17. Vian
VIAN
This morning started great and then turned to shit.
I barely slept, contemplating her and simply enjoying the feel of her body pressed against mine, so pumped for morning to come so I could finally have her.
Hoping the first sunrays wouldn’t stomp down her desire.
Ecstasy blends with terror, tearing me apart.
Her mind remembers, and I will lose her if she puzzles the pieces together.
I am on borrowed time—too weak not to live a little before the nightmare descends.
I don’t want us to end.
I don’t want the dream to be over.
Then my phone rang, and I slipped out of the bedroom so I wouldn’t disturb her sleep. My uncle needed to talk to me, and from his serious tone, I expected it to be life or death.
It was. He’s dying.
The only person I needed was her, but she wasn’t home, so I tracked her to this bakery in Midtown by the river.
As I glance at my cousin, who looks genuinely happy for me, guilt churns in my stomach.
My uncle asked me not to divulge his rapidly declining health yet to Noemi.
He wants his last months to be about celebrating life, not his illness.
A deep sigh rocks my chest. I will lose another father figure, the man I trust with my life.
No one could replace him, the loss already cementing itself into my being.
Zara stabs me with an angry look, not hiding that she’s mad, which means she wanted the morning to go differently. Fuck, I coveted that more than anything else.
She’s here in my city, with my cousin, and she didn’t return home. I take it as a sign.
I drag a hand down my face, fucking exhausted. I love her. I want her. I need her so much I am barely holding myself together.
Whatever she sees on my face, the fight leaves her.
“Let’s go home.”
She offers a small nod and hugs my cousin, who mouths at me, “What happened?”
“Not now.”
After opening the passenger door for Zara, I slip behind the wheel and spot the lingerie logo on the shopping bag.
“Want to drive me wild? No need, baby. I’m beyond mad for you.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and looks ahead. “I did it for myself.”
“Sure. If you say so, wife.”
We spend the rest of the drive in thick silence while an invisible alarm hangs suspended over our heads. Once the countdown ends, the repercussions will explode in our faces.
Parking in the underground garage, I grip the wheel tight enough to pop my knuckles, staring into space. I’ve given a fortune to research and will give more, yet it’s like this fucking sickness won’t be eradicated.
She palms my arm, saying softly, “What is it?”
I seek her eyes so she can see how earnest I am. “I crave you more than I crave my next breath. Nothing in this world would have dragged me out of our bed...” I exhale a long breath choked with despair.
“So, something bad must have happened,” she says tentatively.
A deep groan ripples in my throat. “My uncle is dying,” I say, a shiver running down my spine and freezing my blood.
“Oh, Vian.”
She unbuckles herself, making room in the small space to climb into my lap. It’s a tight fit in the sports car, but she’s not deterred. She places her palms on my chest, and I breathe her in. In this instant, she’s my tether to sanity, and I hold on with a death grip.
She strokes my jaw, eyeing me with so much warmth it brings me to my knees, and everything flows out of me. “I can’t win against this fucking sickness. My mom, my uncle. So many people every day.”
“But you’re trying, Vian. That’s all we can do. Never give up.”
“Noemi can’t find out. It’s his last wish, so please don’t tell her.”
A line digs between her brows, revealing she doesn’t like that. “It’s her right to know.”
I close my eyes for a moment. “I know. But that man is stubborn.”
“Hmm, must run in the family.”
I chuckle, feeling more at ease. Her presence is the panacea for all my ailments.
She looks down, avoiding my gaze. “Now I feel bad.”
“Want to make it up to me?” I ask, only half joking.
She lifts an earnest brow at me, making me smile even wider. “You bought lingerie to torment me with.”
“Fine.”
I don’t know if it’s meant to distract me or help me process the impending loss, but she adds, “There are these see-through, leaving-nothing-to-the-imagination pieces. I was hell-bent on coming home, wearing one, and waiting for you only to leave you high and dry.”
“So cruel.”
“Effective.”
I cup the back of her head, brushing my nose against hers. “You make everything better, Zara. Thank you for finding your way back to me.”
She narrows her eyes at me, and I realize my slip. The lump in my throat threatens to choke me.
“I’m not her, Vian.”
“No, you’re not.” It’s not a lie. Her essence is the same, but she has changed, and so have I, yet our connection survived intact. Nothing could break our bond. Some connections run deeper, surpass time, and defy distance.
I am burning to reveal it’s her and that I’ve always been solely hers.
Her expression softens. “You’re hurting.”
“I’ve been hurting for a long time. So don’t fucking leave me.”
I slam my mouth onto hers, wanting to be close to paradise and as far away from the reminder of hell as possible. I am a man rising from the ashes to love her.
I don’t use her to distract myself from my troubles. I simply need her.
Need her like she’s a breath of fresh air, filling my lungs.
Need her like she’s life’s gift after enduring thousands of years of death.
She kisses me back with the same ardor. Her subconscious knows she’s mine, she just hasn’t caught up. Yet.
In the penthouse, she drags me toward the kitchen and pushes me onto a barstool at the marble island. She opens the fridge and takes out the dinner Chef prepared.
As she heats the meal, it feels like domestic bliss. I imagine coming home every night to my wife, our children running around. A dream I will do my best to fulfill or die trying. There is no in-between.
As she plates the food, I open a bottle of wine and pour two glasses.
“Who will take his place?” she asks, her brain switching to business mode.
I take it as a sign that she cares, aware of how volatile alliances are. That’s one reason she married me—to add more protection in case one fails.
“I don’t trust anyone else.”
She nods and takes a few forkfuls of food, seeming in deep thought. “What if I take his place?”
“As the underboss?” I ask, not quite understanding where she’s heading.
“I want to be the first woman to achieve that. As your wife, I would have your back, keep everyone in check, and it would be good for my business.” She drawls as if the implications aren’t life-changing. “You want someone who is family, Vian. Someone you can trust. I am that.”
I blink at her, shocked to my bones.
She misinterprets my reaction as refusal. “I thought you’d be happier. Forget it.”
Hurt flashes in her eyes, and as elation overrules the initial shock, I rush to add, “Fuck, Zara, I’d be honored. Are you sure?”
Brows knotting, she stares at her plate. “I don’t know what came over me.”
Love came over her, needing to have my back. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say I fucking love her and that she never ceases to surprise me.
“You want us to be a power couple.” I smirk. “Admit it.”
“Enzo and Calla make it work, don’t they?”
She changed indeed, but maybe it’s her wanting control over her life. Once you taste power, you hold on to it. I can’t fault her for that.
She waves me off, taking another small bite. “There is no hurry. It’s way too soon. I just wanted to present you with another option. You love your uncle, and I am not seeking to replace him, but to be there for you. Someone you can trust just as much.”
In another life, this would have been the best thing to happen to me—ruling the world with my wife by my side. But the chapters of our lives are still being written, and I am terrified the plot twist will upend everything, erasing our fragile foundation.
“We’re married,” I say, lost in melancholy.
She narrows her eyes, giving me a funny look. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything,” I rasp, finding her hand on the table and intertwining our fingers.
I’ll give her all the power. She wants to be the underboss, done.
She wants to rule this city, she can. I won’t even stop her when she inevitably kills me for my deception.
But fuck if she won’t be carrying my child by then.
The truth can come out, but not sooner. Even if she hates me, she will love a part of me.
“There’s an initiation,” I say as I caress the inside of her hand. “Blood in. Blood out. You live and serve the cause. There’s no way out. Traitors die.”
She gives my hand a little squeeze. “I have no intention of betraying you, but I doubt you could kill me regardless, husband.”
“True.”
“I won’t either.”
A sigh heaves my chest. “You say that now.”
“Don’t give me a reason. We both know each other’s hard limit. So, are you intending to cheat on me?”
“Never,” I say with thundering resolution.
“Good.”
I arch a brow, waiting for her to say the same when she offers me a coy look. It’s so fake it makes me want to laugh.
Finished eating, she pats the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “Well, husband, I have needs.”
I jump up, the chair tumbling down, crashing like my reservations. It’s a fucking wonder I resisted this long.
“Needs you say?” I ask, stalking to her.
Her eyes glaze over, the desire making her pupils pop. She takes a few steps back until she reaches the wall. I brace my palms on each side of her face, trapping her between two hard surfaces.
She swallows before whispering, “I want you. Badly, but I understand why you wanted to wait for me to sleep off my tipsiness... you’re hurting, so maybe we should––”
“Do you think there could be anything on my mind but you? You occupy the most space, the most thoughts, running circles through it. It plays your name on an endless tune.” A statement masked as a fact. “You want me to fuck you. Admit it.”
“What if I said no?”