Redemption (Vincent and Eve #3)

by Jessica Ruben

  Friday: See a movie with the girl who lives across the hall

  Saturday: Go to a frat house with a new friend and drink a beer

  By the way—the weather sucks in New York.

  Love ya!

  I sob hysterically as I put my clothes back on over my damp skin and head home in a daze. Another girl may be afraid of walking unaccompanied in darkness, but I’ve been through worse. And I’m not afraid of death.

  The next morning, I wake determined to follow Janelle’s orders. I’m not sure if I could ever fall out of love with Vincent, but maybe I can find someone or something to help lessen the pain.

  That night, I kiss a stranger at a party; it feels awkward. It’s my attempt at assuming the ritual of a typical college girl. The girls in my dorm do this all the time, and they seem to be carefree and without troubles, lighthearted and living a life where nothing is taken too seriously. A hookup gone wrong is hilarious. Sex with someone’s boyfriend is due to drunkenness. Life is simple.

  The clock ticks and time passes. Who am I?

  It’s Friday night. I walk into a party on campus with my friends when I see a man. He’s tall and dark. Built. “Who’s that?” I ask Molly, my neighbor in the dorms.

  “That’s James Dogman. He’s the lacrosse captain.” She bobs her head up and down. “Crazy hot, right?”

  I don’t respond.

  Physically, he resembles Vincent more than anyone else I’d ever seen. My traitorous body hums. I feel disloyal. Still, I’m dying to feel an emotion other than emptiness.

  He catches my stare and smiles, a deep dimple forming in his left cheek. He pushes through the crowd, seemingly to get to me. This man is bigger than everyone else by at least five inches. He takes my hand, knowingly, and walks us to the staircase. It’s quieter here. He makes a joke and I laugh. He asks about my major. I tell him pre-law. He asks for my number and I give it. He tells me to take his too, and I say, “Okay.”

  “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous.” His voice isn’t deep like Vincent’s.

  He moves his hand to touch my hair and I quickly tie it back in a low ponytail. He looks at me funny, but I smile like it’s nothing.

  The lights are off. I’m burying myself into his wide muscled chest. His smell, a fancy and sharp cologne, is all wrong. I look into his dark brown eyes, searching for a connection. But all I find is a stare as empty as my heart.

  I leave before he wakes, shaking with stress as I dress and telling myself that it will be better next time.

  The following week, he asks me to his game. I watch him from the stands with friends, doing my best to have fun. We draw hearts on our faces in the school’s colors, posing for photos and taking selfies. But it’s all a ruse. Turns out, I’m good at faking it. Weeks pass, and he notices nothing.

  A month goes by. Everyone tells me I’m so lucky. I internally shrink.

  Another night. Movies and chill. James is above me, but my mind starts playing tricks. It’s James, and then it’s Carlos. Naked and sweating, pushing against me. Hurting me. Tattooed teardrops down his wild eyes. I’m too afraid to scream.

  With a burst of energy, I push all two-hundred-some pounds of man off me. Jumping out of his bed, I trip over my own feet as I dress in panic. Underwear. Jeans. Bra. Tank top. My heart—it may explode. I hear static. Running down the steps of his off-campus house, I sprint to my dorm, sweat pouring down my face. I go straight into the shower, turning the dial to scalding. I drop on the tiled floor, clothed and crying.

  I finally get back to my room and dial Janelle. I’m shivering.

  “Eve, please speak with a therapist. You still have so much unresolved shit, and it’s all catching up.”

  I hang up.

  I need to move on again and find a new set of friends. Still, I want to try to live. I want to be happy. James keeps calling, but I avoid him.

  Vincent invades my dreams. I hate that I can’t let him go. All I want is to forget him! But he plagues me.

  Vincent’s hands...Vincent’s eyes...Vincent’s voice.

  “You’re young,” Janelle reminds me the following day over the phone. “You’ll find a new man again; I swear it.”

  “Angelo sent me care packages of expensive clothes and makeup. He even sent me a fancy coffee maker. Do you think he’s doing all of this because he feels guilty about lying?” I lift up a gorgeous pair of J Brand jeans as I hold the phone between my ear and shoulder. “Maybe all this stuff is his form of apology.”

  “No, Eve,” she insists angrily. “It’s because he wants you comfortable. Why is that so hard to imagine? Angelo loves you. That’s why he sends you stuff.”

  I need to believe her. But deep down, I don’t. “You’re right. I’m being crazy.”

  A few weeks later, I’m hanging out with my new friends, who are interested in philosophy and being “deep.” They all grew up in cushy households but love to talk about the “struggle,” as if they’d been there. We get high on Mexican marijuana while sitting on five-thousand-dollar couches and discussing the merits of higher tax rates for the rich. I stay quiet, leaning on a beautiful silk pillow. Missy told me earlier that it’s Armani home. I’ll need to look that up.

  I take a sip of my fancy imported beer, reminding myself that I’m lucky. I have a life. I’m not lying in a ditch in the Blue Houses or floating in the Hudson River.

  Life goes on in a rhythm of classes and parties. A year passes by. And another. And slowly, the ache for Vincent starts to numb. The want and the need—that never leaves. But the heaviness in my heart is lessening. It’s almost as though my body went through an unconscious healing process where all emotion was crushed out of my body. I’m harder now, but at least I’m not crumbling.

  A car honks its horn and I’m brought back to the moment. “I’m not a kid anymore. I’m a woman now,” I exclaim into the empty car, slamming the steering wheel with the palm of my hand.

  The me of seven years ago would be out of my mind with this new information. The old me would be wracked with tremors with her head in the toilet, vomiting from the stress. But the me of today is able to rise above the pain. Maybe it isn’t Vincent behind this deal. And if it is? I wouldn’t be the first person to work with an ex-boyfriend. I’ll just figure it out, like I have everything else in my life. I will not allow this problem to become me. It’s simply just an event in my life and I will deal with it as such.

  I have a job that pays more money than I ever dreamed, a nice boyfriend, who may not give me toe-curling sex, but it’s still good enough. I even have an apartment, which I bought all on my own. I shut my eyes, focusing on the feeling of relief and safety. When I’m centered, I pull back into traffic and resume the drive to my apartment.

  Friday morning comes faster than I’d hoped. I go through my usual morning routine of a hot cup of coffee at six o’clock while skimming the news headlines on my phone. After my three-mile treadmill run, I take a hot shower followed by a quick blow-dry of my hair. My tan skirt-suit is impeccably tailored and I know I look both professional and stylish. After securing my hair in a tight and sleek bun, I apply Bobby Brown tinted moisturizer all over my face, NARS concealer under my eyes, and Two-Faced bronzer beneath the hollow of my cheekbones. Work at the firm is a battle, and my hair, makeup, and clothes are my shields.

  The entire office is buzzing when I walk in, the possibility of landing the Milestone is obviously generating excitement. Lauren and I make eye contact as she jumps up from her desk.

  Walking a step behind me, she starts without any preamble. “The meeting has been shifted to nine thirty.”

  My head is down, eyes glued to my phone as she hands me a cup of coffee. I put out my right hand to take it from her. “Did you get the file for Bearwoods Resort?”

  Lauren has a friend at the firm, Scranton and Arps, who did work on another casino complex on Native American lands. I knew it would be a big help for me to review a development that is comparable to the Milestone.

  “Yup. It’s on your chair. Everything
that’s not confidential.” I look up as she winks, letting me know with no uncertain terms that the entire file is there, confidentiality be damned. It’s a dog-eat-dog world I work in, but as Jonathan always says: If you don’t play, you can’t stay.

  I finally take a seat at my desk and Lauren hands me my protein bar before quickly leaving the room. I always need quiet before a big client comes in; silence helps me focus.

  I take a sip of coffee before shutting my eyes. Leaning my elbows on my desk and massaging my temples with my fingertips, I repeat: It’s just a client. I can handle it.

  My door swings open. It’s Lauren.

  “Oh my God!” she exclaims. “I know I shouldn’t be in here when you’re doing your mind focus or whatever, but holy shit!” She leans against the door, fanning herself with two hands. I take a deep inhale through my nose. It’s him. The blood in my veins turns cold as I swallow the bile rising in my throat.

  “The man outside. Holy hell!” She practically skips to my desk in excitement. “You know those guys that are all dirty and rough? Like, he looks like he probably smokes a pack a day for breakfast, fucks you ten ways by lunch, and works hard labor under the sun?”

  “Jesus, Lauren. You’re out of your mind.” I let out a shaky laugh.

  “Oh, come on. You know what I mean. The guy out there for the Milestone. He’s like, dark and brooding. Like he hasn’t shaved in a week because he’s too cool to care. His sleeves are rolled up and his forearms are all corded muscle and all these black tribal tattoos! And not like these hipsters. He looks like the real deal. I’m equal parts turned on and scared right now. I bet his dick is like, a foot long. So hot!”

  “When’s your romance novel coming out Lauren Love Joy?”

  She puts a hand on her slim hip. “Oh, please. When you see him, you’ll understand. Trust me on this, Eve. He’s the kind of hot that any straight breathing woman can appreciate.” She’s absolutely giddy.

  Before I can speak, my door reopens. It’s Jonathan in a perfectly tailored navy suit with his lucky blue silk tie. “Hey sweetheart, it’s show time,” he exclaims.

  Jonathan loves this part; wheeling, dealing, and finessing are his specialties. I remind myself to calm down. It doesn’t matter if Vincent is here. This is my life’s work, and nothing he can do will take this away from me.

  Entering the conference room, I smile at Jonathan and the rest of the real estate team, who sit facing the door. I stand tall, channeling serious and sophisticated attorney. It’s a role I can play. Before I round the table to take my seat next, Jonathan pipes up.

  “Eve, before we begin, can you get all of us coffees please?” His voice is my command.

  I turn on my heel and run into the kitchen, willing my heart to slow down as I pour the coffee into the carafe. Re-entering the room, I do my best not to trip. Even though I see the DBC chuckle to each other, because apparently me carrying their coffee never stops being funny, I keep my back straight and pretend I don’t notice.

  Jonathan already set my legal pad in front of my chair. I take my seat and immediately drop my head to review my notes.

  A throat clears and my head pops up. My eyes practically bug out of my skull and a soundless gasp comes flying from my mouth. Gone is any resemblance to the man I knew. The lower half of his face is covered in dark scruff; if not for his sharp cheekbones and eyes, he’d be unrecognizable.

  As his deep and soulful stare bores into mine, I know he hasn’t changed much at all. All at once, I’m that innocent girl again. Small pieces of me that have been dormant for years vibrate in my chest. With just one look, Vincent moves me. He’s coarser but still utterly gorgeous. There’s a hardness about him now, which wasn’t there before. Clearly, prison changed him. But I guess I’ve changed, too. Can he see me?

  Jonathan clears his throat. “Vincent, this is Eve. She’s an attorney on our team.” Vincent leans forward and we each put out our hands to shake. The moment he takes my hand, a spark of an electrical charge surges through my body before simmering into a warm and slow buzz. A few seconds pass and my palm is still encased in his; he isn’t letting me go.

  Nervously, I wriggle my hand free. Sitting back in my seat, I feel like crying. Anger boils up on sadness’s heels.

  I can’t believe he has the audacity to show up at my work. I harden like I’ve trained myself to do. A shadow crosses his face as he realizes I’m closing myself off from him. I want to stomp my feet and scream, “I’m not a naïve little girl living in the projects! I’m not the girl you knew.”

  Jonathan continues to introduce Vincent to the rest of the team. “Vincent is the man behind what will be the most incredible hotel and casino complex in the country. It’s really an honor to meet you.” Jonathan is in full kiss-ass mode.

  Vincent lifts a hand politely in thanks before casually resting one foot on his opposite knee. Raw masculinity drips from his pores while his eyes are savagely trained on me. As if he’s able to control me with only a heated look, my entire body floods back to life. I cross my legs tightly, telling the pulsing ache in my lower body to stop. But of course, the little traitor doesn’t listen.

  For years now, I just assumed I wasn’t a sexual person. I chalked up my time with Vincent as adolescent excitement, figuring adult relationships don’t have that kind of heat. Wild attraction is for kids, not adults with mortgages.

  And now, with one look at Vincent, my blood stirs straight into my core, abruptly waking up my sexuality without consent.

  I’m snapped out of my trance as Jonathan speaks. “Eve. Offer him a drink.” I stand.

  Vincent squints as if confused, turning his dark gaze to Jonathan. “Didn’t you just tell me she’s one of the attorneys here?”

  Jonathan smirks. “Yes, but she helps us out too from time to time. You know how it is.” He laughs jokingly. His implication that I do more than work as an attorney is obvious, and I cringe.

  Vincent’s face turns to ice, his eyes darkening. Oh shit.

  “No, I’m not sure what you mean. You want to elaborate?” His glacial eyes focus on Jonathan and it’s as if the whole room stopped breathing.

  Most of the time when Jonathan makes these comments, the businessmen laugh. It becomes a boy’s club, and I’m the woman on the outs. I’d never do anything sexual to get my way, but apparently, just the joke is enough to bond them. I have to work harder than everyone else to prove I’m more than what they see. It’s a vicious cycle, but what choice do I have? I try to show the clients I’m highly qualified via my strong work ethic, but it’s difficult to get respect when Jonathan and the DBC make underhanded and subversive comments meant to disparage. I’m certain, though, I’ll prove myself to all of them—eventually. I have to.

  When Vincent decides Jonathan looks scared enough, he rises from his seat. Jonathan is straight-up terrified; I see the sweat beading on his forehead. He isn’t sure if Vincent is about to kick him in the face or leave the office. Knowing Jonathan, he’d rather take a beating than lose this deal. Instead, Vincent moves swiftly to the console, pouring two coffees. One is black, but he adds milk and a spoon of sugar in the second. It’s exactly the way I used to drink my coffee—and still do. He places the cup in front of me, making sure not to spill a drop.

  “For you,” he whispers, looking into my eyes. I feel lightheaded as he takes his seat.

  Moving along like nothing is amiss, Jonathan continues with a smile, adjusting his tie self-consciously. “Let me introduce the rest of our team.” He clears his throat.

  Pointing to each person one by one, he states their respective title. When he gets to me, I raise my head, but can’t manage to make any eye contact with Vincent; the stress is unbearable.

  “So, you met Eve a few moments ago.” I want to laugh out loud, but thankfully keep it in check. “She has her undergraduate degree from Stanford and JD from Stanford as well. She specializes in real estate transactions.”

  I see Vincent’s face from the corner of my eye, lips twisted into a half smile.


  “I heard about her work from a friend of mine, Colin Vorghese. He told me she’s quickly becoming the best in the field. If I hire you, Eve must work on the Milestone with you.”

  I blink quickly. Did I hear him correctly? “Of course, she will.” Jonathan’s voice has an excited boom. I feel lightheaded. “Eve is fantastic. She’ll be with you the entire way.”

  The eyes of the DBC pop in shock before a few chuckles fill the room.

  I can see the indignation rise in Vincent’s face as understanding dawns as to what these assholes may be thinking. “Yes,” he states firmly. “What she was able to negotiate for Colin was outstanding. He and his wife are close friends of mine, and they both thought Eve’s professionalism, work ethic, and intelligence is rare. I can use any other firm, but Colin insisted she and you, Jonathan, are the best team in the business.” Vincent stares at Jonathan before glaring at the other attorneys, daring them to say otherwise.

  “I’m glad Colin was happy. Keeping clients satisfied is what we do. So, Vincent.” Jonathan claps his hands together. “Let’s get to it.”

  Vincent sits up, explaining the Milestone, which he calls the Mile for short. He’s in complete control. The room is hyper-focused as he maps out the intricacies of the Tribe and the detailed level of work needed.

  I find myself completely engrossed in the details, taking copious notes and trying to stay calm and cool. Vincent begins to ask probing questions about how our team operates: timetables and friendships with state officials. Jonathan responds easily. He may be an asshole, but he knows his stuff.

  By the end of the hour, my fingers are cramped from note taking and my lower back is damp. One thing is clear: if we get this deal, we’ll be working non-stop for Vincent for a few years at a minimum; the workload is enormous.

  Vincent stands to shake our hands as he readies himself to leave. Again, he takes mine for a second longer than necessary. His scent hits my nose like an aphrodisiac, woodsy and dark and something uniquely him. Everything about this man is like no one and nothing else. He finally lets go, turning to walk out the door with Jonathan at his heels. And just like that, he’s gone.