Chapter 73: SILENT AFTERMATH
Arianna
Tucking my legs in the leather passenger seat of the car I was sitting, I brought the big jacket closer around my shoulders to burrow in its warmth and familiar scent, all the energy gone after the night incidents, still fresh in my mind. At least , it offered a meager shield against the lingering chill and the stark reality of the night.
Passing out after Vincent railed me on top of that desk wasn’t in my plans when I opened my eyes, seeing myself in the car, feeling sore all over. The raw power of Vincent’s thrusts…it was all a blur now, dissolving into a hazy memory.
In a need of a shower, body aching in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant, I rubbed the sleep grit from my eyes to look around for Vincent because he wasn’t in the car with me, the driver’s seat was empty but then I noticed him outside, talking with his men while smoking a cigarette, a plume of white smoke curling into the pre-dawn air.
He had brought me to his car while I slept and even covered me with his jacket so I can rest, safely but it means I missed everything what transpired in the warehouse afterwards. I’ve slept through the aftermath. The clean-up. The inevitable disposal of loose ends. Obviously, he didn’t let anyone live and made one of his men take the bodies so no one finds them.
I let out a sigh and watched him through the window glass, my gaze lingering on him, admiring his side profile. The sharp angles of his features , the controlled movements of his hands as he brought the cigarette to his lips while chatting in low hushed tones.
He was wearing a different outfit from the one he was wearing at the club. Less polished, more primal. Black T-shirt stretched taut across his muscular body, showcasing the intricate ink that snaked across his arms. Dark slacks, practical and unforgiving, giving him a warm casual look than usual. The cap hid most of his hair, giving him an almost boyish look, if you ignore the predatory glint in his eyes.
Another drag, another plume of smoke. At least, he was considerate enough to do it outside of the car, knowing I hate the smell of cigarettes. Small mercies.
We really needed to talk about everything what happened between us and the bloodlust that simmered beneath his charming exterior. About the casual way he extinguished lives.
I was in love with a monster. Devil, to be precise.
The thought, as terrifying as it was, held a strange, undeniable pull.
Like sensing my gaze, his head snapped up. Those golden eyes, sharp and assessing, met mine through the glass. Holding my gaze for a beat, the ember of his cigarette flared briefly with the last drag before he dropped it, grinding it under the heel of his boot.
A curt nod to his men, a few murmured words, as they dispersed, disappearing into the early morning gloom in their sleek, dark vehicles, he made his way back to the car.
My stomach tightened.
The driver’s side door opened, letting in a rush of cold air that prickled against the bare skin of my legs. One long leg slid into the car, then the other, a fluid, almost feline movement. He settled into the seat, the faint scent of smoke and citrus, his signature cologne, filling the air between us. A familiar comfort, a dangerous allure.
The solace in that fragrance made my head spin with dizziness as I rested my head against the headrest, staring at him with a confusing mix of relief and apprehension swirling within me.
Vincent turned to face me, his gaze sweeping over my face with unreadable expression. Then, a slow, deliberate smile curved his lips. He leaned closer, his dark eyelashes framing the gold of his eyes as he lowered his head to my level. A calloused finger hooked under my chin, tilting my face up, his thumb softly brushing my lower lip.
“Hey,” my voice was a husky whisper.
Grazing my lips, his finger slowly traced the curve of my cheek in soft strokes to observe my reaction to him. It didn’t disappoint. The goosebumps ascended from his touch alone. With a wider grin, he leaned to place a chaste kiss on my lips.
“Hey, yourself, sleepyhead,” licking my lips which parted for him willingly, I let him kiss me awake, his gaze lingering on mine.
“What time is it?” I asked when we pulled apart, the remnants of sleep still clinging to me.
“Four in the morning. I finished about thirty minutes ago. Someone slept for two solid hours,unfortunately,” a low chuckle rumbled in his chest.
I couldn’t help but pout,” It was you who wore me out. I didn’t even remember falling asleep,” still groggy with sleepiness, Vincent merely shrugged but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Something hidden.
I sensed that he was hiding something, a nagging suspicion tugged at the edges of my mind.
“You didn’t drug me, did you?” The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken accusations.
He bit back a smile, leaning back against his seat to swipe a palm across his face when he regards me with blatant amusement, not hiding his mischievous smile at the end,” And what will you do if I did?”
I gape at him,” You didn’t.”
The realization hit me like a physical blow. So I was right.
A slow smirk spread across his face,” Nothing gets past you, I’m afraid. No wonder you’re it for me.”
A surge of anger mixed with hurt coursed through me. I struggled to keep my voice even,” How? When? I didn’t even notice.”
Shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, he drummed a silent rhythm on the steering wheel,” I slipped a small pill in your mouth when you were…otherwise occupied. Right at the verge of losing your breath. Nothing strong. Just a sleeping sedative to help you sleep, relax while I finish my business. Couldn’t have you distracting me because I wouldn’t focus with you there. You know how it is, baby. You drive me absolutely insane,” sighing, like it is all my fault, I watch him remove his cap to run his hand through his dark, tousled hair, and for a moment, the anger faltered, replaced by a familiar flutter in my stomach.
My body was betraying me, remembering the pleasure I derived from him despite the outrage.