Chapter 23 Viviana
VIVIANA
Iam married. To him.
Everything that has transpired today has been a rollercoaster of emotions, making me dizzy on my feet.
I am a mess, but again, he’s proficient at turning me into one, split between wishing this day to be over and going on forever. Afterward, we’ll start our life together. We’ll live together.
From experience, staying strong is hard. He has his ways, an uncanny ability to slip through my cracks.
I thought my wedding day would turn into a massacre with the whole Celia–Aris incident, but thankfully only a few witnessed the sweet moment.
I can’t believe Tristan doesn’t want children when he so naturally picked up Aris and instinctively knew when to place him down when he’d had enough.
That entire exchange twisted my heart, aching with unbearable longing for something I won’t experience.
It doesn’t matter how many walls I erect around myself. This man has touched every part of me, bearing an indelible mark.
Our eyes lock, and I swallow, overcome by potent emotions. I used to see my dreams unfolding in his gaze. Now I see my future in his. Only death could separate us. I should only feel dread and hate, but there’s also relief, buried under layers of hurt.
He stretches out his arm, offering me his hand.
I feel eyes on us, just as throughout the day, eager to pick apart every moment and analyze our every gesture.
Pretending exhausts me, and it takes everything in me not to shout stop.
“I’ve got you,” he says behind a smile full of understanding.
I nod and slip mine into his, our wedding bands clank together, echoing with the reminder that he is mine just as much.
Sadly, it’s based on deception. On lies.
It’s not real. Nothing is.
I don’t think he’s incapable of feelings. He simply thinks more. Feels less.
On the dance floor, he swings me around. Surrounded by his heady scent and his powerful arms, everything else stills, making me feel less exposed. It’s familiar. Intimate.
I barely hold on to the tears that threaten to betray my frayed state.
“I hate you. I hate you so much,” I whisper, my voice breaking.
“Hate me then, mo run. If that helps,” he says, sounding dejected.
Nothing ever helps.
“Have I told you how beautiful you look today?”
I sigh, glaring at him. “Just a few times. I don’t know what you’re trying to achieve.”
His eyes shine with unadulterated awe. “Nothing. Just stating facts.”
With every verse of the love song, he spins a sinuous web around me, forgetting what he did. Luckily for my well-being, not for long.
Other couples join us on the dance floor, and when the song ends, I excuse myself, needing a moment.
I lock the bathroom door behind me and lean back, inhaling and exhaling in a soothing rhythm, hoping to get a grip on my frail composure.
There’s a knock on my door, causing a sigh to escape my mouth. Not even five damn minutes can I be on my own.
I open it with fake cheer, only to find a beautiful pregnant woman.
“Sorry, my bladder is killing me,” she says apologetically.
“No problem.” I retreat to make room for her, noticing a man a few feet away, staring at the guards in silent warning, posted in front of the door like sentinels.
“Do you need help?” I ask and close the door, following her inside.
“Thank you. I’m fine, just counting the days. My daughter is taking her time. My son was the opposite.”
A genuine smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, and she says, “I’m Dahlia.”
“Viviana. Nice to meet you.”
Waiting for her to finish in the stall, I grip the sink to collect myself, enjoying some peace, the few more moments on my own.
When she comes out, I plaster a smile on my face, but a second too late, and she notices my slip.
Keep your shit together, Viviana.
She offers me a soft smile. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s daunting. No one truly understands what goes on in Tristan’s head.”
Dahlia speaks of him with a fondness that intrigues me.
She must notice my silent plea because she continues, “We’ve known each other since childhood.
He’s fiercely protective, caring, and good behind that cold exterior.
Sadly, he constantly hides that side. Or who knows?
” She sighs, “After all these years, maybe his demons won, but then he wouldn’t have married you. ”
“It’s a business transaction.”
She approaches the sink, but her eyes never waver from mine.
A soft peal of laughter rolls out of her mouth. “I don’t believe that. He’d start a war if it would benefit him. His whole trying to ‘keep the peace’ is far-fetched.”
She rubs her belly, and I stare entranced. That will never be me.
“He doesn’t want kids,” I blurt out.
She waves a hand through the air. “He thinks he doesn’t, mostly because his father was a monster.”
I nod, aware of that.
She sighs. “He broke something inside him. I hope he’ll heal and realize that even if we come from monsters, we don’t have to turn into them.” Then she beams. “He played Cupid for my husband and me.”
My eyes widen, taken aback by that piece of information, and she adds, “He’s something else. Tristan never wanted to marry. Don’t get me started on feelings. But the look in his eyes when he glances at you, thinking no one is looking, says differently.”
Overwhelmed by her sweet presence and her genuinely wanting to help me, even though her side and my side should be enemies, I hug her.
She pats my back when Calla bursts through the door. “You know how that husband of yours is.”
Dahlia smiles, looking smitten. “You mean your brother?”
Calla rolls her eyes. “Good god. You’ve been pregnant before. How did his state worsen rather than improve?”
She reapplies her lipstick and watches me. “Hiding?”
“Calla,” Dahlia chastises.
I get who’s the more sensitive one in their sisterhood. It reminds me of my relationship with my sister.
She shakes her head at me. “I swear I don’t know what Tristan was thinking…”
I glare at her. “You shot my brother-in-law.”
“Your sister shot me.” She shrugs and pins me with an intense glare. “Tristan is my son’s godfather. My only child.”
There’s a clear threat wrapped in a plea for understanding.
“I would never,” I assure her.
I can’t even bring myself to say that awful thing.
“Good. You don’t have to like me. We don’t have to be friends. But I will ask you to be civil when we are together.”
Quite arrogant, but this woman carries an invisible cloak of lethality. No wonder the Underworld fears and reveres her.
Reality crashes onto me. All the implications. My loyalty will be tested.
As if she senses where my thoughts head, Calla adds, “There are two types of families. One we are born into. One we make. Don’t let the first guilt trip you.”
With that, she redirects her focus, and her voice softens when she places her palm on Dahlia’s belly. “How’s my little diva? I can’t wait to spoil her rotten.”
“Calla,” Dahlia whines, but smiles as the little one kicks.
In this moment, she’s not the feared assassin, just a future aunt.
They slip out, but not before Calla says, “You’re Viviana Kinkaid now. Pretense alone will not suffice. It’s you against the world. And in ours, only those who keep together grow stronger.”
I can’t hide here anymore, so I walk out with them.
Dahlia’s husband puts a protective arm around her waist, and Enzo takes Calla’s side, kissing her in front of everyone. Not caring about showing his feelings.
“Are you okay?” My sister reaches me, glaring their way with sheer loathing, and shrieks. “Were you alone with them in the bathroom?”
Not that I don’t cherish my sister’s protective nature toward me, but I don’t think Dahlia could hurt anyone, and no one could stop Calla from doing it if she wanted to.
“We just chatted.”
“I can’t believe she went on to live her best life. No punishment,” my sister grumbles, voice dripping with hatred.
“You don’t know her story, Chiara.”
There’s a bit of hurt flashing in her eyes. “True, but it’s insulting how they behave.”
“Like they’re happy? In love?”
She purses her lips. “Yeah, for how long?”
“I just hope both sides will get over it,” I say wistfully.
I said the wrong thing, considering she stares at her with a frosty glare. “Never.”
Stubborn.
I can’t shake the nagging feeling that my being put in the middle will be a constant.
My sister joins her found family while I remain alone in the middle of a crowd, feeling lost, drowning. No one is there to hear my cries for help, to reach out and drag me from the bottom of misery.
My chest heaves, the panic rising, causing everything around me to spin. Everyone glances at me without peering through the mask. That I am freaking out. That I am shouting on the inside.
Tristan strides to me from across the room, discarding Vian and Rafe, and he leads me outside onto the terrace.
I inhale a deep breath, the fresh air instantly soothing my burning lungs, and my attention shifts to my surroundings.
The terrace looks spectacular, with hundreds of peonies and candles scattered around the garden, the fountains and sculptures adding a touch of fairyland. At the same time, a concrete jungle surrounds me—an oasis in the middle of the city.
“What do you want?” I snap, hating that, of course, he had to be the person to see me losing it and save me. My husband, my enemy, the person who knows me best. I am screwed, but I just won’t admit defeat.
Never again will I reveal my vulnerabilities to him. He can’t be the one to comfort me after he ripped my heart out and stomped all over it, crunching it under his merciless soles.
He slips his hands into his pockets and cocks his head, his intense gaze boring into me. “How long do you plan to punish me?”
The audacity.
I open and close my mouth, deciding to keep silent. Ignoring him, I drop onto the bench, crossing my arms on my chest in a clear sign of protest. He deserves nothing from me, not even words.
“Fine. Then let’s enjoy the silence together.”