Chapter 9 Viviana
VIVIANA
Between classes and texting with Tristan, the week has flown by while I am fully enveloped in the delusion bubble. I ignore reality with such proficiency that my lack of self-preservation edges on worrisome.
“You look way too happy about going home for the weekend,” Evie says, popping her head out from her notebooks spread on her bed.
A shot of guilt strikes through me, but I ignore that as well. I am terrified that if I tell anyone, including her, the bubble will pop, leaving me desolate.
I just wish this, whatever this marvelous thing is, to continue—unwilling to relinquish Tristan. I am not ready to return to a place where nothing blossoms, and everything is doomed to wither. No dreams, no passion, no life—done with existing in the desert of my life.
“I’m excited to see my niece,” I say, feeling like the shittiest friend for lying.
Someday I will confess and apologize, but today is not that day. I just hope I don’t lose her friendship, and she will understand. If someone can, it’s her. But I still feel bad.
“Kiss the cutie for me.”
Evie adores kids. That was why she decided to become a preschool teacher.
I miss Celia and my sister. But now that I have something just for myself, I rejoice in the forbidden, in all things Tristan related.
He has rooted himself so deeply inside my brain and heart that I doubt I could wrench him out, even if I wanted to.
I’m here, mo run.
His text instantly puts a smile on my face. I love that term of endearment. It makes me feel closer to him.
Standing up, I go to embrace my friend, hugging her longer. “Will you be okay?”
“I’ll catch up on some classwork.” She waves me off, making me feel a little better about leaving.
On the way out, the thought that I can’t leave every weekend consumes me. It would raise suspicion. Worse, I didn’t even ask Dario about another favor. I am afraid he will ask questions. Questions I can’t answer.
At the emergency exit, I glance around for the guards, but I detect no one.
I don’t need a reminder that Tristan and I can never happen, even though someone decided we should meet.
Looking up, I catch the clouds darkening, the wind blowing furiously, chilling me.
The impending storm announces nothing short of stripping the trees of the last foliage, leaving the landscape bereft.
Just like me, left at someone else’s mercy.
I hope it’s worth seeing me go from ecstasy to crashing straight to the bottom of agony, where I’ll splatter in a pool of shattered dreams.
The thought pours a thunderstorm over my head, drenching my brain in gloom, but that is swiftly cast aside when I notice him waiting for me.
The corner of his mouth arches up in a smile that eclipses my thoughts. This man is beyond handsome—he captivates my senses like no one else.
Emerging from the trance, he hurries out of his car and removes the small suitcase from my grasp. His lush brown eyes spark as they focus on my face.
“Missed me?” I ask, the assuredness taking me by surprise. But with him, it’s different. I don’t have to censor myself.
“I did.”
He cups the back of my neck and drags me to his chest, holding me tight. In his orbit, common sense vanishes. Anyone could walk by. I’m losing my mind so proficiently that I forget about the danger.
Breathing me in, he lowers his head and kisses me unhurriedly, passionate enough my toes curl.
Starved for more, I lift on my toes and lock my arms around his neck just to feel him closer.
Together, my world is all right. No one can break us apart, and I fall deeper into the Tristan dream where everything is possible.
When the kiss ends, I am breathless. Brainless. He has an unwavering ability to fling my thoughts in a hundred directions at once. Chasing them would be futile.
He’s making it impossible for this thing to be casual. I don’t think there’s anything casual about him. One thing I’ve learned this week is that Tristan knows exactly what he wants. And he wants me.
My heart constricts, not knowing how to tell him the truth.
I am not just some woman he can build a future with.
My future is not mine. Even if I confess the truth, he’d either want nothing to do with me, or he would talk to my family, which would be terrible.
In my family, marriages happen behind closed doors.
There is no love involved, but securing alliances with other powerful Mafia families.
Even if he’s a successful real estate mogul, the boss of our family is also a part of the Syndicate. The four men have money and power that he can’t match.
I could talk to my sister, but I don’t wish to burden her.
I could run away, but disappointing my family feels wrong.
All I’ve done besides studying and going to classes is search for a solution, but none exists.
“What is it, baby?” he asks once we’re in the car.
Being inside his car, surrounded by his heady scent and close to him, eases my troubled mind. I itch to urge him to keep driving until we reach a place no one could find us, where we could build a life together.
Strange. I never believed in that instant connection with someone.
It sounded absurd. How can someone you’ve barely met become a person who’s vital to your existence?
I’ve heard of instalove and instalust, but I dismissed them as fantasy.
But our encounter clicked something incomplete into place—halves reuniting, forming a perfect union.
“Thinking,” I say, doodling on the window.
“Dangerous.”
I giggle and turn to him.
Content with having my attention, he palms my face and brushes his thumb along my cheek. The dominant yet gentle gesture eases me.
Something dark flashes in his eyes. “Someone bothering you?”
“No one even dares approach me.”
In my first year, some of the boys tried, but it never progressed to a date. The hypocrisy in our world is so blatant that I can understand my sister’s rebellion. I guess I am no better.
“Good.”
I slap his arm playfully. “Not good. Unfair.”
“All I know is that it brought you to me,” he says, sounding unapologetic.
Isn’t that the truth? For someone who has been monitored her entire life, the moment I slipped undetected, I landed straight in a man’s bed.
I burst into laughter. “No regrets.”
He kisses me once again as if he can’t help himself, stealing the breath from my lungs and claiming more of my heart.
“I like that,” I whisper.
He glances at me, and I know I must be clearer in my speech. His brain functions just a tad differently and that’s okay. “You kissing me.”
“Never felt the need before,” he says, brows furrowing.
“Wait, what?” I gasp in utter disbelief.
He shrugs as if it’s not a big deal. “I don’t like human touch, but I liked the release after sex, so that’s why I entertained it. There’s no need for kissing.”
It means so much to me that I am the one woman he can’t resist touching and kissing. Tears well in my eyes, overwhelmed by sheer emotion.
“Was I your first kiss?”
He stares at me with an intense look. “I was your first. Will be your last. I know who the true winner is here.”
I wish he were. I wish that my first love would be my last. But in what life would that be possible? Surely not in this one. Surely not for me.
Not wanting that thought to dampen our time together, I say, “Pretty sure of yourself, Tristan.”
“Oh, Viviana, you’ll see.” Determination coats every letter.
I sigh, not knowing what to think of his words. I feel his, claimed, chosen. The blatant possessive display should scare me. Instead, it blazes a fire through my insides, making me burn for him.
Needing more than eye contact, I move for his hand but stop. He catches my reservation, a contrite expression narrowing his gaze.
“Can I touch you?”
He shakes his head, groaning, “Never ask that again, mo run. You can touch me. You’re the exception in my life.”
If that wasn’t romantic, I don’t know what is.
I reach for his hand on the center console and link our fingers together—eager to soak in every touch, every moment we spend together. There’s a clock suspended above my head, and once it strikes, it will shift into a scythe.
As I glance up at him, he makes it worth the fall.
“How was your week? Could you sleep a bit more?” I worried about him. When I am not there, I can’t take care of him.
“Too fucking long. And no.” He puffs out a sigh of frustration.
“Couldn’t sleep without me?” I ask, wanting to bring some levity to our talk.
There’s something more going on with him, but I avoid pushing him too much, too soon.
He wiggles his brows. “Yes, so I should move you in with me to have my emotional support human with me.”
I slap his chest, going for a chastising tone but failing. “Hey.”
The atmosphere shifts, the air around us becoming headier as if bolts of heat shoot at us from all directions, burning patience to a crisp and leaving only carnal need in its wake.
I lick my lips. “Would that be all?”
“You in my bed? We’ll only sleep when you can’t take me anymore. Because I will never have enough,” he groans, betraying his lust just as much.
This man is so very dangerous to my heart and sanity. But tame compared to the desire threatening to ravage us, turning us into wanton creatures with a sole purpose—to mate.
“Let me take this slowly, please. I want you, Viviana. I’ve wanted you since the moment I met you, that I forgot my own damn mind and had to make you mine. You were the only unplanned thing in my life.”
His plea resonates with something deep within me. “You don’t have to follow a plan with me.”
But I also know his brain functions like that—needing a clean structure.
It’s cute that he thinks he owes me dates and time to get to know each other better. Not that I mind, but he gives me the impression he has already made up his mind.
A muscle in his jaw tics. “I have to.”
He lifts my hand to his, placing a gentle kiss on the inside.