Reckoning (Vincent and Eve #2)

by Jessica Ruben

  When I finally re-open my eyes, Vincent is gone. I feel my stomach drop as I look around. Did he get so mad that he left with Daniela? What time is it? I need my phone. Where is my bag? Anxiety and alcohol are wreaking havoc on my insides. When the guy tries to pull me to him, I shake him off me, quickly running to the table.

  Claire is sitting on Tom’s lap, whispering in his ear. I interrupt them. “Claire, did you see Vincent?” I feel myself sway, my voice raspy and eyes dry. Even in my drunkenness, I can see that she’s looking at me with pity. A scenario becomes clear in my foggy mind. It’s everything I just imagined—except instead of me with Vincent in the bathroom—it’s Daniela. Daniela is against the wall. Vincent’s lips are on HER neck. She’s moaning. Everyone knows they are in there. I’m stuck out here, the idiot. He’s fucking her. She’s better for him than me.

  I’m completely messed up, engaging in this weird triangle I’m not equipped to handle.

  Janelle moves behind me. “I think you should go home. You’ve had too much drink. Let me get us a cab.”

  I continue to look around the room. Where is he? I need Vincent. The tears well up in my eyes. Is he mad at me?

  Tom stands, saying something to Janelle. Not a moment later, he’s grabbing my arm. “Let’s go, Eve. Your night is over.”

  “What the hell, Tom?” I’m furious as he hustles me forward, not giving me a chance to even say goodbye. I’m teetering on my heels as Tom drags me out of the club.

  Right outside, a black Escalade stands with its engine running. Tom opens the car door, pushing me in and throwing my purse behind me, like used trash.

  “Tom?” I’m confused, my brain muddled. He slams the door shut. Looking at the driver in front, it dawns on me this is the same car and driver that picked us up tonight.

  The door reopens and Vincent jumps in the back. Fuming. I should be afraid of his intensity, but instead, I feel my own anger bubbling up—and my want.

  “You’re lucky I was there,” he sneers. “You can’t just grind against random guys at clubs. You know what you’re asking for, right?” His voice is condescending and dripping with antagonism.

  “Yeah?” I sass. “Well, I’m just trash, anyway. The girl who spreads her legs for nothing while you go out with the fancy girl in public?” The bitterness in my voice surprises me.

  He gets closer, lowering his voice to a dark whisper. “You think I treat you like garbage, huh?” My eyes widen with anxiety. This isn’t my Vincent. This is Vincent Borignone.

  I press myself against the door, trying to get some distance when he reaches over me to buckle my seatbelt. “Don’t touch me!” I shriek. In an instant, his huge hand is around my throat. I freeze. He’s not squeezing or hurting me, but I know that he could if he wanted to, and that thought alone is enough to immobilize me.

  His face is hard as stone. “You want to know what being treated like a whore feels like, Eve? Should I make you suck my dick right now and then throw you out of the car? Should I hand you my black AmEx and tell you to go shopping for a day before I share you with my friends?”

  I can’t breathe. I blink, salt water coating my face. I’m crying.

  “I’m mad as FUCK right now!” He slams his hand against the seat in front of him. “You think you can walk around a club, touching a man who isn’t me?” His voice echoes around the car.

  He’s scaring the shit out of me and turning me on like I didn’t know was possible. My body is acting completely out of control and I have no wherewithal to rein myself in. He lets his hands roam down my chest and onto my legs, lifting my dress higher and caressing my upper thighs with his fingertips. My panties are instantly soaked. My body knows what his hands can do, and my legs immediately part for him.

  “You wanted to make me jealous with that fucking guy? You got your wish, baby.” His hands rove higher, calloused thumb skimming the edges my underwear. Oh, God. I tilt my pelvis up as I lean back into the seat.

  The moment I shut my eyes, his body heat disappears. I sit up, noticing that he’s no longer near me. It feels as if he’s punishing me. Even though my mind is telling me not to, I move closer to him.

  “Vincent, I’m sorry, okay? I hated seeing you guys together. Why did she even show up? She t-told me how you like to be dirty. Told me that I’m nothing.” I’m shuddering, feeling cold and hot and nauseated. Is he going to leave me because I danced with someone else? I’d die if he leaves me. My tears fall harder down my face.

  He turns back to me, his eyes frigid. “What else did she say to you?”

  “She told me that I’m not the first, but she’ll always be the only. She told me…she told me…you’ve been with a gazillion girls! But sh-she’s the only one who matters. She’s the wife; I’m cheap, and I’m the whore.”

  He pulls me onto his lap, shushing me while I ugly cry. Somehow, I fall asleep in his arms.

  Before I know it, my door opens. I wake up seeing Vincent crouched down onto the pavement, angling my body toward him. Before I can ask him what he’s doing, he pulls off my high heels. “Ahh!” I gasp as they drop off my feet.

  “Oh, it hurts,” I moan. He squeezes my arches with his thumbs and I cringe from the pleasure and pain. Lifting me up in his arms, I immediately wrap my legs around his waist and rest my head on his shoulder. He walks me up the flights of stairs to my dorm room as if I weigh nothing at all, putting his hands into my bag to pull out my keys.

  Dropping my face into his neck, I take a deep inhale. “You smell so good, Vincent. I want to smell you forever. Tell me we’re forever. Don’t be mad at me about that guy. I was jealous, okay? I can be dirty too, if you want.” Whoever said alcohol was a truth serum wasn’t lying. He chuckles at my oversharing.

  “We’re here,” he whispers, swinging open my door. He gently places me down on my bed.

  “Lift your hands.” I raise my arms and he pulls up my dress.

  “Vincent, you really shaved your head.” I put my hands on his head, rubbing the short scruff.

  “Didn’t I tell you I would?” His voice is low and deep as he gently pushes my hair back.

  “But that was a while ago. I thought you forgot.”

  “I’ll keep it shaved until we can be together openly. What do you think?”

  I hiccup. “J-Janelle knows, now. And she’s so mad….”

  He licks his lips. “Because she loves you. Maybe you should tell her the truth. I don’t want to isolate you from your sister.”

  He holds the back of my hair, staring at each feature of my face. “Why did you wear so much makeup tonight? I hated it.” My stomach sinks at his displeasure.

  “You did?” I raise my eyes to his nervously.

  “Yes. Don’t do it again.” His voice is warm, but also sharp.

  “But, everyone said it looked good. And that’s how all the girls look here. I’m trying to fit in better—”

  “How many times do I have to remind you? You aren’t other girls. You’ll never be other girls. When I look at you, I don’t want to see them. They’re fake, Eve. They’ve lost their innocence. You are nothing like them. Never will be.”

  “But, I want to be. I know the type you’re used to...” I pause, my chest aching with the thought.

  “No,” he sighs, using his thumb to wipe my tears. “Don’t you understand that you are my only type?”

  I nod my head. “Okay, Vincent. No more makeup. Maybe just a little?”

  He rolls his eyes and I shift to get under the covers. Pulling the comforter up and over me, he tucks it into my sides. I want to feel his lips on mine. His tongue in my mouth. Instead, he asks, “Do you have Advil?”

  “Under the bed,” I croak. I hear my plastic drawers opening and closing, and then the sink turning on. Finally, I feel his warm breath by my ear. “Sleep.”

  “Will you stay?”

  “Not long. Can’t bump into anyone in the morning.” He moves behind me, pulling my body into his chest. I slide my legs between his so that we’re entwined and let out a loud exh
ale. Vincent is my home.

  “I wish you brought me to SoHo,” I say quietly, nestling deeper into his chest.

  “Me too. I was angry and wasn’t thinking. Tomorrow night.”

  I hum my assent.

  When I wake up, I turn to my bedside clock and see that it’s five am. I sit up for a moment, my head pounding and muddled. I see the pills and a huge cup of water and immediately swallow them down. I’m not sure what was real and what was a dream last night. But when I put my nose into my pillow inhaling, I know Vincent was here.

  CHAPTER 18

  EVE

  Vincent and I spend most of spring break in bed. I’ve cooked us every meal, and all we did was lounge around, make love, watch movies, and eat. We dance together too, because Vincent he knows how much I love it. He’s tried a few times to discuss what happened at the club, but I told him I didn’t want to talk about it. There’s no use in rehashing Daniela’s words when they do nothing but make me insecure.

  Yesterday, I saw an episode on the Food Network of Giada making spaghetti Bolognese, and I wanted to make it for Vincent. I think he is going to be in heaven. At least, I hope so. I slice up a fresh baguette with garlic and olive oil, and pop it into the oven to get nice and crispy. The salad is already washed and sitting in the fridge.

  I check the clock. Vincent will be home from his workout in about thirty minutes. While the sauce simmers, I decide now is a good time to wash up and get the smell of fried onions out of my hair.

  I shower and then open up his side table to pull out a white T-shirt. It’s snug on Vincent, but gigantic on me. I slide it on and grin; he loves when I wear his clothes, and I love it too. Just as I’m drying my hair with the towel, I hear the front door open and shut. “Hi honey, I’m home!” Vincent yells.

  I laugh as he comes up behind me, but then cry out when I realize his shirt is soaked in sweat. “Ugh, Vincent! I just got clean, and now you’re getting me all gross!” I’m trying to sound mad, but we both know I couldn’t care less. I’ll take him any way I can get him.

  “Let me get you nice and dirty. I want you back in the shower with me.”

  “No. Dinner will be ready soon and I know you must be hungry.”

  “You know I love when you feed me. And the house smells fucking fantastic. But right now, I’m hungry for something else.” He nips at my ear and my head rolls back.

  An hour later, I’m drying my hair for the second time. I run into the kitchen to get everything ready for us while he makes some calls. Finally, he joins me by the stove, wearing jersey shorts and a T-shirt. His hair is still buzzed, making him look dangerous.

  He moves to a seat and I bring everything to the table. “Goddamn, I’m a lucky man.”

  I smile and sit next to him. Vincent bows his head to say grace. I’ve never been religious before, but I know he grew up Catholic, and it’s important to him. I press his cross against my chest, my own little version of a prayer.

  We get to eating, and he groans that it’s the best meal he’s ever eaten.

  “You really are an incredible cook. If law school doesn’t work, there’s always culinary school, huh?” I preen at his compliment. Looking down at his empty bowl gives me more satisfaction than I thought possible. If I could, I’d feed this man every single meal for the rest of my life. I know this is a negative for womankind and all, but cooking for him fulfills some emptiness inside my heart I didn’t even realize existed. And watching him enjoy the food I made? Euphoria.

  He pushes his chair closer to mine and I’m immediately assaulted by his amazing scent—fresh laundry and something purely Vincent.

  He puts his hands in my hair, moving his fingers down to massage my neck. “Move in with me.”

  “I can’t do that—”

  “Why?” He wraps his hands around my face, smiling. He’s genuine and delicious warmth. “Stay here. Bring your things over. You don’t have to go back just because break is almost over.”

  He lets go of me and I crawl into his lap, nuzzling in his chest.

  “I never want you anywhere else. In a few months, I’ll be gone. I want to maximize our time together.”

  “But isn’t it dangerous? Like, what if Daniela—”

  “She won’t know. She doesn’t even know this apartment exists. And technically, you’ll still have your room in the quad. I just don’t wanna ask you to come over. I need to get home every night and have you here. In our home. I wanna wake up in the morning to you by my side. Drink my coffee with you.”

  “But the girls on my floor will start to wonder—”

  “No, they won’t. Didn’t you tell me they’re all in the middle of pledging sororities? Everyone makes all these friends first semester, but once they pledge, anyone who isn’t in their sorority becomes a distant friend. That’s the way it works here.”

  A smile spreads across my face and he laughs, his dark eyes twinkling. “I fucking love you. Want you in my bed every night of my life.”

  I curl myself around him. “It’s gonna suck to be far from each other in a few months.”

  “Have you heard from any schools yet?” His voice is encouraging.

  “Just waiting for interview dates. But you know, I can still apply to some places in Nevada—”

  “No fuckin’ way,” he replies gruffly, dropping his fork. “We’ve discussed this already. I’m not letting you lower your standards, and California is close enough to where I’ll be. You’ve worked all your life to get the best education; I’m not gonna be the reason you lose that.”

  His phone chimes, interrupting our conversation. He reads the message and curses. “Baby, I gotta go.”

  “No,” I complain.

  “Yes.” He stands up with his plate in hand. “Dinner was amazing. Beyond fucking good. Don’t throw out any of it. I want leftovers tomorrow or later tonight.”

  “I’m glad you liked it.” I fuss with my hair as he proceeds to move everything from the table into the kitchen. “So, where are you going?” I know he never tells me, but…

  “We’ve been through this.” His hard voice shakes me back to reality. “Don’t ask. When it’s family business, it isn’t yours.” His voice is firm, with no room for negotiation.

  My stomach clenches. I hate when he acts this way. Doesn’t he understand I’m afraid he’ll get hurt? What if the cops show up? Who would even be able to tell me if something went wrong?

  He cleans the table silently, and I know he’s gearing up for whatever is to come tonight. When he’s done, he moves to the bedroom. I follow him into his walk-in closet, which I now know houses his weapons arsenal. Opening his gun safe, he methodically takes out holsters and guns. He takes off his clothes after dropping everything onto the bed. He’s so strong and powerful, but I yearn to take care of him.

  He moves to strap himself when I step in front of him. “Let me,” I tell him softly. He blinks as I take his ankle holsters and drop to my knees, wrapping them above his feet. “Is this good?” I tighten them, staring up at him and biting my bottom lip.

  He nods, handing me two small handguns that I slide inside and then fasten. Walking to his drawers, he pulls out a fresh black T-shirt and a pair of black jeans: his standard outfit when he leaves for business. He puts on another holster over his shirt, and I stand on my tippy-toes to tighten it for him. The straps make his muscles stand out even more than they normally do. I take two other guns off the bed and drop one in the left pocket and the other in the right. When the guns are secure, he pulls my hair back with his hands, forcing me to look into his eyes. I can only imagine what my face must be saying, because my heart is pounding and my core is pulsing. I want him so badly; I’m practically shaking.

  As if a cloud passes through him, his eyes turn impossibly cold. I feel his breath against my lips, so imposing that I pause. I wouldn’t dare move when he’s in this zone.

  He presses his lips to my ear. “Check the desk in the bedroom. I left something for you.” His voice is curt, but I manage to nod my head. Stepping
away from me, he takes a dark zip-up sweatshirt from his cabinet before striding out of the apartment. My stomach tenses as the door slams; he’s gone.

  Seemingly out of nowhere, I feel a pang for my sister. Vincent mentioned I should come clean and tell her everything. Now that he’s not home, it’s probably a good time. I pick up the phone to call her, biting my bottom lip nervously.

  She answers after the first ring. “It’s been almost three fucking weeks since your finals. I know you have no classes right now. So where have you been? I keep calling you and all I get in reply are some stupid texts telling me you’re okay?” She’s fuming. “You owe me a goddamn explanation!”

  I fill her in on all the details. We cry together through the honest talk, but after over an hour of back and forth, she understands I’m going to take the risk for Vincent—no matter what. He and I are in this together, for the long haul. We’re in love, and there’s really nothing anyone can do or say at this point that can change that. Once she realizes that arguing with me is virtually impossible, she promises to try and get over it. Still though, she’s angry at the choices I’ve made. I hang up, feeling relieved that at least Janelle finally knows. The lying was like a deadweight on my ankle.

  Next, I call Claire, checking in to see how her break is going. She tells me she’s unpacking and we make a plan for lunch between classes tomorrow. Even though I adore her, I don’t think it’s possible to maintain a true friendship when I hold secrets as big as the one I’m keeping. One of the things that saddens me the most about my situation with Vincent is because it’s under the radar; we can’t just live like a regular couple. I wished for a typical college life with studying and some parties, too, but I guess it isn’t in the cards for me.

  After cleaning up the dishes and saving the leftovers, I shuffle back into the bedroom to find a beautiful set of fresh keys with charms on a keychain, a list of security codes, and a note from Vincent.

  Eve,