Chapter 23 – Vivian
“ A s you can see here, the conditions required have been met,” I said, sliding the paper across the banker’s desk. “I am of age and newly married. Therefore, I am entitled to receive the designated portion from the trust my late father set up.”
“Felicitations, Miss Vivian.” Christine blinked at me through her chic, octagon glasses. Her dark skin was dewy and fresh, despite the stale air of the skyscraper office. “I’ll begin the paperwork, but I don’t see why you shouldn’t have immediate access to the monthly dividends by this afternoon.”
The tightness between my shoulders eased. This encounter had been surprisingly easy. Rising from my chair, I shook hands with the banker.
Christine’s hand lingered in mine. Her lips drew in a thin line. “You know I’m a straight shooter, Vivian. I don’t enjoy drama.”
“Which is one of the reasons we got along so well as undergrads,” I smiled.
Her lips twitched, but then the corners pulled down. “My senior manager told me a few months ago that you’d been sent away for your…health.”
Christine released my hand and tapped the side of her head.
Anger sparked in my chest, but I forced it to lay low. While I was a huge advocate for mental health, seeing firsthand what depression could do to someone once vibrant like my mother, I didn’t like the insinuation that I’d been squirreled away, unable to be seen, because of a medical condition.
“I’m all well and good. I spent some time down on the coast,” I explained, not wanting to give the whole truth, but also not wanting to lie.
The cloud on her face cleared and her brows relaxed. “That explains your tan. You’re practically glowing,” she beamed, giving me a playful tweak on my borrowed blouse.
Laurel was a few sizes bigger than me, but with some tweaks, it worked. Now that I had money to my name, I could do some much-needed shopping.
Christine ushered me from her office but stopped short in the hall. Her eyes widened as she took in the man relaxing on the chair. From the combat boots, jeans, and white tee, Luka looked every bit the bad boy. He rose, snagging his leather jacket and tossing it over his shoulder.
Something very close to pride flickered through me. There was no point being jealous, since this marriage was a sham. But it felt good to have another woman appreciate what I supposedly had.
What if it was real? What if Luka was mine? I let the idea roll around in my mind, indulging in it for just one moment. Despite the myriad of reasons not to, the concept held merit.
Where would I even begin going about making him see me as more than someone he rescued? Mulling over that, and still wondering if it was what I really wanted, I followed Luka into the elevator.
As the cart descended the dozens of floors, I felt the weight of his gaze playing over me. “Something on your mind?”
“I was just thinking that my wife needs a ring.”
It was the slight jerking stop of the elevator that had me unsettled from the wall. “If you think it’s necessary for the pretense, I’ll chip in for it. How much were you thinking?”
Luka shook his head. He pressed the close-door button as he prowled over. “That’s not how it works, darlin.”
My pulse quickened. “This isn’t the 50’s, I can buy my own ring.”
The predator stopped inches in front of me, braced his arm above my head, and looked down. “Are you insinuating that I’m incapable of producing a ring for my own bride?”
“I’m just saying this marriage is some tangled business deal. One that isn’t even twenty-four hours old, nor has defined parameters,” I breathed, trying to make my voice seem less breathy.
“Does it need them?” Luka smirked. “I kind of like the idea of letting this unfold as we go.”
He still wasn’t touching me. I hated that I wanted to close the distance.
“And what happens when we no longer need the ruse that we’re married?” I cocked my head to the side, studying those impossibly frigid depths. “Will we just walk away from this?”
“If that’s what you want,” he said cautiously.
It was what I should want. “Don’t go catching feelings on me now, mister,” I warned to avoid dealing with my own rapidly beating pulse.
This time, his smile didn’t quite meet his eyes. “What if I make it worth your while to stay?”
“You’d have to be very convincing.” I couldn’t believe I’d just said that.
The elevator door saved me from having to follow up with that insinuation. I scurried around the force of nature, desperately needing to leave the confined space. Being alone with him was dangerous.
“Come on, I need to run to the mall, and then I’ll buy us an early supper if you help me carry my bags,” I quipped.
Luka bounded after me. He held open the door, and we stepped into the warm fall sunlight. “Whatcha buyin’ me?”
I pursed my lips. “Who said any of it was for you?”
Luka’s gaze shot over my head; his mouth closed.
“Vi-Vi! You are back,” a raspy baritone called out. The voice made my heart stop.
I turned. Oh, shit. Oh, shit! What was he doing here? The sunlight was suddenly too bright. The noise from the downtown street grated on my ears. Air wouldn’t draw properly into my lungs.
Markem wasn’t a big man, only two inches taller than my 5’7”. But his presence turned me from a fierce, determined individual to a scared little orphan. When a nasty soul preys on an innocent, they exact total control over their victim. It took years to get out from under that. And yet, in his sudden presence, the conditioned responses came rushing to the forefront.
In a flash of shadow, something stepped into my path to intercept my living, breathing nightmare. “Can I help you, my good sir? I hear the pub at the end of the street has excellent beer. Here’s a twenty—have one on me.”
Markem stopped short, sizing Luka up.
I wanted to scream at myself for trembling. But I couldn’t seem to move out from behind the lethal mass that was my husband.
My husband. A shuddering breath filled my lungs. Markem couldn’t touch me. I had access to my trust, and Luka was more than capable of protecting me. I took another steadying inhale before stepping beside Luka.
“Hi, Mr. Regis, funny meeting you here.” I forced my voice not to shake.
“Vivian, what’s the meaning of this?” Markem took a step closer. “I’ve been worried sick about you!”
“And that’s why you had me kidnapped?” I spat, a sudden spike of anger making the words come out of their own accord.
“Vi-Vi, come with me. We’ll sort this out.” Markem held out his hand.
Although he’d washed, he couldn’t hide the bloodstain on the palm. It was there, and I could never unsee it. My father’s oldest friend. He’d always been around, that hand always held out to help me when I fell or when I was sad. But it had only been recently that I saw it for what it was: The grasping claw that took everything from me.
“You haven’t been my guardian for years. I don’t need anything from you,” I clipped out. My lungs still struggled to draw in a proper breath. I need to get out of here! “Now if you’ll excuse us, my friend and I have to go shopping.”
Luka cut me a small look but didn’t question the title.
We passed the stammering lawyer on the sidewalk and hurried to cross the already dwindling timed crosswalk.
“So that’s your fiancé,” Luka breathed.
“You didn’t meet him? Before?” I gasped, barely able to form the words. My heart raced, and spots dotted my vision.
Luka shook his head. “Dimi and Kaz took the meeting. They filled me in on the necessary details and sent me on my way.”
Something on the sidewalk caused me to trip. I pitched forward, blindly grasping. My fingers made contact with a band of iron—impossibly warm for a piece of metal. I clung to it.
Another wrapped around me, pulling me close.
A shuddering breath trickled into my lungs.
“That’s it, baby. Just breathe.” Luka tucked me into his side, murmuring something in Russian. Lulled by the cadence, I let him walk me to a café, where he sat me down at a table in the corner.
The rich, aromatic scent of freshly brewed coffee enveloped me, mingling with the sweet, warm fragrance of baked goods. The dim, golden light from antique lamps cast a gentle glow over the room, highlighting the rustic wooden tables and the plush, mismatched chairs that invited patrons to sink into them. The quiet murmur of conversations blended with the soft hum of indie music playing in the background, creating a soothing ambiance that made the shop feel like a haven from the bustling world outside.
Slowly, my panic ebbed away.
The warmth from the pleasant space wasn’t the reason strange feelings like comfort and security wrapped around me. It was the laughing man, waiting at the end of the bar for the drink order. When his gaze cut to mine, there was no mirth in those chilling blue depths. I didn’t dare to decipher the promise I read there.
Dodging the hurrying business professionals in suits, Luka brought a piping hot, oversized mug that was full of hazelnut, vanilla, and topped with whipped cream and chocolate. His lithe, feline movement distracted me. An entirely different kind of heat bloomed as I watched him. Jeeze…. He was devilishly handsome.
“I saw how you felt about Chiara’s witch’s brew,” he teased, swiping at the whipped cream and pushing the finger into his mouth.
Hands wrapped around the cup, I let the heat seep into me. “I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot with your step-mom.”
“Secret’s safe with me, darlin.” Luka slid his pinched fingers across his lips, turned the lock, and threw away the key.
I rolled my eyes and took a tentative sip of the still too hot drink. Pain screamed across my tongue, but it helped chase away the lingering wisps of dread. As I lowered the mug, Luka took a second swipe at the whipped cream. Driven by impulse, I darted forward and captured his finger between my lips.
Heat flashed in his eyes. I felt its touch deep in my core. I sucked the sweetness off, scoring the finger with my teeth as I released it.
“Thank you, Luka. Thank you for rescuing me.”
He shook his head slightly, voice turning deep and husky. “I was the driver, babe. You rescued yourself.”
“How do you figure that?” I tipped my head to the side.
“Simple.” Luka leaned forward. “You fought until a different outcome presented itself. Don’t ever stop fighting for what you want, Vivian.”