She doesn’t smoke.
It’s too beneath her.
But she’ll get fucked up on vodka and pills from time to time.
“Does my pretty girl not want to get high?” I ask with a fake smirk. “Don’t want to get that lipstick smeared?”
Her gaze flicks back up to me, and she slowly shakes her head. “No.”
My smile widens either from my high, or the fact she can never read me. Bay would never get so deterred or distracted. It doesn’t matter how much I charm or seduce the woman, she’d be on her shit.
Vivian seems to have already forgotten.
“Would you like me to grab you a drink? I need some fucking aspirin; my head is pounding.”
“I’ll grab it.”
She pivots then, but I’m quick to snatch her bicep and spin her back to me. Her body immediately tense at the initial contact because I couldn’t hide the fact, at first, that I didn’t want to touch her. “I think I have some making up to do, Viv. The least you could do is let me grab you something to drink.”
Her body softens a bit against my touch. “It’s not a big deal.”
“It is to me.” Her lips part, more than likely off a retort, but I tack on, “A king also serves his queen, too, Viv. I know you know that.”
“I’m not your queen, Cairo,” she argues, pulling her arm away. “You’ve made that perfectly clear.”
“Can’t have you walking and talking about how we’re together. Not when I’m trying to get inside?—”
“What,her?” she clips out, yanking a bit on her arm, but she doesn’t do it hard enough to get free of me. She wants me to chase. “You think I’m fuckingstupid?”
I scoff with a slight shake of my head and pull my lower lip between my teeth. “Alright, fine. I’m not going round and round. If you want to be pissed, get pissed.”
“You’re not for me.”
I turn on my heels and start for the window, praying to God she stops me because she can’t help herself.
She doesn’t, I’m fucked.
And I’m not and would never get on my knees for her to forgive me.
My right leg is through the window by the time she’s yanking on my shirt sleeve and coaxing me back inside.
“What are you here for?” she asks lightly. “You don’t visit anymore.”
“I already told you. I’m getting tired of acting. Can you blame me, Viv? I have pressure from all sides. My father is?—”
“Alright,” she cuts in softly. “I…get it, okay? But in front of the guys? Do you have to feed them the same story? They’re mean to me, Cairo. Cruel, even.”
I bow my head, as if I’m listening and give a shit. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry about that.”
“Make it stop,” she mutters before I cup one of her cheeks and tilt her head up. Vivian’s breathing hitches a sliver at my touch. “Please…”
“What will you give me for it?”
Her green eyes gloss over with longing and hope. Two things she should know are dead and gone. I’ve only made it clear a million and one times over several years, but that’s the problem with denial.
It’s a powerful yet consuming concept or idea.
It’s a dream Vivian will never reach in this lifetime or the next when it comes to me. Because while our relationship is dead and gone for reasons already mentioned, my head is already preoccupied with a dark-haired vixen with a nice ass and an even bigger mouth.
