Page 142 of Black Castle

He is bad for her. She can see it too. But she said she can’t leave him. She said he won’t let her.

Who is this man? Kenji thinks again. He has been thinking for months now. And against her knowledge, he has tried doing a background check on him using the help of his mother’s security company. But for some reason, nothing much was unearthed. All they see is what he has told her— to a businessman, a medical school graduate, and a Russian Marshall.

But Kenji knows there is more. More which has been protected by a strong firewall.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Her quiet voice pulls him out of his train of thoughts. His brows furrow. The plan was to drop her off at her home.

“Sorry?” he asks, scanning her face. But her eyes are directed at something else ahead.

“I have to go with him.” She nods her head at the object in her line of vision, and he follows her gaze to the black-tinted car parked a few walks away from them.

The sight alone and the idea of the man inside that car make Kenji’s blood boil. She makes an attempt to take a step, and Kenji’s hand shoots out, grabbing her wrist.

“Stop,” she says, and Kenji notices the fear in her voice and in her eyes too. As if she is afraid that he is holding her. But not afraid of him, but afraid for him.

“You don’t have to go with him.” Kenji feels a wrench in his heart seeing her eyes tear up.

“Kenji, please.” Letting her books drop on the floor with miscellaneous thuds, she pries his fingers off her wrist. “Please, let go.”

“Vee?”

“He will hurt you,” she whispers, and his fingers finally loosen as he stumbles backward, stunned, confused, alarmed.

“Vivienne.” His voice is barely above a whisper, eyes wide as he watches bend over to pick up her textbooks.

“I’ll call you later.” She glances back at him, and to ease him, she forces herself to manufacture a smile, waving at him.

Kenji stands in the middle of the parking lot, incapacitated and helpless, as his best friend walks earnestly to the car. A soldier pulls open the door to the backseat and she hops in.

As the door shuts, Kenji feels his soul leave his body. He feels as though he has lost something or is about to lose something.

Whatever that is, he isn’t sure.

But he will take anything, anything at all over losing his best friend to that dark.

Chapter Forty-three

Vivienne

Zev’s hand burns into Vivienne’s thigh, settling with such possessive ease as if it belongs to him by some cruel predestination. She hates that she doesn’t push it away, hates that deep down, she wants it to be there. Hates that the rebellion she feigns is just an illusion to convince herself she isn’t broken, that she isn’t craving something dark and morally corrupt.

“I’m not going to do anything to him, you know,” he murmurs, rubbing her slowly with his thumb. “I mean, he is basically going to be my brother-in-law.”

Her body goes rigid. The mere thought of a future tied to him is unbearable.

Seeing the flicker of defiance in her expression, he lets out a low, sinister chuckle. “You think I won’t marry you? How did your old woman put it again?” A mischievous glint settles in his eyes. “That I’m just gonna suck you dry and toss you aside?”

Her heart stutters. He heard it. She still had the necklace then. Of course, he heard Carla’s words.

“I’m going to marry you, Vivienne Marchand,” he declares, his voice dangerously slow, darkness laced into the words. “I don’t care what anyone has to say about that. Not even you.” He leans over, brushing his finger on her jaw. “Or your little friend.”

His tone drops in warning at the reference to Kenji and her pulse spikes.

“I know he has been telling you things. Trying to convince you to walk away from this beautiful thing between us.” His finger brushes her lower lip, sending a shiver skirting up her spine. “Who knows what I’ll do if he tries to take you away from me because I’m not good enough for you?” He exhales sharply, his face lowering, the tip of his nose brushing against her jaw. “I’ll not hesitate to—”

“No!” she snaps, shaking her head so sharply that it slams into the headrest when the car lurches over a bump. “He won’t do anything.”

Zev studies her, his gaze brimming with something promising and dangerous. Then just as suddenly, he shrugs. “Okay. I believe you.”

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