Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Iris

I wake to the soft glow of dawn filtering through unfamiliar curtains.

For a disorienting moment, I forget where I am.

Then I feel the warm, solid presence beside me, and everything comes rushing back.

Viper.

I turn my head slowly, careful not to disturb him.

He's sprawled on his back, one muscular arm flung above his head, the other resting across his bare chest.

The sheet has slipped down to his waist, revealing the intricate tapestry of tattoos covering his torso.

In sleep, his face is relaxed, softer somehow.

The hard edges and ever-present tension have melted away, leaving him looking younger, almost vulnerable.

God, he's beautiful.

I prop myself up on one elbow, drinking in the sight of him.

My eyes trace the strong line of his jaw, the full curve of his lips, the dark sweep of his lashes against his cheeks.

Even after everything we did last night, I still can't quite believe I'm here, in Vincent Beckett's bed yet again.

Viper—the man who's been haunting my dreams for weeks.

My best friend's father.

A convicted felon with danger written into every line of his body.

What the hell am I doing?

I push the thought away, not ready to deal with the tangled mess of emotions roiling inside me.

Instead, I focus on memorizing every detail of this moment.

The steady rise and fall of Viper's chest.

The faint scent of his cologne lingering on the pillow.

The play of early morning light across the planes of his face.

My fingers itch to trace the bold black lines inked into his skin, to map the contours of his body.

But I don't want to wake him.

Not yet.

So I content myself with looking, savoring this rare, unguarded version of him.

And I'm starting to realize I want all of him, complicated history and all.

Viper stirs slightly, a small furrow appearing between his brows.

I hold my breath, but he doesn't wake.

His breathing evens out again, deep and rhythmic.

I wonder what he's dreaming about.

What ghosts haunt his sleep after fifteen years behind bars?

Does he relive the moment that changed everything, the arrest that tore him away from his little girl?

Or has time softened those edges, letting him find moments of peace even in unconsciousness?

The urge to touch him grows stronger.

I want to smooth away that tiny frown, to chase away whatever shadows are flickering behind his closed eyelids.

But I resist, not wanting to break this spell just yet.

Instead, I let my mind wander back to last night.

The heat of Viper's hands on my skin.

The intensity in his dark eyes as he looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

The way he said my name like a prayer and a curse all at once.

I shiver at the memory, desire pooling low in my belly.

It wasn't just sex, as mind-blowing as that had been.

There’s a connection between us, raw and electric.

Two damaged souls finding solace in each other, if only for another night.

But was it just one night?

The question hovers in the air, unspoken but impossible to ignore.

What happens when Viper wakes up?

When we have to face the harsh light of day and all the complications that come with it?

I don't have answers.

All I know is that I'm not ready for this to be over.

Not when I've only just begun to scratch the surface of who Vincent Beckett really is.

Carefully, I extricate myself from his embrace, holding my breath as he stirs slightly.

He mumbles something unintelligible and rolls over, still deep in slumber.

I let out a quiet sigh of relief.

I slip out of bed, wincing as my feet hit the cool hardwood floor.

Goosebumps rise on my skin as I pad quietly around the room, gathering my scattered clothes from the night before.

My lacy black bra dangles precariously from a lamp shade, and I can't help but smile at the memory of how it got there.

As I pull on my jeans, I steal another glance at Viper.

He looks so peaceful, so different from the intense, passionate man I've come to know.

A part of me wants to crawl back into bed, to wake him with soft kisses and lose myself in him again.

But I can't.

Not yet.

Not until I figure out how to navigate this complicated situation with Allegra.

I finish dressing quickly, smoothing down my hair as best I can.

My reflection in Viper's mirror shows a woman I barely recognize—flushed cheeks, swollen lips, eyes bright.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what comes next.

With one last lingering look at Viper, I tiptoe to the bedroom door.

My hand hesitates on the doorknob as I strain my ears, listening for any sign that he might be waking up.

Nothing but the soft sound of his breathing reaches me.

I open the door as slowly as possible, cringing at every tiny creak.

Finally, I slip through and gently pull it shut behind me.

Only then do I allow myself to exhale.

In the hallway, I lean against the wall for a moment, my mind racing.

What am I doing?

Is this the right choice?

But I know I need time to process everything that's happened, to figure out my next move.

I pull out my phone, fingers hovering over Allegra's name in my contacts.

No, I can't call her.

Not yet.

Instead, I open the Uber app, requesting a ride.

As I wait for confirmation, I can't help but replay last night in my head.

The way Viper looked at me, the feel of his hands on my skin, the intensity of our connection...

The ping of the Uber app snaps me back to reality.

My ride will be here in five minutes.

Just enough time to slip out unnoticed.

As I make my way down the stairs, a war rages inside me.

Part of me wants to run back upstairs, to wake Viper and tell him... what?

That I'm falling for him?

That I'm terrified of losing my best friend?

Instead, I force myself to keep moving, each step taking me further away from the man who's turned my world upside down.

As I reach for the front door, I pause, my hand trembling slightly.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, though I'm not sure if I'm apologizing to Viper, to Allegra, or to myself.

With a deep breath, I open the door and step out into the chilly morning, leaving behind the warmth of Viper's bed and the certainty of his arms.

For now, all I can do is put one foot in front of the other and hope that somehow, someway, everything will work out in the end.

The Uber pulls up, a sedan that blends into the quiet suburban street.

I slide into the backseat, grateful for the tinted windows that shield me from prying eyes.

I mumble the address I need to go to the driver, who nods silently.

As we pull away from Viper's house, my mind drifts back to last night.

The way his tattooed arms wrapped around me, strong yet gentle.

The intensity in his dark eyes as he looked at me, like I was the only woman in the world.

"You okay back there?" the driver asks, catching my eye in the rearview mirror.

I force a smile. "Yeah, just tired."

It’s nice of the driver to ask, but I'm not okay.

I'm caught between ecstasy and dread, replaying every moment with Viper while simultaneously imagining Allegra's face when she finds out I’ve been sleeping with her father.

I whisper to myself, leaning my forehead against the cool glass of the window. "God, what am I doing?"

The streets blur past this beautiful morning, but I can barely appreciate it.

All I can think about is Viper's cocky grin, the way he'd say, "You're playing with fire, sweetheart," in that husky voice of his.

I close my eyes, remembering how it felt when he touched me. "Damn it, Viper," I mutter. "Why'd you have to be so... you?"

The car slows to a stop, and I realize we've arrived at Desire House.

I turn and thank the driver before getting out of the Uber.

Standing in front of Desire House, I take a deep breath.

The weight of my choices settles on my shoulders as I walk toward the entrance, each step bringing me closer to a reality I'm not sure I'm ready to face.

Once I’m inside, I head straight to my room.

I step into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over my tattooed skin.

Steam rises around me, blurring the edges of my reflection in the glass door.

I close my eyes, trying to wash away the memories of last night, but Viper's touch lingers like a phantom on my skin.

"Focus, Iris," I mutter to myself, lathering shampoo into my long black hair. "You've got work to do."

As I rinse off, I can't help but think of Allegra.

The guilt gnaws at me, threatening to consume my thoughts.

I shake my head, sending water droplets flying. "Nope. Not going there."

I step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around myself.

In the steamy mirror, I catch a glimpse of my reflection—dark eyes rimmed with smudged eyeliner from the night before.

I look like a hot mess, and not in the good way.

Determined to pull myself together, I start applying my makeup.

The familiar routine is soothing, each stroke of eyeliner and swipe of lipstick like armor I'm putting on.

"You've got this," I tell my reflection, finishing with a coat of deep red lipstick. "Just keep busy. Don't think about Viper. Or Allegra. Or how royally fucked up this all is."

I throw on some clothes—a black crop top and high-waisted jeans—and head out the door to Satin Dreams.

I unlock the front door to the club, flipping on lights as I enter.

It looks different in the daylight—less mysterious, more vulnerable.

Kind of like how I feel right now.

"All right," I say to the empty room, clapping my hands together. "Let's do this."

I start with the bar, wiping down surfaces and restocking bottles.

The repetitive motions are calming, and I find myself getting lost in the work.

For a while, I almost manage to forget about everything else.

Almost.

As I'm arranging glasses behind the bar, I hear the front door open.

I freeze, my heart suddenly racing.

It's too early for any of the other girls to be here.

"Hello?" I call out, trying to keep my voice steady. "We're not open yet."

I stand up slowly, peering over the bar.

My blood runs cold as I see who's standing there.

Lyon.

The last person I want to see right now.

"Well, well," he says, a smirk playing on his lips. "Fancy meeting you here, Iris."

I swallow hard, willing my voice not to shake. "What are you doing here, Lyon?"

He takes a step closer, and I have to fight the urge to back away. "Can't a man stop by and check in on his ex?" His eyes roam over me, and I feel exposed despite being fully clothed.

I clench my fists, anger rising to replace my initial fear. "You need to leave. Now."

Lyon's smirk grows wider, more menacing. "Oh, Iris. Always so feisty. It's what I loved the most about you." His voice drops, becoming dangerously soft. "It's also what got you into trouble."

I reach for my phone, trying to look casual. "I'm serious, Lyon. Get out, or I'm calling the cops."

He laughs, the sound echoing in the empty club. "Go ahead. I'd love to see you explain to them how you started an underground brothel with your ex-con of a boyfriend."

My hand stills on my phone.

"And you think they would believe you?" I say, trying to keep my voice level. "Just leave, Lyon. Please."

He takes another step forward, and I can see the anger simmering beneath his calm exterior. "I don't think I will, Iris. In fact, I think it's time we had a little chat about respect. And consequences."

As he moves closer, I realize with growing horror that I'm trapped behind the bar.

My mind races, searching for a way out, but all I can think is: This is bad. This is really, really bad.

I force a laugh, trying to mask the fear that's slowly creeping up my spine. "Yeah, sure," I say, rolling my eyes and channeling every ounce of sarcasm I can muster. "Because I'm just dying to take orders from my stalker ex-boyfriend."

Lyon's eyes narrow, and I can see the muscle in his jaw twitching.

He's always hated when I mock him, and I know I'm playing with fire.

But if there's one thing I've learned in life, it's that you never show weakness.

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" he snarls, taking another step closer.

The smell of his cologne—the one I used to love—now makes my stomach churn.

"Always with that smart mouth. But let me tell you something, Iris. Your little act doesn't work on me anymore."

I grip the edge of the bar, my knuckles turning white.

My heart is pounding so hard I'm sure he can hear it, but I force myself to maintain eye contact. "It's not an act, Lyon. I genuinely think you're pathetic. Now get the fuck out before I make you regret coming here."

The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, and I immediately wish I could take them back.

Lyon's face contorts with rage, and for a moment, I see the man behind the mask—the one I was always afraid of, even when we were together.

"Make me regret it?" he says, his voice low and dangerous. "Oh, sweetheart. The only one who's going to have regrets is you."

I barely have time to process his words before a searing pain explodes across my face.

The force of Lyon's backhand is so unexpected, so violent, that I lose my balance.

My feet tangle beneath me as I stumble backward, and suddenly I'm falling.

The impact with the floor knocks the wind out of me.

There's a sickening crack as my back hits the hard surface, and a white-hot agony rips through my spine.

I try to gasp, but my lungs won't cooperate.

Panic sets in as I struggle to breathe, my vision blurring at the edges.

What just happened?

This can't be real.

Lyon's an asshole, sure, but I never thought he’d put his hands on me again.

My scattered thoughts are interrupted as Lyon's face appears above me, his features twisted into something I barely recognize.

Gone is the man I once thought I loved.

In his place is a monster, eyes gleaming with a cruel satisfaction that chills me to my core.

He sneers, dropping to his knees beside me. "Not so cocky now, are you?"

I want to scream, to fight back, but my body won't respond.

The pain in my back is overwhelming, stealing what little breath I've managed to recover.

Lyon's hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around my throat with bruising force. "You dumb fucking cunt," he spits, his face inches from mine. "I'm going to make you wish you never fucking left."

His grip tightens, and true terror grips me as my airway closes off.

I claw weakly at his hand, but it's like trying to move a steel vise.

"You might not want me inside you," Lyon continues, his voice a low, menacing growl, "but I don't give a shit. I take what belongs to me, and you belong to me, you bitch."

Black spots dance in my vision as I desperately try to draw in air.

In this moment, all I can think about is Viper.

His smile, his laugh, the safety I felt in his arms just hours ago.

Now, as consciousness starts to slip away, I realize I might never see him again.

I'm sorry, Allegra, I think hazily.

I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen...

The edges of my vision blur, darkening rapidly as Lyon's fingers dig deeper into my throat.

I can feel my pulse throbbing against his palm, desperate and frantic.

My lungs burn, screaming for air that can't reach them.

Lyon's other hand moves.

There's a ripping sound, and suddenly I feel cool air on my skin.

He's torn my shirt open, exposing me.

The violation of it sends a jolt of adrenaline through me, but it's not enough.

I'm too weak, too close to passing out.

"That's right," Lyon's voice seems to come from far away now. "Remember who you belong to."

My eyelids flutter, growing impossibly heavy.

The last thing I see is Lyon's face, twisted with cruel satisfaction.

Then darkness swallows me whole, and I slip away into nothingness.

I'm falling, falling into an abyss where Lyon can't reach me.

Where no one can reach me.

Part of me wants to stay here, safe in this void. But another part fights, clawing its way back to consciousness.

Viper's face flashes in my mind.

Allegra's laugh echoes in my ears.

The girls at Satin Dreams, who've become like family.

They're all waiting for me.

I can't give up. I won't let Lyon win.

But the darkness is too strong, pulling me under.

My last coherent thought before I lose the battle with consciousness is a desperate plea:

Someone help me. Please, someone find me...