“I can…” I can’t think straight, so I open and close my mouth in a desperate attempt to connect my brain to my synapses. His appearance caused a short circuit there.
“Explain?” he asks, leaning against the wall as if he doesn’t trust himself to be too close to me.
“Is Evie your sister?” I blurt, my nerves reaching a new level.
He glares at me.
She is, isn’t she?
Great. I fucked around, and now I am about to find out.
6
TRISTAN
The force of seeing her again sucker punches me straight in the gut, threatening to knock me down. My knees go weak, and I lean back from sheer gravity.
Fate. Is this fucking fate serving me a prime example? I loathe the notion. I am not a damn puppet on someone else’s strings. Not some lost soul stumbling through life, following blindly a path someone else set for me.
I am Tristan Kinkaid—nothing moves me, nothing affects me.
But it’s getting harder to ignore the asinine concept humans invented to make sense of things that are beyond their understanding.
Since she crashed into my life, I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Viviana is stuck in there like a virus that took over and rewrote my system, leaving me powerless when I swore to myself I’d never be helpless again.
Who the fuck put her in my path, making a mess out of my tidy life?
Why is she the exception, bringing chaos into my organized schedule?
In the last month, she has assaulted my brain, hijacking my focus like nothing else—remembering her honeyed taste, the exquisite feel of her lithe body, undoing me, one string of reason after another.
I’ve searched for her like a complete madman, ignoring work, postponing sleep. She disappeared into the night like a ghost, leaving me wondering if I had made her up.
Pragmatic as I am, I had someone draw her features to run the image through a facial recognition program. I came here to get myself back under control after discovering her identity, aware of whose virginity I took.
Did God himself decide to punish me sooner, notwithstanding waiting until I took my last fucking breath to kick me straight to hell among my peers.
Did the devil decide to take notes about my depravity, knowing full well I lack morals and give a damn about repenting for my sins?
But her very existence tests my resolve.
Tests my control.
Ironic that the woman I have been searching for is my sister’s best friend.
Evie begged me not to dig up information about her roommate, who I thought was just another girl and not a fucking Mafia princess. The sister-in-law of one of my associates.
A flush colors her beautiful face—that unforgettable face starring in every daydream and haunting my nights. “I should go.”
She makes no move, aware I won’t let her leave—having her and holding on to my sanity synonymous.
“Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve sneaked out on me,” I grit out.
I never thought she’d leave my bed. No goodbye. No note. Nothing. And I, who usually has the most sensitive sleeppossible, slept like a fucking satiated beast after enjoying a scrumptious feast.
“What were you doing at the masquerade?” I gnash my teeth, struggling for composure.
Her eyes widen into two incredulous pools, pupils switching from left to right in clear terror. “I was with a friend.”
