Page 23 of Shield

Vin hasn’t contacted me.

After Matti dropped me off, I cleaned up and got back to work as fast as I could, hoping Vin might reach out or suggest a meeting. But nothing.

I came to work early the next day and stayed late, just in case. Still nothing. Repeated that again today, and no response. Not from him and not a word from Matti, either. I’m not sure which is worse.

At least work has been slammed, which is rare for a Friday. A full day of appointments plus walk-ins left no time for anything, including staring at my phone, wondering what the fuck I’m going to do if Vin ghosts me. Or thinking about Matti. At all.

Blake is at my desk having just locked up after our last client of the day. “Come on, girrrrl. You cannot, I repeatcannot, stay holed up in your shitty little horror story of a house for another fucking night. I’m serious.”

“My what?” I feign deep hurt. Blake literally lives in a closet in the Alphabets, so he’s madly jealous of my house, shithole that it is.

With exaggerated air quotes, he huffs, “Oh,excuse me, your ‘palatial celestial mansion’ in the Jersey City projects. Whatever, bitch. You need to come out with me and Amelia.”

I smile, shaking my head. He’s been at this literally every day since I’ve gotten back. You’d think he’d run out of energy. Or take a hint. But no, not Blake.

“Amelia’s going?” I tease. He knows I’ll never go, but we have a script at this point.

“Yes! So you toddle your little ass home, put on something that shows off your magnificent tits, and then get back over here for drinks and then drinks,” he leans in conspiratorially. “And then more drinks.”

My phone rings, and when I see Vin’s name, my stomach is immediately in knots. I answer on the second ring, raising my finger to Blake and stepping away from my desk. “Hey, Vin—”

“This isn’t going to happen,” Vin says, cutting me off, his voice cool and detached.

“What the fuck?” I snap. Immediately, I regret my tone and try to walk it back. “Why? What’s the problem? I thought—”

“No problem. I just don’t want to,” he says matter-of-factly.

“What? But you said—”

“What I said was I’d see what I can do. And I don’t see what I can do in this situation.”

I kick the wall and turn around, throwing myself against it. “You don’t see how you could get the phone number of a woman who works for you?”

His tone is mocking and playful, like this is a game to him. “What is it with Valentina? Why do you want to see her so bad? You want a threesome with her andMatti?”

I bite back the bile rising in my throat. Just the thought of his hands on her makes me physically unwell. Not because I want him—which I abso-fucking-lutely donot—but because Valentina doesn’t deserve Matti’s attention.

His mind blowing, earth shattering, panty-melting attention.

“You’re an infant,” I snap. “If you know of someone else who can do the job, great. I don’t give a shit about Valentina. I’ll take literally anyone who can get this done with discretion. I find it hard to believe that your organization is without contacts for this purpose.”

Vin’s tone turns venomous. “I don’t owe you shit, Siena, which means ‘my organization’ is not atyourdisposal. In case you haven’t noticed, princess, I give zero fucks about you or what you want. The only reason I deal with you is to protect my boy’s interests—and my boy is no longer interested. He’s moved on, and so should you. Lose my number. Don’t contact either of us again.”

The line goes dead.

I stand there, dumbfounded. Vin isn’t going to help me now? And Matti moved on? When? Before or after he fucked me on the hood of Vin’s car two fucking days ago?

FUCK.

I replay Matti’s words from that day, right before he pushed inside me. When I asked him about the need for protection, he said, “You’re the only one I don’t wear a condom with.” Meaning he’s been wearing them. With other women.

With a cold wave of shame, I realize why he refused to kiss me, over and over again: because he’s kissing someone else.

Is he kissing her the way he kissed me that day at the Edge? Like she’s the only woman he’s ever loved?

Throwing my phone on my desk chair, I whirl around and kick the wall again. I shove my hands into my hair and grip it by the roots, dropping down into a squat and banging my forehead softly against the wall.

The rational part of me knows I can’t fault him for fucking other people. He was never mine. But the rational part of me is being held hostage by the part of me that wants to fuck him senseless until he realizes that heismine—

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