Page 44 of Sweet Venom

I considered sneaking into the condo while they were at work and burning all her clothes so she would have no choice but to show him what I had done, but I was also set on exposing her for the unfaithful, cheating slut that she is. The woman doesn't want to settle down; she doesn't want a man. She wants a plaything. I have no doubt it's why she agreed to the threesome. Vivian didn't want me. She wanted my cock, and if it's not mine, it will be someone else’s. That's why I had to fight back my desire to strike.

By Wednesday, I was back to rage. It's funny how truly fleeting the ability to reason can be when you let your emotions get involved. When I covered Vivian in my marks, my intent was to ensure she couldn't hide. There would be no mistake of where I had been, but on the third day of not seeing them, my blood started to boil for more reasons than one. I needed Ellis to see them, and she was intent on hiding them from him. The woman is a viper. She's not ashamed of any part of her body; she has no reason to be, and because I know she likes a little pain, I know, were it not for him, she'd be wearing those marks, my marks, confidently.

But as I watched her put her helmet on and check her bike before mounting it at 5am, while it was still dark, a pair of headlights flicking on a block over caught my eye. I couldn't tell you why. All I know is that they did. They stole my attention and changed the entire trajectory of my plans. I had no idea how full-circle things would come from one set of headlights.

I've known all along there is more to Vivian Fiori than meets the eye. She's a venomous snake, lurking in the shadows, waiting for her next unsuspecting victim to strike. I shelved my duties to follow her every fucking move, determined to once and for all prove her disloyalty to Ellis and reveal her true nature, and I fucking struck gold. I came back to San Jose for one purpose, and wouldn't you know who I find at the center of it all, Vivian Fiori.

I knew Sayward was behind the robberies but couldn't prove it. It wasn't until Vivian pulled her little stunt that I finally caught her on camera, but that wasn't enough. I needed her accomplice, or it would just end up being another club girl helping whoever was organizing the hits behind the scenes steal our money. I followed Sayward and never found her with anyone until finally, I started following Vivian and discovered I'd been trailing the wrong person all along.

Vivian had a tail in the form of one Tatum fucking Carroway. I knew they were friends. I'd seen her having coffee with him the other day at Roasters. Of course, I didn't fucking like it. She shouldn't be parading around with other men when she's living under my brother's roof and riding his cock. But as I watched him, I got a new outlook on their perceived friendship. You see, there's a difference between casually striking up a conversation and becoming friends versus forced proximity. The longer I watched, the more I was convinced their friendship was anything but coincidental. No, Tatum Carroway made sure he was in her orbit.

I watched as he followed her to Santa Cruz, where I have no doubt she decided to workout so that her odds of being seen were less likely. Vivian would workout naked if she could. She's the girl at the gym wearing a sports bra and spandex shorts, highlighting every fucking curve of her perfect ass. So, it's no surprise she wanted to get away, where she could de-robe without knowing eyes catching sight of her. Little did she know, two sets were lurking in the shadows.

The second she pulled her joggers off and removed her long-sleeve tee, Tatum all but went into full beast mode. I watched as he kicked over a trash can and paced the side of his Jeep before climbing back in and pounding the steering wheel. The man was clearly torn between going to her side and maintaining his cover. While he looked on in horror, my cock twitched with delight. A dark place in my soul enjoyed knowing that she couldn't help but think of me every time she looked in the fucking mirror.

Tatum didn't follow her onto the trails that day, which surprised me. I thought for sure the fucker might get some hair-brained idea to 'accidentally' run into her while she was on her jog, unable to help himself, but he didn't, at least not until the end. By the time she was done with her jog, the tank top she wore under her long-sleeve was draped around her neck, putting even more of her beautifully marred skin on display as she walked to the beach with her hands placed atop her head. I watched as Tate exited his car and stomped down to the sand after her. His fervor had me stepping out of my own car just in case he couldn't control himself, but he pussed out at the last fucking minute. He was only feet behind her when he bee-lined for the lifeguard stand, ensuring she didn't see him.

I have to give it to him, though. He's always around, always watching, and she has no fucking idea—but he's starting to get reckless. That sixth sense is beginning to kick in for her because seconds after he veered off, her head snapped back, and she scanned the crowd for long moments, searching to find a familiar face or something that would answer for the goosebumps I'm sure were pricking her sweet skin. It didn't take long for that unease to settle over her and steal whatever peace she had momentarily found staring out over the ocean.

Little did I know that what would come next would steal my own peace.

The next fucking day, I'd get answers to questions I've been asking for months. The web of lies and deception that was spun would quickly unravel. I just didn't know how epically fucked I would be. I never planned on hurting my brother, but now I'm not sure it can be avoided. All it took was one afternoon and one lunch for me to learn the true identity of the man who brought me back to San Jose to begin with. There was no way that the roads he took and the house he stopped at were a coincidence. Tatum Carroway is Carter Manolas.

That discovery shook me to my core. As I continued to follow them that afternoon, I couldn't determine if all of this was a happenstance or an orchestrated hit. It didn't make sense that he would take Vivian to all these places. I couldn't hear what words were being shared. There was no way of telling if he was spinning more lies or giving her truths. I stayed the course and followed them everywhere, even when I didn't want to. It took every ounce of my self-control not to run into that little shithole of a Chinese food restaurant when I saw them kissing and call her out. She was openly making out with another man while dating my brother, and not just any man, but the one stealing our money and maybe even more. But I was determined to see this through. Lurking in the shadows got me further than posturing in the light ever had. You learn so much more when people think no one is watching.

That afternoon, after Tate dropped Vivian off at work, he didn't return, and because I knew where she was, I decided to follow him, and wouldn't you know where he went: Sayward Grace’s place. It’s why I chose to attend the anniversary party tonight. I knew she’d be here, and because he hasn’t left her side since Wednesday, the odds were good something was about to go down, and fuck if I wasn't going to be the one delivering the blows.

I planned on trying to keep the night as civil as possible. The dirty truth would hurt enough. No one will walk away unscathed. That's why I brought a date. Marni is my go-to fuck buddy. She's always down for a good time and knows what I like. Is it a dick move? Maybe. But I've never claimed not to be one, and I wanted to send a message, one I know Vivian received loud and clear when she caught me at the bar with my arm wrapped around Marni. She means nothing; our fucking meant nothing, and there will not be a repeat. But I hadn't planned on the jealous rage that would slither up my spine and wrap around my cold heart from just one look.

As I watched her walk away with indifference written all across her pretty face, I knew we would have words. There was no way I'd allow her not to feel anything. Not when I felt everything. So, when she stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes pinned on one couple, I made my move. I couldn't help myself. I had to taunt her, to give her a dose of her own medicine. Her body went stiff, and if eyes could speak, hers would have screamed. At that moment, when she saw Tatum Carroway with his arm wrapped around another woman, she knew she had been played, and I wasn't going to let her sulk in silence. No, I was going to twist the damn knife.

It's that fucking selfish, impulsive anger that landed me with a swollen lip and a semi-bruised ego. Too laser-focused on hurting Vivian, I didn't account for my brother appearing out of nowhere, landing a right hook straight to my jaw. One I'm sure he believes I deserve. Two of our cousins who work security at the club had to swoop in and separate us. I walked out front to cool off and take a minute to collect myself because if I didn't, I'd air his dirty laundry in front of all our guests, and while I might be a dick, he's not my intended target. Fuck.

When I returned to the backyard, I'd lost them. There was no sign of Tatum, Sayward, Ellis or Vivian. Were it not for the club being closed tonight for the anniversary party, I would have left to trail Tatum. He has an agenda. There has to be a reason why, after all this time, he's finally showing his hand. It's why I can't leave. I need to talk to Ellis tonight, regardless of the outcome.

I make my way up the steps to the house, sure I'll find him inside. There's no way he left his own party. If anything, he's licking his wounds like me. I know I got one hit in before Vinny pulled me back. I find him standing in the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of whiskey over ice—something he never does—and no sooner does he take his first drink, than his eyes catch mine. He's pissed. Great.

"I fucking know, Sebastian. I'm done playing this game with you."

My eyebrows rise of their own accord. Those were not the words I was expecting out of his mouth. As I slowly reach the island, I ask, "What exactly do you know, Ellis?"

I clench my fist and dig my nails in to remind myself there's no way he knows what I know. This is something else.

"I know about the costume party at Club Social. I know you saw her first."

My eyes stay locked on his in a war of wills. I'm determined not to give him a reaction, not on this. This is the last thing I ever cared to discuss. When I don’t make a move to speak, he adds, “I know you searched for her for two weeks after that night, only to find her in my bed."

Coming around the island, I grab the whiskey bottle and a glass before saying, "It doesn't fucking matter. What's done is done."

"It does matter; you loved her first."

That couldn't be further from the truth. I throw back two fingers of whiskey as the memory of the first night I met Vivian Fiori replays in my mind.

Sitting alone at the bar was one of the prettiest women I'd ever seen, dressed like a snake. Her tight little body was wrapped in a black leather corset suit with a see-through sarong wrapped around her waist and silver snake cuffs that wrapped up her arms. Her costume left little to the imagination. The corset was so tight, her tits were practically falling out. But it was the four-inch heels with straps that wrapped all the way up to her toned thick thighs that had me hard. She looked fucking edible. Her long, dark brown hair flowed down her back in loose curls, resting just above her plump ass that men easily stole glances of all night.

When the bartender turned his back, she reached across the bar top to steal cherries from the garnish caddy. I watched as one sorry fuck after another would step up and try to shoot their shot, only to fail miserably. The irony of her costume was not lost on me. It entertained me for a good hour before I decided I had to know her name, and maybe even the story. Why would a woman go to a bar dressed like that, only to turn down every guy that came her way? She clearly wanted attention.

It wasn't until she caught the attention of one of the business associates at my table that I decided to make my move. Our meeting was done. We’d come to the club that night specifically to people watch. It was costume night, and women love a good reason to dress in skimpy ass clothes, so we called it research. We'd been looking to change the outfits the girls wear on the bar level at the club, and what better way than to watch it parade by in real life? You get a better idea of how an outfit will fit when you see it in person rather than on screen. How much a top rides up and shows the underside of a woman's breast or how the shorts bunch up and highlight every curve of her ass when she walks. Those are all things you can't get from a screen. But I was done looking. It was time to find out how a black leather corset felt pressed against my dick.

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