Reckoning (Vincent and Eve #2)

by Jessica Ruben

“No, we are not.” I turn my head, making sure no one is near us. The last thing I need is to be part of the Vincent gossip mill. “Actually, I have an idea. Go to lunch with your girlfriend of the past few years and be sure to snap a photo with your shirt off while you’re at it. I’m sure your leeeeeegions of fans would looooove to see The Vincent Borignone shirtless. And when you’re done with her, go see your father and maybe shoot someone for not giving you a cut of their profits!”

  He stares at me wide-eyed before bursting out laughing, which only makes me more furious. “Come on, Eve. How can I not laugh? You’re funny.”

  “Funny?” If I were in a cartoon, smoke would be billowing out of my ears right now. I turn my body around, ready to walk away.

  “Hey,” he says, stepping forward so I’m pressed against the wall. “There’s a lot about the situation you don’t know. And yeah, she likes to post shit about us, but it never mattered much to me before. Let’s go out. Let me just explain—”

  “Before? Before what? Before or after you put me in your goddamn bed?” I shouldn’t be speaking to him right now. I watch as resolve comes over his face. I’m about to yell again when he bends down and picks me up, throwing me over his enormous shoulder.

  I want to scream, but I don’t want to draw attention to us as we walk out of the corridor. My hair is dangling down, practically sweeping the floor. And for the first time in my life, I’m relieved that it’s so thick and riotous because it’s covering my face from any potential passerby. He’s carrying me like a caveman and I’m absolutely powerless. If people are staring, I wouldn’t know; my eyes are screwed shut. When I realize he isn’t going to put me down without a fight, I try to pinch his side. Not only is he not ticklish, but he’s a solid wall of muscle without an ounce of fat to grab. My voice is low as I threaten his life, but he completely ignores me. Blood rushes to my head and I stay quiet, hoping he’ll flip me back over soon.

  We get to the student parking lot, filled with fancy looking cars. Lowering his body and placing my feet on the ground, he holds my arms to make sure I don’t fall over. When I’m stable, he puts his hands through my crazy hair, acting like he’s doing me a favor by taming it.

  “Your hair is wild, Eve.” He’s cackling, and I want to strangle him with my bare hands.

  “Thanks a lot, jackass. Everyone can’t have perfectly silky hair like you. I can’t imagine how much you probably pay for conditioner. You probably get it cut at the salon Janelle’s at, paying two-hundred-and-fifty bucks for a trim.”

  He guffaws, shaking his head in amazement. “I love this side of you,” he smiles, checking me out from my toes up to my face. “Actually, from a certain angle with your face all flushed and your hair all crazy, it kind of looks like you’ve just been –”

  “SHUT UP!” I yell, grabbing a clip from the bottom of my shirt. Before I can put it up, he stops me, his face turning serious. All of a sudden, things get quiet.

  “Leave it. I want to see you just like this.”

  My breath catches as he strokes my cheek with his calloused thumb.

  Letting me go, he casually walks to the driver’s side of his gorgeous black Range Rover, my bag still draped over his shoulder. He gets in the car, immediately lowering the passenger-side window.

  “Get in,” his voice commands. I lick my lips and take a breath. I have two choices. I can either run and leave my backpack, or get in the car. Clearly, he won’t take no for an answer. I think I have to run. I watch him unbuckle his seat belt and I freeze in my tracks. He steps out, walking back around the car.

  “You think you can run away from me?” He’s got a glint in his eye that’s so sexy and arrogant; I’d slap the ego off his face if I could. I look behind us, trying to map out a route.

  “Don’t map out a route,” he says, reading my mind perfectly with his ridiculously deep eyes.

  “Stop reading my mind, Vincent! What the hell?” I stomp my foot on the ground like a petulant child. And because I want to do the opposite of what he thinks, I get into the front seat. I try to shut the door, but fail to pull hard enough. Again, I open and shut it with a loud slam. Finally, I put my hair up just to spite him. There!

  Maybe it’s good I’m going. I can finally tell him that this is the last time he’s seeing me. Closure, right? Maybe once we talk, he’ll leave me alone, and I can just get on with my life. Damn his perfect body and amazing face and brilliant mind.

  We zip around campus until he pulls up to one of the older gothic-style libraries. We walk inside; the place is dim, covered in yellow light. The ceilings are so high and daunting. Even though it’s completely silent, I can hear the walls talk: brilliant minds have studied at these desks. I want to touch all of the books, flip through their soft, yellowed pages—and imagine who must have studied here before me. I feel…lucky.

  He walks us into the elevator and we exit on the fifth floor. We walk past the stacks and enter a study room.

  I move to the corner of the room and watch dumbly as he shuts the door behind him. His phone rings, momentarily startling me. He immediately pulls it out from his jacket.

  “Yes,” he states seriously, clenching his fists. I watch as his normally dark gaze morphs to threatening. This Vincent is straight-up deadly. “I’m going to have to deal with this later. I’ve got an important meeting right now.” He hangs up the phone and rolls out his shoulders, obviously trying to let go of whatever that call was about. Finally, he sits down. Staring at me, he’s waiting for me to take a seat. I sit, keeping my back straight.

  I need to start before he does. “Vincent, you’ve got a girlfriend, who I’ve been told will make my life a living hell if she sees us together. A girlfriend who has apparently been on your arm for years. And”—my temper rises—“how could you lie all that time about who you are and what you’ve been doing! I trusted you…I—”

  “Eve,” he states succinctly. “There’s a lot I’m going to tell you. But if you want to rail at me first, be my guest.” He leans back into his chair, crossing a huge leg over his opposite knee.

  My jaw drops. Screw that! I’m not letting him set the rules. He doesn’t get to tell me when I can be angry.

  “You know what? No. I’m not yelling at you.” I move my arms over my chest.

  He reaches out, placing a hand in the center of the table. “You ready to hear it?”

  “Why should I trust you? You swore you’d never lie to me.” I’m surprised to see the torment on his face.

  “I withheld. I told you as much as I could. Do you remember the stress you were under? How could I pile more shit on your plate?”

  I shut my eyes, unable to look at him. That night I found a dead cat on my doorstep was terrifying. And Vincent saved me. But then, why? How? How could—

  “Eve. Stop letting your mind go crazy. You know me. What we have is something entirely different. You know this,” he begs.

  “The world thinks you’re the golden couple! What does that make me, Vincent?” He flinches at the desperation in my voice.

  “No. Don’t say that. You were never the girl on the side.” He reaches out to me again, but I pull my hand away. “Eve—”

  “Don’t!” I turn my face away. “I’m here to tell you that we won’t be seeing each other anymore. The whole thing is too fucked-up. I know who you are. And we both know what I had to do to get myself out of that hell I was living in. I’m not getting sucked back in! You made me believe you cared about me, and…” I take in a breath and swallow. “I was so afraid at that time when really, you were the one I should have been afraid of.”

  I look down at the floor, gathering myself.

  He moves forward in his chair. “Eve, don’t play that game with me. You may be innocent in a lot of ways, but you weren’t exactly stopping me when I told you I’d take care of Carlos. You must have known that I had some reach.”

  “Don’t you throw that in my face! I had no choice, and—” I let out a dark laugh. “I thought you were the better option than the Borignone f
amily that Angelo was begging me to reach, how should I have known that you were the family?” My chest aches as the words leave my mouth.

  “Yeah. And big bad Vincent took care of Carlos for you, didn’t he?” He pushes himself back from the chair, looking up at the ceiling for a moment. “Let me go back to the beginning. You know now that I’m Borignone mafia. My father is Antonio, and I’m his only son. We do a lot of illegal shit and make a ton of cash doing it. A few years ago…” he continues, explaining the details of Daniela’s father, Alexander Costa, and how his bank houses and launders the family money.

  When he finally gets into the topic of Daniela, I can’t help but drop my head. “Don’t tune out, Eve. We were never exclusive. At the time, she was the one I was screwing around with in school. But right after I met you, I felt like I couldn’t keep living the lie. Business is one thing. But I wanted real. I wanted more. I wanted—you.” He throws his hands up in the air. “The faceless and the nameless girls. Daniela’s constant manipulations. I put a stop to it.”

  I slide my hand to the center of the table; he recognizes the offering and gently places his hand on top of mine while he continues to tell the rest to me. All the grimy details of why he’s stuck pretending to be her boyfriend in public make me feel ill. My heart actually aches for him, being forced to be near such a vile human. But he clearly has no other option right now.

  “So, you’re saying you haven’t touched her in all this time?”

  He nods his head sincerely, and I swallow hard, my mouth drying. I need a moment to process all of this new information. I meet his eyes and something passes between us; it’s a magnetic energy that is impossible to stop.

  “There’s more. You know that I’m half Native American.” I furrow my brows, confused why he’s reminding me of this.

  I hum my assent.

  “There are tribal lands in Nevada that rightfully belong to me because of my birthright. Well, technically, they are lands that belong to the entire Masuki Tribe. But I’m part of them.”

  There are so many questions I need to ask, and I have to trust my inner voice more. I must learn to speak up. But before I can get a word out, he continues.

  “I’ve got a plan to develop a hotel and casino complex. Seven men run the Masuki Tribal Council right now. I mean, shit, the place is a wasteland with nothing other than a few rundown gas stations and some trailers. I want to get out there and build out a resort to rival the current Vegas strip. All the bells and whistles and amenities, but minus the tacky glitz. Totally legitimate. And on the side, I will launder family money, too. And get us away from Costa’s hold.”

  “Does your father know?” I ask, wide-eyed.

  “Of course. I started thinking about it last year after I met you, and I’ve been doing the legwork ever since. It will be huge in scale, and I will be the one building and then running it. Most of the planning has been done on paper. I’m just waiting to graduate before I make the move and put the plan in motion.”

  I fixate on the smell of old books, trying to keep my emotions calm when a memory pops into my head. “The day I saw you around the corner when I was leaving work. And you took me out for pizza. You were at the meeting at Angelo’s pawn, right?”

  He nods his head in the affirmative. “I’m not ordinary, Eve. As Antonio’s son, I’m not just a simple soldier who can come and go as I please. This has been my path since I was born.” His eyes seem to swim with misery as he states this fact.

  “And th-this is what you want?” My heart beats on overtime. I want him to say no. I want him to say he plans to leave the life behind—because I can’t have him if he’s Borignone mafia. I’ve worked too hard in my life to come back to this, no matter how much I love him. It helps that I’ve lived how I’ve lived. Violence and drugs aren’t new to me. I just never thought I’d be here. This is exactly what I’ve been running from. I wanted to get away from this life, yet somehow, it has followed me. How can I turn back now?

  He stands up from the chair and paces the room, stopping at the glass partition and leaning his hands on the sill, facing away from me. All I can see is the large expanse of his back, and I yearn to step behind him, put my hands around his waist, and press my nose into his shirt. Instead, I grip the arms of my chair.

  He turns to me, his face settled in a grim line. “The choice has already been made for me, Eve. I’m made. This is my path. But understand that when I leave the East Coast, the heat will lessen. We aren’t like these shitty street gangs. Being cloaked in legitimacy is necessary. And I’ll be the face of that honest business.”

  My head lightens as he squeezes my hand on the table, leaning forward and looking at me pleadingly. “I’ll be building something real, Eve. Taxpaying citizen. Yes, I have a gun. I’m armed. That’s how it is for me. And, as of now, I have no choice but to continue being her ”—he pauses for a breath—“fake boyfriend. Acting like we’re together, in public. But Eve,” he continues. “Our relationship is completely contrived. Do you hear me? She knows it, and I know it. She just insists on looking like a couple for her image. But once I leave, we can be free.”

  “Can’t you just find her someone else? Maybe if she had another boyfriend, she’d leave you alone.” I feel desperate and angry.

  He huffs at my comment, seemingly annoyed. “You think I haven’t tried that?” I’ve attempted everything, but apparently, she thinks that having me is important for her image.”

  I feel my anger rise up; the injustice of it all forces the words out of my mouth. “But if you act like her boyfriend…tell her you’re her boyfriend…and everyone on earth believes you’re her boyfriend… Then, I’m confused why you think you aren’t? You are what you do and nothing else, Vincent. If I went to school to be a lawyer, practice law, hand out business cards that say ‘Eve Petrov, Esquire,’ can I now say I’m not really a lawyer?”

  “I will start the new business and then I will cut her loose. That’s it. And your metaphor isn’t appropriate, because boyfriend and girlfriend implies sexual relations, which we don’t have. It also implies fidelity, which we don’t have either. As far as she and I are concerned, the relationship between us is in name only. She doesn’t care who I fuck, so long as the girl doesn’t infringe on the public image. That’s all there is.”

  I drop my head. “What are you doing to me, Vincent? I’m not like these girls you know. I don’t have brass emotions. I can’t hear one thing, see another, and stay strong through it. And I can’t navigate this complicated social stuff... I’m not made that way.”

  “Don’t you know, from the minute I met you, it has only been you?” He moves his hands to gently cover mine, and I find it difficult to breathe. “I can’t even smell anyone but you…touch a woman who isn’t you…” He lifts his hand and caresses the side of my face while I shut my eyes tightly. “And no one, no one has ever turned me on like you…”

  The door of the study room opens. I feel a gust of cold air as Vincent’s hand moves off mine at lightning speed.

  We turn our heads at the same moment and I look up, staring into the ice-cold face of Daniela—shining dark red hair down past her perky boobs, tight white V-neck shirt, cropped navy leather jacket, tight skinny jeans and heels—and a look on her face that says she wants to tear me apart.

  “Hello.” Her smile is tight as her eyes dart between Vincent and me, finally stopping on my face. Licking her pink lips, she presses them together angrily. “I had no idea you knew my boyfriend. Wait, what was your name again? Evelyn?” She tilts her head to the side, putting a hand on Vincent’s back, possessively.

  I blink a few times, not sure what to say. I introduced myself at the party, but I’m obviously forgettable.

  Vincent sits up in his chair. “Daniela, this is Eve. She’s a freshman. Eve, this is my girlfriend, Daniela.” Vincent looks at me coldly. Just a moment ago he was an open telephone line, and Daniela just put a finger on the disconnect button.

  She sidles closer to him; in front of me is the best-looking
couple I’ve ever seen. They’re perfect together. I cower in my seat, feeling awkward in my Target clothing—the one who doesn’t belong.

  Daniela turns to him, hand massaging his neck. “Vincent, what are you doing here, anyway? Don’t you usually go to the gym Monday afternoons?” Her voice is accusing.

  He leans into his chair confidently, turning his face away from mine completely. “Yeah, well, Eve has been hanging out with Tom. She’s having a tough time in Ancient Philosophy, and he asked me to help her out.”

  “Wait, your Tom?” she says disbelievingly, moving her hair over her slender right shoulder.

  “Yeah. Tom. They met at Cohen’s party Saturday.”

  My heart starts to pound. Tom? What? “Eve and I decided to get to know each other some before we cracked our books open. You remember how hard Ancient Philosophy is, don’t you? And the start of the semester is the worst.” He leans back and puts his hands behind his head casually as if he’s got nothing to hide. Meanwhile, she continues to stare at the two of us skeptically.

  “Hey,” Vincent says to Daniela with a honeyed smile, bringing her attention back to him. “Wanna sit down and study with us?” He glides his fingers over her knuckles in the same way he just did to mine. My heart feels like it’s crumbling.

  She lifts the strap of her beautiful, quilted, black Chanel bag on her shoulder as she steps closer to him. “That’s okay.” She looks at me again warily.

  “Well,” she continues. “I just came to grab a book for French. I need to get home and start this paper. Oh, I’m meeting with my father tonight.”

  I watch as he slides his fingers between hers. “Make sure you get those questions answered for me, okay baby?”

  I want to tear her hair out and then run into a corner and cry.

  “Of course, Vincent. We’re still going to the movies tomorrow night?” She puts her hands in his hair, pushing his gorgeous dark strands back.

  “Sure,” he says with a smile.

  Casually leaning forward, she presses her lips against his. I swallow back a gasp when he pulls out his hands to bring her closer. He’s telling me with his body language that they’re together. No—they’re better than together. They’re in love. The most influential couple on campus is sitting in front of me, and it’s not just a simple photo on the internet. Their relationship doesn’t look like a ruse, and I’m watching it in real time. Everything he just told me goes up in smoke. What’s genuine and what’s fake? I can’t navigate this.