34. Caden
Caden
“This place is cute,” Vivienne said, her lie revealed by the wrinkle in her nose. “What happened to the Ivory?”
“They fucked up our table.”
Vivienne pursed her lips. They were painted a deep purple that made her skin seem almost ghostly.
“Well, I guess this place will do,” she finally relented, tugging off her coat to hand it to our waiter before ordering a bottle of the most expensive wine on the menu.
“So, where did you hear about this place?”
“My cousin.”
She nodded, waiting for me to continue. I didn’t.
“Well, as long as you don’t choose seafood. I’m highly allergic.”
I nodded along, pretending like I gave a shit about a possible rash or trouble breathing.
Vivienne was beautiful, I couldn’t deny that. But that beauty seemed forced. Artificial, even. Every smile was calculated, like she practised in front of a mirror. She was soulless, a carbon copy of whatever the latest beauty trend was.
Nothing like Aeris, who was a storm caught in human skin.
I forced a smile, already bored of the performance in front of me.
“Shall we order?” I asked, letting my gaze drift over Vivienne’s shoulder.
There was a reason I’d changed the restaurant at the last minute, and that reason sat over at the bar flirting with an older, sweaty man with an impressive gut.
Anger swirled, hot and violent. I barely refrained from storming across the room, throwing Aeris over my shoulder, and leaving.
Even after a week, I was still pissed at Langdon for letting her leave that night. The only reason I hadn’t smashed his face in the ring was because he’d been the one to install the tracker on her phone, not to mention the cameras I now watched religiously every single night.
Aeris had become my new favourite show.
The real, unguarded moments she thought no one could see. The soft, secret smile she gave her glittery trinkets. The way she lit up when she video-called her nephews. The quiet laughter she shared with her sisters.
And especially the way she touched herself in the dark. Her knees bent, fingers dipping between her folds as she brought herself to an orgasm.
Even when she wasn’t trying, she was a fucking seductress.
“And for you, sir?”
It took me a second to register that the waiter was speaking to me.
“Whatever she’s having,” I said dismissively. I was only here because her mother was trying to sink her fangs into our empire. Vivienne was nothing more than a polished pawn in that game, one I planned to destroy as soon as I got what I needed.
“So, tell me about yourself,” Vivienne purred, crossing her long legs beneath the table. Her foot slid deliberately up my calf, stroking slowly, and I had to palm the sea glass in my pocket to not react with violence. “Your father didn’t tell me nearly enough when I asked about you at the mixer.”
“What did he say, exactly?” I asked, letting her flirt. Letting her believe this was going somewhere.
Vivienne wasn’t a date—she was bait.
And I had no intention of taking it.
“That you’re a hard man to tie down.” She flashed the waiter a dazzling smile as he returned with the wine and poured us each a glass. The second he left, her foot resumed its ascent. I crushed the glass harder into my palm.
“He wasn’t wrong.”
“Well …” She licked slowly along the rim of her glass before taking a sip, eyes locked on mine. “Maybe you just haven’t met the right woman yet.”
Jesus-fucking-Christ.
I forced a polite half-smile, like I wasn’t currently envisioning all the ways I could break her bones. “What about you?”
Her eyes widened with exaggerated delight, fake lashes fluttering. “Me?”
“You already know plenty about me,” I said flatly. “Seems only fair I know something about you.”
That was all the invitation she needed, apparently.
Vivienne launched into a monologue about herself, something about designers, skincare, and how terribly difficult it was to be this beautiful. I offered the occasional nod, low hum, and monosyllabic reply.
All the while, her foot kept teasing higher up my leg, her cleavage on full display as she leaned forward, her laughter so loud it drew stares from nearby tables.
But there was only one pair of eyes I wanted on me.
Across the room, Aeris had been seated. Her client—date, fucking target—sat with his back to me, so I had the perfect view of her expression.
She might have worn a smile, but there was no excitement in her eyes. No spark or fire. Nothing like when I made her get on her knees. Or when I made her crawl.
“What about you?” Vivienne asked, dragging my attention back. “Is it just your dad? I didn’t see a ring on his finger.”
I took a slow sip of wine. “Why? You prefer your men older?”
She giggled like a schoolgirl, the sound grating. “Of course not. Although … maybe I could set him up with my mum.”
That actually pulled my focus. “What’s your mum like?” I asked, setting the glass down.
Vivienne let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling her eyes dramatically.
“She’s … a lot. Beautiful, obviously. Extremely ambitious, even a little terrifying if you cross her.
” She leaned in closer, lowering her voice like she was sharing a secret.
“But my favourite part is she always gets what she wants, which means I always get what I want.”
I smiled, cold and sharp.
What a coincidence, I thought.
So do I.
And right now, what I wanted was sitting across the room on a fucking date.
Except, when I glanced back, Aeris was standing, every drop of colour drained from her face.
A tall, older man with dark hair threaded with silver stood far too close, his shoulders tense.
I could only see his back, but the way his fingers dug into her arm made something dark uncoil in my chest, the darkness turning violent when he dragged her forcibly out of the room.
I stood, the table jerking from the sudden movement.
“Caden?” Vivienne caught her glass before it could fall. “Are you okay?”
“Excuse me, I’ll be right back.”