Page 105 of Wilde and Untamed
The alcohol hit his empty stomach like napalm, but the pain was welcome. Better than thinking about the look on Uncle Cam’s face when Davey had explained what happened in Antarctica. Better than remembering the way Cade had stood with those Praetorian bastards, choosing them over his own family.
“That whiskey should be a crime.”
The voice slid over him like silk, and Dom froze, glass halfway to his lips. He knew that sun-warmed sweet-tea voice. Had dreamed about it more times than he cared to admit.
He turned, and there she was.
Vivianna Cavalier.
Time seemed to slow as his eyes tracked over her—flowing blond hair cascading past her shoulders, those piercing green eyes that had always seen right through his bullshit, lips painted the color of sin. She wore something black and tight that hugged every curve, making his mouth go dry despite the whiskey.
“Vivi,” he managed, the nickname slipping out before he could stop it.
One perfect eyebrow arched. “You don’t get to call me that anymore, Dominic.” She motioned to the male bartender, who appeared instantly—funny how men always materialized when Vivianna wanted something. “Two Blanton’s. Neat.”
Dom watched her hands as she placed cash on the bar. No rings. Not that it mattered. Not that he cared.
“What are you doing here, Vivi?” He drained the rest of his mediocre whiskey, welcoming the burn.
“Same as you, I imagine.” She accepted the drinks from the bartender, sliding one toward him. “Trying to forget.”
Their fingers brushed as he took the glass, and the contact sent a jolt through him that had nothing to do with the whiskey and everything to do with memories he’d tried to bury. Nights tangled in sheets, her taste on his tongue, the way she’d say his name when he was inside her.
Jesus.
Vivianna Cavalier was trouble in a designer dress—the kind of woman who could smile while she slipped a knife between your ribs. Getting involved with her again would be the definition of stupid, and not only because she was his best friend’s little sister.
But his body was already reacting to her closeness, because despite everything—despite the lies, the betrayal, the way she’d completely vanished from his life until a couple months ago—he’d never been able to forget her. She was the itch he couldn’t scratch, the question that had no answer, the one woman who’dever made him feel like he was drowning and flying at the same time.
He adjusted himself to hide the fact that just the scent of her made him hard and took a sip of the Blanton’s. It was smoother than what he’d been drinking, caramel and vanilla with a hint of spice. “And, do tell, what world-shatteringly awful thing does a fashion designer have to forget? A plaid fedora? A cow print sweatsuit?”
Vivianna’s laugh was low and humorless. “No. I’m trying to forget a traitor who stole designs from my upcoming collection and sold them to a competitor.” She sipped her whiskey, leaving a perfect crimson imprint on the glass. “My entire spring line is compromised.”
Dom knew he should sympathize, but he couldn’t help the bitter laugh that escaped him. “At least your traitor didn’t join a paramilitary organization bent on world domination.”
Her eyes softened slightly. “Sabin told me about Cade.”
Of course, he had. The Cavalier siblings didn’t have secrets.
“For what it’s worth…” She reached out and brushed her fingers over the back of his hand. “I’m sorry. I know it hurts you.”
“I don’t want to talk about Cade.” He turned the glass in his hand, watching the amber liquid catch the pulsing lights.
“Good.” She leaned closer, her perfume wrapping around him—jasmine and something darker that woke all the primal parts of him. “Because I didn’t come over here and buy you a drink to talk about your cousin.”
Heat pooled low in his belly. “So why did you buy me a drink?”
“I saw you from across the room.” Her eyes held his, unflinching. “I could have walked away.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.” Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “I didn’t. You look good, Dom.”
“You look better.” The words came out rough, scraped raw with want.
She laughed, the sound hitting him like a physical touch. “Always the charmer.”
“Only with you.” And it was true. He could charm anyone when he needed to—it was part of the job—but with Vivi, the lines between truth and performance had always blurred.
