Page 33 of Sweet Venom

Something about the vexation in his tone gives me pause, because he's right. I genuinely don't know what I'm dealing with when it comes to Tatum Carroway, but I can't help but feel like his words were not solely about him. He wastes no time getting to his seat and starting up the Jeep, which is easy, considering he has the doors off. For some reason, the doors being off eases the small amount of panic currently threatening to rise. If I really had to get away, I could drop and roll out of a moving vehicle. Not ideal, but an option nonetheless.

As we pull out of the garage, he must sense the direction of my thoughts because he says, "Don't even think about it, Vivian. I would never hurt you."

His words somehow settle the small amount of doubt that crept up. While I have no reason to trust him, for whatever reason, I believe them. "What is this, Tate? Where are you taking me?"

I study him as he drives, one hand resting on the wheel and the other on the stick. Sure, I've seen him at the gym wearing few clothes more than once. His body is covered in tats, but I never stared. Every glance was stolen and discreet, but now that I’m in his car and he’s taking me against my will, I’m taking my fill. My eyes don’t know where to focus first. On his arm closest to me, I can see shaded beams of light with clouds, two doves flying toward the sun, and a bed of roses resting beneath. I'm sure the piece is sentimental because a full rendering of the Blessed Mother Mary is on the same forearm. The art must be an homage to his parents.

His muscles flex in his arm as he shifts to get on the highway, breaking my thoughts, and he notices. Our eyes briefly meet, the direction of my thoughts more than evident. If his clenched jaw isn't confirmation enough that the piece I was thoroughly dissecting isn't something he cares to discuss right now, his sudden readiness to answer my questions is.

"Let's start with your first question. This is me throwing my hat in the ring. We were never going to be 'just friends.' You friend-zoned me because it made you feel more comfortable, but we both know there was always more."

He glances my way, holding my gaze long enough to confirm what he believes is his rightness in that statement before returning his eyes to the road, which pisses me off. "God, you're infuriating," I shout as I pull my hair to one side to keep it from blowing like crazy and whipping in my face while I attempt to put him in his place. "I don't know how I didn't see it from the start. Like every other guy, you're just trying to swoop in and lay claim when we're not looking for it. This is exactly why I'm building the gym, so women can work on themselves without the prying, manipulative eyes of a man trying to get laid. Just because I talked to you didn't mean I wanted to sleep with you."

I watch as he rolls his lips, and his hand grips the steering wheel a little bit tighter than necessary. Good. I hope I did piss him off. How dare he accuse me of asking for this? I face forward, feeling somewhat satisfied with my rant, before finding myself irritated that he's holding back. If I want to settle anything, we need to get it all out now. Lay everything on the table so we can move on. So I say, "Spit it out, Tate. It's clear you have something to say."

"So you didn't want to watch me play with my dick the other day in your office?"

"That was different," I immediately snap.

"Oh, yeah? And why is that, Vi? It's okay for you to look and not me? You're overthinking this. You like me; I like you. Period. There is no ring on your finger. Me and you are happening," he asserts as if I do not get a say in the matter.

"You don't get to decide that. I have a boyfriend who I have no plans of leaving."

I'd been so caught up in our exchange that I hadn't noticed he had, in fact, been telling me the truth when he said he was taking me home. Shocker. Pulling over, he parks across the street from Ellis's building and says, "I'm done watching you choose wrong. He's not a good man, Vi."

My brow furrows as I search his expression and I ask, "And how would you know that?"

“I want to know who put those bruises on you,” he growls out as his hand tightens around the steering wheel before he finds some level of composure and adds, “I want to demand it, but I’m going to go out on a limb and say Ellis is not the one who put them on you. Because here’s the thing, the girl I know wouldn’t stay with a man who hurt her.”

The words to refute his statement are right on the tip of my tongue. I want to tell him that the bruises are not from the type of pain he thinks they are. That no man touched me in a way that I didn't allow. In fact, I more than enjoyed earning every one of them, but they spark another thought: would I stay with a man who hurt me? Because Sebastian has been nothing but cruel since the day I met him, yet I allow him to take from me, use me.

When I don’t give him anything, he says, “If I had to guess, the man who put those marks on your body is still walking, and therein lies the problem, Vi. I’m not going anywhere.”

Avoiding that emotional rabbit hole, I refocus the conversation on a crucial topic I'm not sure he has given much thought to. "You realize Ellis is going to come for you now. If the way he stared you down this afternoon wasn't warning enough, you just launched a missile, and Tate, you and I both know you don't have his resources to win."

I watch as he sets his jaw and keeps his eyes trained out the front window and not on me. My words may sound condescending, but I don't mean them to be. I'm not knocking Tate for not having tons of money like Ellis; I'm simply stating the facts. People like Tate don't win against men like him. Say I did choose Tate. Men with Ellis's reach would go to great lengths to ensure the option no longer existed. "You don't want to be on his radar."

"Ellis Lykos knows exactly who I am…" he all but seethes before adding, "And I'm not scared, but he should be. Now get out of the car, Vi."

I watch him for a few more seconds as I try to wrap my mind around all that has been said, but I know nothing will be settled tonight. We are too far apart. He said his piece, and while I said mine, he needs time to accept that my feelings for him don't matter; they don't change anything. I care for Tatum, but I want Ellis more. So, without another word, I exit the car and hope I can at least save Tate from himself.

Chapter 14

The Mastermind

It's just past midnight when I get home, and not a light is on in the house. After what I learned this afternoon from Mason, I'm not surprised that Vivian didn't come tonight as I asked. I now have a better understanding of where her fight-or-flight instincts come from. Vivian spun the tale she wanted me to see at the Serra Estate. One that filled in enough details that background searches I know she's more than aware I've pulled didn't provide.

Don't get me wrong; I could see the discomfort and pain in her eyes as she recounted her loneliness, but there was more in her eyes. I could see it. And in hindsight, I think she knew I could see it. It's why she didn't tell me about her finances. That nugget of information would be yet another layer she could hide behind. Another false wall to trick you into believing she's handing over everything, when in reality, she's still hiding.

She told me about her loveless childhood and being passed between houses. Her father's grudge that was borderline certifiable. The man had a deep-seated hate for reasons I don't understand. She told me about her room and how there was nothing in it, and how while she was at his house, most of her time was spent in there. It was a better alternative to being subjected to his malevolence, but the detail she failed to disclose is that her choice to stay in her room was not her own.

Her father locked her in there as a form of punishment. There was no choice involved. She was locked in it for the entirety of the time she spent on his watch. Meals were delivered, and the door was locked. She had an ensuite to bathe and use the restroom, and one window where she would sit and stare out for hours. It faced the backyard, and because her father is a spineless prick, I'm sure that was intentional. There wasn't a party, gathering, or afternoon spent where she didn't watch life happen as though she didn't exist at all.

Solitary confinement is one of the worst punishments a person can endure. The lasting effects are every bit as harmful and scarring as physical abuse. Humans are naturally social beings. The loss, exclusion, and rejection alone lead many to take their own lives. I've always known Vivian is a force. Her grit and moxie are unmatched. Now I know why. It took every ounce of restraint I had not to leave Mason's office and charter a flight to St. Louis to beat the living shit out of her father.

I've never understood how some people can be so cruel. My own parents were shit; I'm no stranger to cold-hearted, unfeeling bastards, but for fuck’s sake, at some point, these people have to pay for their sins. The only reason I never went after my own parents for their treatment of us was that I whole-heartedly believed they were living in their own personal hell anyway, one that they ultimately burned alive in.

However, Julian Fiori is still very much alive. Mason said Vivian’s father is a controlling, egotistical tyrant. He told me I didn't need to worry about retribution because Vivian would ultimately put the nail in his coffin. Julian thought he was breaking her, but instead, he was building her. Either way, I intend to ensure he answers for his transgressions.

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