Chapter 38
Dom hated meetings. They were right up there with cruel and unusual torture in his mind, and today’s had been the worst, telling Dad and the uncles about Cade’s betrayal.
Uncle Cam had denied it vehemently, unwilling to admit he might be losing yet another son—he’d never recovered from losing Brennan a few years ago.
Hell, none of them had really recovered from that. Dom, himself, still missed his cousin like a limb. Some mornings, he’d wake up and forget Brennan was gone, reaching for his phone to text him about some joke or memory before reality crashed back in.
Uncle Vaughn had tried to soothe his twin, but Vaughn wasn’t really the touchy-feely type and just made things worse.
The meeting devolved fast after that, with half the family accusing Davey of exiling Cade, leaving him no choice but to take the job with Praetorian, and the other half defending Davey’s choice to fire Cade.
What a shitshow.
But at least now Dom was officially off-duty, and his plan was to drink away the bitter taste at the back of his throat and find a willing body to lose himself in for the night.
The club’s bass hammered through his skull like artillery fire, and he couldn’t decide if that was better or worse than the silence waiting for him back at the brownstone.
He knocked back his whiskey—the cheapest stuff the bar had—and signaled the bartender for another.
She was a brunette with impressive cleavage and a flirtatious smile that she unleashed as she slid the fresh glass across the polished surface.
“Rough night?” she asked, leaning forward just enough to make sure he noticed what she was offering.
Dom barely glanced at her. Any other night, he’d have been all over that invitation.
The brunette was exactly his type—curves in all the right places, eyes that promised she knew how to have a good time, and the kind of confidence that came from knowing men wanted her.
But tonight, even the prospect of meaningless sex felt hollow.
“Something like that,” he muttered, downing half the whiskey in one burning gulp.
The alcohol hit his empty stomach like napalm, but the pain was welcome. Better than thinking about the look on Uncle Cam’s face when Davey had explained what happened in Antarctica. Better than remembering the way Cade had stood with those Praetorian bastards, choosing them over his own family.
“That whiskey should be a crime.”
The voice slid over him like silk, and Dom froze, glass halfway to his lips. He knew that sun-warmed sweet-tea voice. Had dreamed about it more times than he cared to admit.
He turned, and there she was.
Vivianna Cavalier.
Time seemed to slow as his eyes tracked over her—flowing blond hair cascading past her shoulders, those piercing green eyes that had always seen right through his bullshit, lips painted the color of sin.
She wore something black and tight that hugged every curve, making his mouth go dry despite the whiskey.
“Vivi,” he managed, the nickname slipping out before he could stop it.
One perfect eyebrow arched. “You don’t get to call me that anymore, Dominic.” She motioned to the male bartender, who appeared instantly—funny how men always materialized when Vivianna wanted something. “Two Blanton’s. Neat.”
Dom watched her hands as she placed cash on the bar. No rings. Not that it mattered. Not that he cared.
“What are you doing here, Vivi?” He drained the rest of his mediocre whiskey, welcoming the burn.
“Same as you, I imagine.” She accepted the drinks from the bartender, sliding one toward him. “Trying to forget.”
Their fingers brushed as he took the glass, and the contact sent a jolt through him that had nothing to do with the whiskey and everything to do with memories he’d tried to bury. Nights tangled in sheets, her taste on his tongue, the way she’d say his name when he was inside her.
Jesus.
Vivianna Cavalier was trouble in a designer dress—the kind of woman who could smile while she slipped a knife between your ribs. Getting involved with her again would be the definition of stupid, and not only because she was his best friend’s little sister.
But his body was already reacting to her closeness, because despite everything—despite the lies, the betrayal, the way she’d completely vanished from his life until a couple months ago—he’d never been able to forget her.
She was the itch he couldn’t scratch, the question that had no answer, the one woman who’d ever made him feel like he was drowning and flying at the same time.
He adjusted himself to hide the fact that just the scent of her made him hard and took a sip of the Blanton’s.
It was smoother than what he’d been drinking, caramel and vanilla with a hint of spice.
“And, do tell, what world-shatteringly awful thing does a fashion designer have to forget? A plaid fedora? A cow print sweatsuit?”
Vivianna’s laugh was low and humorless. “No. I’m trying to forget a traitor who stole designs from my upcoming collection and sold them to a competitor.” She sipped her whiskey, leaving a perfect crimson imprint on the glass. “My entire spring line is compromised.”
Dom knew he should sympathize, but he couldn’t help the bitter laugh that escaped him. “At least your traitor didn’t join a paramilitary organization bent on world domination.”
Her eyes softened slightly. “Sabin told me about Cade.”
Of course, he had. The Cavalier siblings didn’t have secrets.
“For what it’s worth…” She reached out and brushed her fingers over the back of his hand. “I’m sorry. I know it hurts you.”
“I don’t want to talk about Cade.” He turned the glass in his hand, watching the amber liquid catch the pulsing lights.
“Good.” She leaned closer, her perfume wrapping around him—jasmine and something darker that woke all the primal parts of him. “Because I didn’t come over here and buy you a drink to talk about your cousin.”
Heat pooled low in his belly. “So why did you buy me a drink?”
“I saw you from across the room.” Her eyes held his, unflinching. “I could have walked away.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.” Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “I didn’t. You look good, Dom.”
“You look better.” The words came out rough, scraped raw with want.
She laughed, the sound hitting him like a physical touch. “Always the charmer.”
“Only with you.” And it was true. He could charm anyone when he needed to—it was part of the job—but with Vivi, the lines between truth and performance had always blurred.
The DJ switched tracks, and the club’s energy shifted as bodies pressed closer on the dance floor. Dom felt the bass in his chest, matching the thud of his pulse.
“Dance with me,” she said, and it wasn’t a question.
He should say no. Should finish his drink and walk away. Nothing good could come from reopening this wound.
Instead, he stood, took her hand, and let her lead him into the crowd.
The dance floor was a crush of bodies, the heat and sweat and perfume creating a heady mix that went straight to his head.
Or maybe that was just her—the way she moved against him, her back to his chest, hips swaying in perfect time to the music.
His hands found her waist, fingers digging into the soft fabric of her dress.
Two years since he’d last touched her, and his body remembered everything—the way she’d fit against him, the sounds she made when he kissed that spot behind her ear, the way her nails would dig into his shoulders when she came.
“You should walk away,” Dom whispered in her ear, his voice rougher than he intended. “We both know how this ends.”
“Do we?” She tilted her head, giving him access to brush his lips against her pulse. “Because I remember it ending quite well. Multiple times, in fact.”
Heat crawled up his neck. Damn her. Even now, she could get under his skin with just a few words. “Until it didn’t.”
She turned in his arms, eyes locking with his as she wound her arms around his neck. Their bodies pressed together, and he felt the familiar curve of her against him, the way they still fit like they were made for each other.
The music swelled around them, but Dom barely heard it. All he could focus on was her—the heat of her body, the challenge in her eyes, the electricity crackling between them that had never dimmed, not even after years apart.
“What do you want from me, Vivi?”
She rose on her toes, lips brushing his ear. “Tonight.”
Just one word, but it set his blood on fire. One night. No promises, no future, just now. He could give her that. Could take what she was offering.
His hand slid into her hair, tilting her face up to his. “Just tonight?”
Her eyes darkened. “For now.”
That was all it took. His mouth crashed down on hers, years of wanting and regret and need pouring into the kiss. She met him with equal passion, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she pressed against him.
They barely made it to the exit, hands grasping, mouths hungry. The cool night air hit his overheated skin as they stumbled out onto the sidewalk, but it did nothing to cool the fire raging through him.
“Your place or mine?” she gasped as he backed her against the brick wall of the club, his mouth trailing down her neck.
“Car,” he growled. “Now.”
Her laugh was breathless. “Some things never change.”
The walk to his car was a blur, their bodies never fully separating. He fumbled with his keys, swearing as he dropped them twice before finally getting the door open. She slid into the backseat, pulling him after her.
This was such a fucking mistake.
His mouth found hers in the darkness of the backseat, tasting whiskey and desire. The leather creaked beneath them as Vivi pulled him down, her fingers already working at his belt, her touch burning through the denim of his jeans.
“Christ, Vivi,” he groaned as her hand slipped inside his boxers, wrapping around him with that perfect pressure he’d never forgotten.
Her laugh was dark and satisfied against his lips. “I see some things have definitely not changed.”
Dom pushed her dress up, fingers tracing the lace edge of her panties. She was already wet, the fabric soaked through when he pressed against her. The sound she made—half gasp, half moan—shot straight to his cock.
“I’ve missed this,” she whispered, arching as he slid the lace aside and stroked her. “Missed you.”
The world tilted suddenly, his vision blurring at the edges. Dom blinked hard, trying to focus on Vivi’s face as a strange warmth spread through his limbs, heavy and thick like molasses.
Jesus, he hadn’t had that much to drink. Had he? He suddenly couldn’t remember and shook his head to clear it.
“Dom?” She sat up, and her face swam before his eyes. “I don’t feel right.”
“Shit.” Dom tried to push himself upright, but his arms wouldn’t cooperate. His muscles felt disconnected from his brain, responding seconds after he gave the command, if at all.
He fought to stay alert, to make sense of what was happening, but his thoughts scattered like marbles on a tilted floor. Drugged. They’d been drugged. But who? The bartender? Someone else?
Vivi’s head lolled against the leather seat, her eyes fluttering. “Dom,” she whispered, her voice thick with fear. “Can’t move.”
He reached for her face, his hand moving in slow motion, fingertips barely grazing her cheek before falling away. “Stay with me,” he managed, though the words came out garbled.
The car door yanked open, letting in a rush of cold air. Dom tried to turn, to see who was there, but his neck refused to obey. Black spots danced across his vision as rough hands grabbed his shoulders, dragging him backwards.
“Target secured,” a voice said from somewhere far away.
“Vivi,” he tried to say, but no sound came out.
The last thing he saw as the darkness closed in was someone in black pulling her from the car. Her limbs hung loose, her hair cascading toward the pavement like spilled gold.
And then the world went dark.