Reckoning (Vincent and Eve #2)

by Jessica Ruben

  Seeing him face to face like this brings it all back in a rush. He’s so intense. I swallow hard. How much time passes with us locked in the bathroom like this, I have no idea. I’m lost to him. All of my pain and anger seems to have gone up in smoke. I want to stay lost in his eyes and simply savor this moment and the way he’s looking at me.

  He keeps his hands on the sides of my face, thumbs gently rubbing my temples. It’s soothing and arousing. I’d clamp my legs together to stop the ache if I could, but his huge body is still between them, not allowing me any movement. I’m melting for this man. And it isn’t the fact that he’s insanely sexy. It’s more. It’s him.

  He wraps his arms around me again, pulling me into his chest for another firm squeeze. “Did you know I was here?”

  I take a deep breath, confused by his implication. Is he saying that I followed him here? To school?

  “What? I didn’t know at first…but I, I saw you…” The truth comes rushing back into the front of my mind. Vincent has a girlfriend. Vincent is Borignone mafia. I physically shrink back from him.

  His eyes change as if he notices the change in my demeanor and isn’t happy about it. “When did you see me?” Lines form on his forehead. Clearly, Vincent isn’t a man who is used to surprises.

  I shrug, trying my best not to sound as broken as I feel. “I saw you with your g-girlfriend in the dining hall.” I wish I were one of those girls who could look him in the eye and dare him to lie to my face. Instead, my voice comes out sounding insecure and small. I drop my eyes to the floor. Even though he’s the liar, I’m the one who is embarrassed. He saw me as a girl who wasn’t worthy to be his. He made me feel as though we had something special, but clearly, I was mistaken.

  He presses his thumb under my chin to lift up my head. “There’s a lot to that, Eve. But, I’m just…” he sighs, tracing my full lips with his finger, stunning me quiet with his gentleness. “I just can’t believe this. I need to explain everything to you, and I promise I will. But, can we just chill tonight?” He lets out a deep breath as I sit, staring at him in confusion. He wants to hang out tonight? What. The. Hell? I stare at him like he’s insane.

  “I know you must be hurt by what you’ve heard.” He has the decency to look down for a moment, but when he lifts them back to meet mine, his dark eyes are full of hope. “Can we just pretend that we’re all good, and trust that I’ll explain it all later? Nothing is as it seems. Trust me.”

  My rational mind is saying no. Actually, it’s screaming “FUCK NO” at the top of its lungs. But my heart is beating with the word “Yes.” He’s here and I can’t believe how much I missed him. I almost forgot how good it felt to be looked at in this way. How could this Vincent I’m staring at be the man in the photos? It just can’t be! The man I’m staring at is warm, loving, and gentle. He saved me from the hands of a madman. He doesn’t gallivant around town with a socialite and then kill people after hours with the mob! I can’t reconcile his sides.

  He seems to sense my hesitancy because before I can make a final decision, he steps forward, hugging me into his chest, essentially making the choice for me. He lifts me back into his arms and gently sets me back on my feet. “I may not deserve this chance. But fuck if I’m not gonna take it.” His voice is rough, and damn my traitorous body, but it melts a little more for him.

  “Wait right at the door. Give me a second, yeah?” I step outside and the door closes. A minute later, I hear the flush of a toilet and the water turn on, as though he’s washing his hands. Finally, he exits. The look of relief on his face that I didn’t leave is evident.

  Taking my hand, his steps are certain and strong as we walk. The crowd of people literally parts as he moves. I’m trailing behind, nervously holding onto his hand, but keeping my head down. We get into the kitchen when he picks me up with something that feels like tenderness, totally at odds with his hard demeanor. He places me on top of the marble counter.

  I move my lips to his ear, whispering, “Why do you keep manhandling me?”

  “Don’t take that away from me,” he whispers back, bending his head so we can continue to speak at eye level. “You know I love it. You’re so tiny and it feels so good to keep you safe.” He moves his gaze from my lips up to my eyes and back down again.

  “But, Vincent, I don’t need—”

  “I know you don’t need. But I want.”

  His dark eyes shine, telling me he sees me. And the truth is, he’s the only one who ever has. He licks his full lips. “God, Eve, you look—” he stops. Raking his hands through his hair, seemingly to gather himself. “Are you happy here? Are you living in the dorms? You have everything you need, right?”

  Instead of replying, I want to ask him some questions of my own. Like, where the hell has he been? And how could he see me when he had a fucking girlfriend? And how did he hide the fact that he’s Vincent Borignone? I internally groan, feeling frustrated. Apparently, I talk a big game. But when push comes to shove, I have no backbone. Why the hell am I sitting here in front of him? If I were Janelle, I would have raged and caused a huge scene. I would make sure that he paid the price for lying to me! Better yet, she would have thrown one of these huge bottles of Vodka at his head. But, I’m not Janelle. And when I’m near Vincent, I lose all rational thought.

  “Breathe,” he says, giving me a crooked grin. “I promise we’ll talk about everything, okay? You didn’t change your mind now about hanging out, have you?” His voice is full of question and I manage to nod my head, albeit reluctantly.

  “Yes. I mean, no, I…I haven’t changed my mind.” I feel my face turning beet red.

  He steps between my legs again, moving his mouth to my ear. “Don’t change.” He grabs a bottle of water from the counter and drinks it down in a swallow. Dropping the empty bottle in the sink, he leans forward on his hands, caging me in. The party may be full, but we may as well be alone. His face is so close to mine that I can feel the energy coursing between us. Right now, it’s no one and nothing other than us. My heart falters as he speaks to me with his eyes. Everything in this moment becomes so simple. I stare at his face, trying to memorize every feature. I can’t believe how much I missed him.

  Tom throws his arm around Vincent and I gasp from the intrusion. “Wake up, brother. You’re at a public party, remember?” Tom laughs, but it seems there’s a hard undercurrent to his words. He’s looking at Vincent with a face that says get the fuck away from her. I turn to Vincent, who is scowling at him.

  After their strange standoff, Vincent moves his face back to mine. “This asshole is always pushing me to come out to these fucking parties. Now that I’m here, he’s unhappy.” He shuffles to the side, shifting an enormous shoulder. For a moment, I remember what he looks like without a shirt on and I feel a throb in my lower belly. Vincent has a body that I’d swear was airbrushed if not for the fact that he’s a living, breathing human and not on a billboard in Times Square. He’s just so…big. Everywhere. I touch my hand to my face and feel it heating up again.

  “Yeah,” Tom replies. “You’re supposed to come out to chill with your girlfriend, right?” He exaggerates the word girlfriend.

  My breath gets clogged in my throat; I feel like reality just came over and bitch-slapped me. It’s obvious Tom isn’t happy that Vincent is talking to me right now. My hands grip the edge of the counter, wanting to jump off and escape when Vincent grabs my thigh with his hand, essentially keeping me frozen to the spot.

  “You’re a funny guy, Tom. Eve here is my friend. You better treat her with some goddamn respect, brother.” He spits out his last word like a curse.

  Tom stares at me hard. “Hello, Eve. Welcome to Columbia University.” With those words, he steps back to Claire. I blink nervously.

  “So, how are your classes going?” Vincent licks the corner of his lips as he leans his side against the counter, ignoring what just happened with Tom. I’m still staring at him dumbly, the stress making my throat immobile. “Ignore him, yeah? I’ll deal with him later
.” I shiver at his words. They’re laced with promise, and not the good kind.

  I press my lips together. “My classes are actually p-pretty good. I like them.”

  I may be crazy about the old Vincent, but I’m not equipped to handle this new one. As if he knows I’m wavering, he places his hands above my knees, bringing me back into his orbit. I suck my stomach in and take a sharp breath; his proximity is intoxicating. “There are a few kinds of kids at school. You’re obviously the first kind.” His words are teasing, but the way his hands are gripping my thighs are anything but.

  “Oh?” My voice squeaks. My entire body is burning up from the heat of his hands and how good it feels to be touched—no—gripped by him.

  He raises his eyebrows, fastening his hold. “You think I don’t know you, Eve?” His heavy hands move slightly higher and my eyes widen. “I know you. I remember every single detail. I know you love the stress and the classes and the assignments. Pop quizzes make you giddy. You’re like, ‘Hell yeah! I did the reading; I’m gonna ace this test with my huge brain!’” He speaks in a high voice, making fun of me. Meanwhile, his hands keep roaming up inch by inch. I feel like I may pass out.

  “Yeah, so what?” I bite the inside of my cheek but can’t stop the laugh that’s beginning to bubble in my chest. The asshole really does know me! I try to cover my face with my hands, but there’s no stopping it. He picks up his hands from my thighs and brings me into his chest to laugh with me. My laughter only intensifies and I try to control myself, the result being a loud snort. He guffaws when he hears it and I want to die of embarrassment.

  Moments later he stops, his face turning serious. It’s as if yesterday I were in his apartment, sleeping next to him in his bed, feeling like I was finally home.

  “Oh, Eve,” he says on an exhale. “You’re probably carrying your books around like a good little nerd. Tell me you wear a backpack! Wait...” he pauses, moving back from me for a moment. “Are you as good in math as you are in English?” As usual, for Vincent, I always want to rise to the occasion. I nod my head yes excitedly, but then die a little inside that I do, in fact, have a backpack. I’m going to go home and throw it into the garbage.

  “Is Vincent laughing? Holy shit, but I never thought I’d see the day!” Tom shakes his head in surprise while Claire’s mouth hangs open.

  “I laugh,” Vincent says, his face like stone. “I just never laugh with you because, well, you aren’t funny.” It’s clear Vincent is still angry over Tom’s words from a few minutes ago.

  “I am funny as hell. Claire, tell him how funny I’ve been tonight.”

  “You’re hilarious,” she deadpans, rolling her eyes as if he is the most unfunny guy she’s ever met. Her eyes then move to mine, and they’re saying: what the hell is going on here?

  Vincent chuckles silently and turns back to me. “Okay, Ms. Brainiac. What’s forty-seven times fifteen?”

  “Seven hundred five,” I reply. He looks at me with surprise but continues.

  “One hundred twenty-two times seven plus forty-six?”

  I picture the numbers in my head. “Nine hundred. That’s easy, give me more.” We’re both laughing again, and I feel like we’re inside this warm and gooey bubble. Everything and everyone outside of us is blurry and dull and… silent.

  Wait a second. I look around and realize that the silence is not just in my head. Every single person in the kitchen is staring at us. I hear a voice say, “Who the hell is that?”

  Before things can get more awkward, I turn to Claire, relieved that she didn’t leave our side. “Vincent, do you know Claire?” He smiles at her and her face immediately falters. He outstretches his hand in a greeting.

  “Hey.” With only one word, her face changes from white to red. Honestly, it’s not her fault. Looking at Vincent straight-on is hard to do without crumbling. Tom rolls his eyes at her inability to speak and throws a possessive arm over her shoulder.

  “Tell me something, Claire,” Vincent starts. “Seven thousand one hundred fifty divided by thirteen.”

  “Five hundred fifty. Why?” Her eyes bounce between Vincent and Tom. Claire may be gorgeous, but she’s obviously wicked smart.

  “Damn, you two girls deserve each other.”

  Some of Vincent’s hair gets into his eyes and I’m yearning to push it off his face. Instead, I look away. I shouldn’t be doing this.

  “Yo, let’s play quarters!” Tom grabs a bunch of beers and cups off the counter.

  Claire takes my hand and pulls me toward the couch with a face full of question. She glances back and forth between Vincent and me as if she’s trying to understand what is going on. I shrug because I don’t have any answers.

  We drop down onto the L-shaped leather couch and the boys sit on the bottom of the L so that we can all see each other. Tom explains the rules of the game to me; we each get a chance to bounce a quarter off the table and try to get it into one of the cups full of beer. If you get your quarter into a cup, you choose who in the group has to drink it. The boys keep getting their quarters in and making Claire and me drink. Before I know it, we’re drunk in the best possible way. I feel free and relaxed as I laugh at something stupid Tom says. The alcohol has thankfully shut my inner voice up. All I can see and feel in this moment is a blissful buzz and Vincent’s warm gaze.

  Soon enough, the game is forgotten as Tom begins telling us stories about my economics professor, Ms. Williams. Apparently, she used to dance in a cage at Exit, a huge dance club in the city.

  “Yo Vincent, remember the moment you noticed it was your professor dancing up there? Jesus…her tits! I was ready to fuckin’ sign up for college after that show!”

  “You don’t go here?” I ask.

  “Nope. Just come out to party with this asshole.”

  I look back at Vincent and my laughter abruptly stops when I glance down at his pants and confirm that he’s carrying a gun. Other people wouldn’t notice, but I’m not other people. I was raised in the hood. How the hell did I not realize in the bathroom just now? Or any of the times we were together last year? Vincent muddles my brain.

  The conversation is continuing, but I’m not listening anymore. Terror starts to move through my body. His last name isn’t just a name; this is Vincent Borignone. My heart thumps so hard I feel sick. He’s killed people. He’s a thug. Borignone mafia.

  He notices the change in me and sits up to move closer. I lean back, not wanting him to come any closer. The look on his face tells me that he knows what I’m thinking; I forgot how easily Vincent is able to read me. My eyes flicker down to his pants, and he slightly nods, letting me know that yes, he’s carrying right now.

  Shrill laughter breaks me out of my mental fog and seems to be coming from above me. I look up only to see a tall blonde teetering in her heels. It’s like slow motion as she falls into me, about to turn me into party roadkill. But before she can crash down, Vincent jumps up, catching her mid-fall. How can a man so big be so agile?

  He sets her straight and when she looks at him, she freezes. “Oh, um, hi Vincent.” He dismisses her by turning his back and taking a seat next to me.

  “You okay?” he whispers centimeters from my ear. I blink for a second longer than necessary, remembering what his lips feel like. Soft and warm, but so demanding. I’m in the midst of emotional whiplash right now.

  “Stop eye-fucking my girl,” Claire says with a giggle. “I know she’s insanely hot, but keep it in the pants, would you?” He jumps away from me as if he’s been slapped. Meanwhile, Tom is looking at him angrily.

  I turn around, noticing that mostly everyone in the party is gone. I need to get out of here. Before I can say goodbye, Claire stands up.

  “Why don’t we all go out? The night is still young! Eve has an ID too, right? We can go wherever.”

  “We?” My eyes open wide.

  Vincent laughs at my comment as if it were a joke. “Let’s head over to Goldbar. I heard DMX is coming for Shaun Roses’ birthday.”

  I t
urn to Claire, moving my head side to side in the universal gesture for no. Not one to take no for an answer apparently, Claire grabs my hand and pulls me toward the elevator. “Don’t back out, Eve. This is once in a lifetime.”

  “But—

  “No buts. We’re gonna end up having the best night ever! Tom and Vincent are probably the most well-connected men in the city, and if you don’t go, I can’t go. Please come. I’ll owe you!” She puts her hands up in prayer and I huff, looking up at the ceiling. I can’t say no to her right now. I’m trying to be social. I’m trying to change my life around. Backing out of this would mean ending a brand-new friendship that I’m not ready to lose. I guess I could go and then leave once we get there. I can use the headache excuse.

  “Fine,” I reply dejectedly.

  She jumps up and down excitedly as the guys walk over to us. Vincent cracks his knuckles, a serious look on his face.

  We step into the elevator. Vincent is next to me, but I focus on when I’ll state my excuse. Should I wait until we’re at the bar?

  Exiting the building, we wait on the dim corner for a moment when a long black Escalade pulls up to where we’re standing. The driver steps out of the car and opens the door for us. Claire goes inside first and Tom jumps in behind her. I walk inside next, my heart leaping from my chest as Vincent sits directly next to me. Claire and Tom are in the third row, behind us, giving us privacy I wish we didn’t have. The driver slams the door shut behind us.

  The inside of the car is dark. I try to breathe slowly and concentrate on my own heartbeat. When we stop at the next light, I’ll use my headache excuse and ask to be taken back to the dorms. That’s all. Vincent may be a liar with a girlfriend, but he would never hold me against my will, right? I stuff my hand into my purse and grip my phone. I need something to hold onto; it’s like a lifeline right now. I try not to notice that Vincent’s huge legs are spread wide on the seat, brushing against mine. I can sense from my side eye that he’s turning toward me.