Page 31 of Crimson Fate

“Vincent? Hi.” She sounds surprised, yet her tone holds a hint of curiosity. “What can I do for you?”

I take a deep breath, the weight of uncertainty settling in my chest. “I wanted to ask if you would be interested in going away for the weekend with me,” I say, my words coming out in a rush. “Just the two of us.”

There is a pause on the line, and I can almost hear Gia’s mind racing as she contemplates my proposal. Finally, she responds, her voice tinged with intrigue. “Just the two of us?”

I nod even though she can’t see me. “Yes, exactly. I think it would be a good opportunity to spend quality time getting to know each other better.”

Another moment passes before Gia speaks again. “Where are we going?”

A smile tugs at the corner of my lips. “I was thinking of taking you to a small seaside town not too far from here where we have a place. It’s secluded and peaceful—a perfect place to escape.”

Gia chuckles softly on the other end of the line. “It sounds lovely.”

“Great. I can arrange a car to pick you up Friday evening if that works for you.”

Gia responds after a moment of hesitation. “Friday evening sounds perfect.”

As we finalize the details, a sense of nervous excitement bubbles within me, and the unrelenting stress and pressure of my daily duties melt away for a moment. This weekend getaway is a chance to truly explore what lies between us and see if the connection we felt during that dinner can evolve into something deeper.

A strange quiet settles over me as I set the phone down. With a deep breath, I turn back to the skyline visible through the window. My reflection stares back at me, a man typically sure of his every move, now teetering on the edge of uncertainty, and I hate it.

Fuck. Why do I let Amelia and Eva get into my head?

Chapter Twelve

I’m lounging in the oversized leather chair in my study, staring into the crackling fireplace, when Marco interrupts my thoughts with the sharp rap of his knuckles on the large wooden door. “Boss, you have a visitor.”

First Amelia and now another, I think as I wonder who it might be.

“Who is it?”

“It’s her—Eva,” he replies.

“Huh.” I grunt, a little surprised by his answer. “Where is she?”

“She’s standing with Walter, waiting to see if she can get buzzed up,” he answers.

“Of course, she can. Let her up,” I exclaim, checking my appearance in the mirror at the other end of the room.

I debate whether I should greet her at the elevator but decide not to move an inch from the supple leather chair that molds to my form like a second skin. I already texted that I was sorry. That’s more than a man like me normally does.

I hear the elevator ding, Marco and Eva exchanging words in the distance, and then, a couple of minutes later, she steps inside my office. She’s a vision in her fitted jeans and a simple white blouse that does nothing to conceal her fiery spirit. Her arms cradle a covered dish, steam-whispering promises of a home-cooked meal.

“Hey. Got your text,” Eva says, setting the food down on the mahogany desk with a clink. “I thought you might be hungry, so I brought a peace offering.”

“Appreciate it, but you didn’t have to do that,” I reply, eyes tracing the curve of her hip where her hand rests casually. She’s always been one to take care of others, a nurturing force in this world of chaos and bloodshed.

“Do you want me to take it when I leave?” she asks, knowing she has no intentions of doing so, just as I have none of allowing her to.

“Smells good. What did you bring?” I deflect, standing to stretch my legs.

“Chicken parm.” Her voice holds a lilt of hope as if she’s offering more than just food.

“Wow, really?” I ask, avoiding her gaze. It’s easier this way. If I look into those deep brown eyes, I might spill everything—my doubts, my fears, and the way her presence ties my insides in knots.

“Don’t sound so surprised. You know very well that I’m a great cook,” she notes, her eyebrow arching in a silent challenge.

“Yes, I do! And God help anyone who says anything to the contrary,” I offer with a smile. “And, Eva, I really did mean it when I apologized earlier. I should have never come at you the way I did.”

---