Page 9 of Sweet Venom

However, lately, Say has been getting sloppy, and I feel it's inadvertently related to Vi's sudden re-appearance. Something I have mixed feelings about, but I think Vi's presence turned him into a colder bastard than he already is. Sebastian has been after Sayward for the past month, but their last encounter really upset her. He's the embodiment of a narcissist when he's the last person in the world who has room to pass judgment. The fucker has clearly forgotten his trailer trash roots.

After the stunt he pulled with Sayward two weeks ago, it's taken a lot of restraint not to blow my cover. I understand his frustration with her, but he can't prove anything, and I have no doubt that his need to control is forcing him to use fear tactics. She has yet to talk to me about what happened. All I know is that he didn't hurt her. We have code for that. However, I know she's upset, which kills me. But I learned years ago not to push. She'll come to me when she's ready, and now that Vi is back, she might have a little more time.

Vi's return to San Jose could change the dynamic. After all, she was my plan all along, but I thought that avenue had been lost when she disappeared two months ago. She literally vanished out of thin air. While our conversations were never incredibly personal, I know she had been visiting the gym twice a day in the weeks leading up to her departure, which wasn't normal for her. Vi is a creature of habit and predictable. You wouldn't think that by talking to her. In fact, you'd get the exact opposite impression. She personifies the fun life. The uncommitted, strong-willed, single friend out there living her best life. But because I've watched her from the shadows, carefully studying my prey before I made my move, I know differently. That quick wit and sharp tongue are all part of her mask, her shield to hide her own skeletons. The problem is, she can't hide from me.

I know precisely where Vi is because I followed her home. I watched her disappear inside that building, and I know for a fact she hasn't come out, but that ends today. If she doesn't appear, I'm going in. Meeting Vivian Fiori was always part of the plan. It's falling that wasn't.

It's 6:30am on Friday morning, and she needs to leave her building to reach the job site by 7am. When the clock on my dash flashes to 6:31, I decide I'm all in. Going after her is a risk I'm willing to take. However, just as my foot hits the pavement, a blacked-out Porche Cayman emerges from the parking garage. That car belongs to Ellis Lykos, and because he's out of town, there's a chance it's Vi. I quickly close my door so as not to draw attention to myself. I'm sure she won't notice me. She never has. I've been feet away from her, and she didn't have a clue. Same as now. Pulling out of the garage, she drives right past my car. Her eyes are cast down as if she's texting and driving, and I feel my anxiety spike up a notch from her carelessness.

Pulling out, I make a U-turn to follow her in. I'm sure she is headed to Blush after being MIA all week, but I'm not taking any chances. This week was reminiscent of her disappearance two months ago, and I can't afford for her to disappear again. It's even more important this time. When I see the Porche pull into a McDonald's, I text Mark that I'm running behind. McDonald's is not food that the Vi I know would eat. I'm not saying she's a health nut, but in my months of following her, she’s never stopped for fast food. This detour is very uncharacteristic. But, then again, she's been out all week. Maybe she's stopping for the crew.

I park a lot over and wait as she goes through the drive-thru. The attendant hands her multiple bags, proving my assumption about stopping for the crew is likely correct. But rather than drive off with the food, she pulls into a parking spot. From where I am, I don't have a clear view into her car, but from what I can see, she's digging through the bags. Five minutes go by, and she still hasn't moved. I pull my car out and swing around for a closer look, but she backs out as I approach.

After following her all the way to work, I don't bother trying to hide that I'm late and pull in right beside her. She has no idea I trailed her here. To her, it would appear we coincidently arrived at the same time. As I pull in, she spots me through the driver-side window. I give her a wave, and she throws me a forced half-smile. What the fuck is that about? Climbing out of my Jeep Wrangler, I come around and stand at her door, waiting for her to open it.

"Can I help you?" she asks with a hint of irritation.

With the window down, I can tell she's tired. She has deep circles under her eyes like she hasn't slept in days, and her normally glowing skin is pale. When I don't immediately respond because I'm too busy taking in her sickly appearance, she rolls up the window and opens the door. As I step to the side to let her out, I see she's lost weight. The woman doesn't have an ounce of fat to lose in the first place, which is saying something. Her white bodysuit that I love is currently loose around her hips, where it typically hugs her like a glove.

"What the hell, Vivian? Have you been sick?"

She side eyes me and blows out a breath of frustration before asking, "Aren't you late? Shouldn't you be inside?"

That's new. Vi has never given me an attitude. A better man would step back and leave her be, but I can't do that. Not when I know this isn't her. Before she can reach back into the car to grab her bag, I close the door.

"Talk to me, Vi. The girl I know wouldn't have missed being onsite for the past week to watch her dream come to life. And don't give me some shit about how you're sick, because we both know that would be bullshit. You have a phone, email," I pause before grabbing her wrist. "Apple watch. You have countless ways to get a hold of someone—"

"Just stop, alright. I don't want to talk about it. Ask me in a few hours, and maybe then I'll give you something, but right now, I just don't have the energy." Her gaze drags from the ground and back to me, and I see her plea before she even asks, "Please?"

Before I let my mind get carried away with all the possibilities of what unfolded in that condo this week, I notice the multiple bags of fast food sitting in the passenger seat, so I ask, "Can I at least help you with the bags?"

It's clear she's exhausted, and I know she's not good with words, so I let this go for now. Vivian doesn't do well with emotions or feelings. Her shoulders visibly relax from my words, and I hate it. I know she's hiding. She's putting that mask back on.

"Yeah, thanks. I appreciate it. I know it doesn't make up for the past week, but who doesn't like free food?

Opening the car, I throw her laptop bag over my shoulder and grab the fast-food bags from the passenger seat before snagging her cell phone from the cup holder. I pause momentarily when I see that a text came through while we were talking.

Ellis: Do what you need to do, baby.

Tongue in cheek, I inwardly cringe. I know they're dating, but it doesn't mean I have to like it. I quickly right myself and step out of the car, handing her the phone before she can notice my snooping. As I give her the phone, she turns and starts heading toward the building without a word. I close the door and swallow my annoyance, knowing her attention will be on him as we walk back, but she surprises me. Where I thought she'd have her head buried in her phone, she shoves it into the back pocket of her jeans.

"Did I miss a lot? I'm sure everyone now thinks I'm an entitled rich bitch who only comes in as her spa, shopping, and social life allow."

Her sarcasm is obvious, but I also hear her pain. She wanted to be here, which means something prevented her from doing so. I roll my lips, biting back my desire to revisit my original question of 'what the fuck happened,' and say, "No one thinks that, Vi. Mark and I are the only people who know that you were MIA. The rest of the crew probably haven't put much thought into it one way or the other." Reaching the front door, I pull it open and add, "Most owners aren't onsite for this part of the process. That's uniquely you."

Her eyes meet mine, and she gives me a meek half-smile. Again, a new look for her. Vivian Fiori is a hellcat. Something’s knocked her down, but I have no doubt she will come back swinging. I just wish she'd let me help her.

"Thanks, Tate."

Once she steps inside, I can't help but watch her eyes light up. The last time she saw the place, it was only framed out. The drywall is up. Electricians are coming in today, as well as more inspectors. A few of the guys have started working on the floor-to-ceiling shelving unit that will go behind the welcome desk, and the windows are getting film set on them today that prevents people from looking in. That was her number one request: that all the windows be one-way. The windows are her favorite part of the place. Blush is on the corner of the block. The entire front and right side are floor-to-ceiling windows. She appreciated the natural light that came in through the windows and enjoyed the idea of conducting dance classes without being noticed by passersby. Members would feel more comfortable knowing they are not being observed.

Before I can give her all the updates myself, Mark spots her. "Fiori, good, you're here." He bolsters from across the room, drawing prying eyes in her direction. She pops the knuckles on her right hand with her thumb, and I know all eyes on her after being MIA for a week have her feeling a little uneasy. Of course, she doesn't need my help, but I give it anyway.

"She brought breakfast, boys," I announce, taking the heat off her. Vi doesn't give me her eyes, but she doesn't need to. I can see her fist clench. My move just pissed her off as much as it alleviated whatever stress she was feeling. I just showed her my hand. If my line of questioning at the car wasn't a giveaway, this was. She now knows I see her. I can read her. What she does doesn’t go unnoticed by me. She doesn't like it. But she will—of that, I am sure.

Vivian Fiori has something I want, and I don't mind getting under her skin to get it.

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