Page 38 of Sweet Venom

Before I forget to ask by letting my mind focus on the one man who probably has not thought of me once in two weeks, I say, "Your turn. What do you know about Tatum Carroway?"

Chapter 16

The Shadow

I pounce the second I see Charlie Croft walk out of Vi's office. I'm well aware of who Charlie is to Vi, but it never mattered. Charlie was never meant to see me anywhere around Vivian Fiori, but when she walked onto the jobsite today, I was the lucky motherfucker she bumped into, as I was at the reception desk hanging the light-up Blush logo. When I turned around and our eyes locked, there was an unspoken acknowledgment that she knew exactly who I was.

It was obvious running into me here caught her off guard; I was the last person she thought she'd run into, and it only got worse when I walked her back to Vi's office. Charlie didn't miss how I took Vi's breath away by showing my face. We've always had chemistry; the only person who refused to acknowledge it was Vi. But ever since we crossed the line, our shared connection has become undeniable. She wants me just as much as I want her, and that's why I interrupted the meeting.

It's Charlie's job to keep my true identity under wraps, but after she witnessed our connection, I have no doubt Charlie spilled my secrets, contract or not. Vi means more to her, and I don't want to lose her, not when I've come this far. I refuse to let someone else give my truth. If she's going to find out about me, she's going to hear it from my mouth. I will show her exactly who I am and hope it's enough.

Barging into Vi's office, I open the door and say, "Ready for lunch?"

Her eyes flash to her computer screen before she mocks back, "It's only 10:30am."

"I'm well aware of the time, Vivian." I use her full name, which I never do, to underscore my seriousness. I told her I would be coming back in thirty minutes. Fuck it. I march into the office and quickly swipe her phone off her desk.

"Hey, give that back," she demands.

But I shove the phone in my pocket and head toward the door. "Let's go."

* * *

"We've been driving for thirty minutes. You realize we only get an hour for lunch, right?"

The ride thus far has been cloaked in silence, and if I thought there was any question as to whether or not Charlie spilled the beans about my true identity, there isn't now. I'm just unsure of how Vi feels about it. I haven't been able to get a read on her, and I don't know if that's because my mind is going over every possible negative outcome or if it's because it doesn't change anything for her. Either way, she's getting my truth.

Pulling off the highway, I take the exit toward my old house, the one I grew up in, at least until age fifteen. I haven't been back here in years, refusing to let myself feel anything, but as the familiar streets flash by, anger slowly starts to rise to the surface.

"Don't pretend with me, Vi. I'm well aware that you know who I am. I'm certain the friend card vetoed the NDA I signed with Croft Tech, but whatever. Who I am or who I was won't matter much longer anyway. I'm all in, Vi." I pause, momentarily taking my eyes off the road to meet hers before adding, "So I figured I'd show you myself."

"All I have is a name, Tate. She didn't give me anything else aside from her own thoughts."

I press my lips together to hold my tongue. It's not Vi's fault I'm upset. I'm not sure what bothers me more: the fact that the truth is coming out or hearing her verbal confirmation that the contract I paid good money for was breached. Croft Tech is one of the biggest security companies in the United States, not just for their groundbreaking spy tech, but for their Ghost software. Ghost can make a person disappear without a trace and create new identities with intact histories undetected by any other program. If someone were to run a background check on me or look into my past, Tatum Carroway would have a solid, ordinary life with no red flags. That's what Ghost did for my sister and me—until Charlie decided to give Vi a name.

Before my brain can compute the rest of what she said about Charlie sharing her own thoughts, we're pulling down the street I grew up on, and any fucks concerning what Charlie may have had to say about me go out the window.

"I grew up here," I say as we slowly make our way down the street that dead-ends into the cul-de-sac I used to call home.

"Why are you bringing me here, Tate?" she asks as she closely examines each house we pass, letting me know that, while she might be confused and slightly annoyed, she's also intrigued. A part of her wants to know, and that's all I need. I only need a piece.

"Because I won't allow someone else to tell you about my life. I'm aware of what Charlie knows, but it's not the whole story."

As we reach the end of the street, the three-bedroom, two-car garage and white stucco ranch house with gray shutters comes into view. The hedges are overgrown, the windows are boarded up, and I'm sure the inside is now uninhabitable after years of people breaking and entering, pillaging, and vandalizing the property.

"This is the house I grew up in," I say as I pull into the driveway and drift back to a time when it was mine. When it was home. She doesn't say anything as she looks on with wide eyes, examining the property in its current state, but she doesn't need to. It's clear that what was once here is gone. It's up to me to tell her about it.

"It may not look like it now, but I had a good life here with wonderful parents and a loving sister, until suddenly, that was all taken from me. After the accident, my sister and I were put into foster care since we had no next of kin. We bounced around from house to house for years, no one wanting to keep us too long because of Chelsea's health issues. They were willing to keep me, but not her. I refused to be separated. I was all she had left."

I stay silent as I remember the many houses we stayed in. Most were friendly enough and so helpful, at least in the beginning. They saw two kids who'd had their lives uprooted and tragically lost their parents, but the more time passed, the older we got, and the novelty of our story wore off. We became a paycheck. My hand grips the steering wheel a little tighter from the hurt that grabs my heart when I think about my sister and the pain she suffered. She was so young, only eight years old.

"Will you tell me?" Vi asks softly as she stares at the house.

"Chelsea and I were in the crash that killed our parents. Our dad was ejected from the car and hit by an oncoming vehicle. He died instantly. My mother and I were on the side of the impact. The front took the majority of the hit. She was crushed. They had to use the jaws of life to free her, but it was too late by the time they got her out. She bled out on the scene from her injuries. I sustained a concussion and received multiple lacerations from the glass, while Chelsea walked away seemingly unharmed, aside from the mental scars surviving a life-altering crash leaves behind."

"Oh my god, Tate, I'm so sorry. That's fucking terrible; I can't even begin to wrap my mind around the trauma and loss you endured."

She reaches for my hand resting on the center console, and I let her take it. A part of me is dying for it, not just because it's Vi, but because I've spent years living this nightmare alone. Sure, I have Chelsea, but I don't dare bring up the accident for fear of worsening her trauma. She doesn't need to relive the pain and loss with me when I already know it steals her sleep and every other waking moment.

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