Page 122 of Black Castle

“It’s only been a few days since the break was over.” She shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “Nothing much has happened.”

She finally lifts the cup, takes a sip, and lets the heat burn her tongue. Another lie swallowed down.

“Cool.” Ian nods, his gaze flickering away, scanning the room absently.

“And you?” she asks, eager to shift the focus. “How about work? Found anything yet? And did you look into Quantum Pixels’ offer?”

His jaw tightens, barely perceptible. “Oh, that.” He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t get to the email on time. My sister forgot to mention it to me, so it kinda ended up as a missed opportunity.” His eyes flicker to her. “It was given to someone else.”

Shit.

Guilt grips her like a vice. This is on her—no matter how much she tries to shove it away. If she hadn’t kissed him that day. If they hadn’t been caught, he would still have a job. Maybe they would have still been together, and who knows, maybe she would have fallen for him and this confusion she is currently facing, stuck with one man with two personalities wouldn’t be there.

In the end, she is the architect of her misfortune, isn’t it?

“I missed you, Vivienne.”

The quiet confession steals the air from her lungs.

“I missed you a lot.”

Her breath stumbles, fingers tightening around the handle of the mug. “Yeah.” A pause. A hesitation. “I missed you too.”

His chair scrapes against the floor as he pulls it closer to the table. Vivienne’s lips part in a tiny gasp when he suddenly grabs her hand in his, warmth seeping into her skin.

“Can we work it out?” he asks, the pad of his thumb running soothing circles on the back of her palm. “Us? Can we make us work again? This time, for real?”

It’s just a simple question. And it’s just a simple yes or no. But something begins to lurk in the darkest pit of her mind. Fear. As if something is about to go wrong.

Her heart trips, its rhythm faltering, her nerves on edge.

Then, the glass door swings open, the bell chiming.

The chill in the air is instant, cutting through the warmth like a blade.

A shift. A disturbance.

The kind of presence that makes the hair on the back of her neck rise before she even looks.

And then she does. She looks.

Zev.

He steps inside like a shadow bleeding into the light. The weight of his presence presses into the space, into her chest. He doesn’t enter, he consumes, his presence a quiet violence that settles into the bones of the room.

The easy noise of the café dulls, swallowed by something unseen yet palpable.

Then his gaze finds her. And just like that, breathing becomes an impossible task.

“It’s okay if you need time to think about it.” Oblivious to the danger approaching, Ian still latches onto her hand like it’s his lifeline. “I know it’s been difficult for both of us.” He pauses skeptically.

“Is there a problem?” he asks, finally reading the room, his gaze following her line of vision. But before he can crane his neck to see the bad omen seeping into the room, Zev is by the table.

“Uh, hi?” So unassuming and innocent, Ian gives him a welcoming though slightly skeptical smile, questioning eyes bouncing between Vivienne and the man hovering over them.

“What are you doing here?” Vivienne asks barely above a whisper, but then she realizes he isn’t even looking at her, but at the middle of the table where Ian’s hand and hers are joined together.

Zev’s jaw tightens, eyes the hardest and darkest Vivienne has ever seen them. Quickly, she pulls her hand from Ian’s, her action plunging the poor man into a huge state of confusion.

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