Sweet Venom: Chapter 17

Tate’s story shocked the fucking hell out of me. It explains why I’ve always felt a pull to him. He’s been bent just like me. I hate the word broken. It seems so absolute, and I don’t believe our fucked up pasts damaged us beyond repair. They did, however, shape us differently. We don’t think, feel, or love the way normal people do. We can’t because we never lived it. I’ve been fucking sick over the details he shared for the past two days, and to make things worse, it’s been that long since I’ve seen him.

When I saw him with that woman at the Chinese restaurant, I could tell something wasn’t right. I initially thought he didn’t want to be caught talking to another girl, knowing I would be walking out of the bathroom any moment. And yes, while I didn’t admit it at the time, when I saw her place a hand on his arm as if she knew him intimately, a pang of jealousy flared in my veins. I had this innate desire to mark my territory.

I could tell she was your typical snobby elitist, dripping in designer brands and filled with more collagen than blood, so I name-dropped. I wanted to put her in her place. It’s not public knowledge that I am no longer the heiress to the Fiori fortune. The girlfriend slip-up shocked me as much as it did Tate. That wasn’t the card I’d planned on using, not that I had a hand to play to begin with. Everything was sprung on me so fast I was thinking on my feet, but I didn’t like the way Tate was acting. He was so quiet, almost timid, and I couldn’t get a read on the cold emotion I felt radiating off of him in waves. I’ve never felt such a soul-deep unmasking. At that moment, I knew what he needed, and I reacted. But nothing could have prepared me for the horror of what he was about to deliver.

Of course, the man delivered the worst news while feeding me my favorite fucking food. How he knew I loved Chinese, down to my exact order, was somewhat unsettling. I know Ellis keeps tabs on me as well. However, Tate’s tracking seems next-level. As I shoved a steamed dumpling into my mouth, he said, ‘Vi, there’s no good place to start when retelling a nightmare, so I suppose I’ll just rip the band-aid off. Monica Sweet is a sexual sadist. She gets pleasure from piquerism.’

My exact response was, ‘Come again?’ I know that a sadist gets pleasure from inflicting pain or humiliating others, but piquerism was new to me. He explained that it’s someone who derives sexual interest from penetrating the skin with sharp objects. I had to remind myself to close my mouth and act calm when all I really wanted to do was freak the fuck out. I mean, I’ve heard of some fucked up shit. People like crazy stuff, and to each their own, if it’s consensual, but I had this gut-wrenching feeling the second I heard those words that Tate was an unwilling participant—which explained his discomfort with her presence.

Tate went on to tell me all about Monica Sweet and her house of horrors. Monica was into cutting people, but her husband was the devil incarnate. The first week they arrived at the Sweet house, he witnessed Harold Sweet blatantly checking out Chelsea in a way no grown man should ever look at a minor. One night Tate got up to use the restroom and caught Harold outside her door. He immediately charged, catching him off-guard and taking him to the floor, landing punch after punch that had Monica coming out of the master to see what the commotion was about. Tate had been certain that would be their last night in that house, but he’d sealed his fate with that one move. Immediately, he’d put himself on Monica’s radar, and what Monica wanted, she got, because she was more than aware of her husband’s deplorable proclivities. Not only was she knowledgeable; she fed them. Harold let it go that night, knowing full well that Tatum would quite literally pay his pound of flesh for his brazen attack.

Monica went on to make a deal with Tatum to ensure that Chelsea was not only untouched, but that her medical needs were seen to in exchange for his services. It was then that he was fully aware of why such a wealthy couple wanted to take on their case. Monica was smart. She’d known she wanted Tatum all along. She’d hand-selected them and then waited, knowing full well she’d get her way, seeing as Tate refused to ever leave Chelsea’s side. For three fucking years, he played the role of pin cushion for Monica Sweet. Tate was seventeen when they moved into the Sweet house. Still, he’d endured her torture for another two full years after he turned eighteen because he couldn’t legally claim guardianship over Chelsea until he had a place to stay and a job.

Needless to say, I lost my fucking appetite that day, and it has yet to come back, mainly because I haven’t heard from Tate. I told him to let me help him take them down. We could figure something out. Hell, I’ve even considered hopping back on a plane to ask my grandmother for a loan just to ensure money was no issue, but he assured me he had it more than handled. That’s what worries me. Tatum Carroway doesn’t have the means necessary to take down people like the Sweets, and I’m not ready to lose him over some reckless revenge plot.

Before I can give it any more thought, a throat clears behind me. ‘Are you seriously rolling out a wall in a cocktail dress?’

I close my eyes and pin my lips together. I look like a hot mess, but I was trying to kill two birds with one stone: stay on budget and clear my mind. The grand opening of Blush is just around the corner. Chipping in to paint helped me stay on budget, and it was supposed to help clear my mind and settle my nerves. The latter did not happen.

I’ve laid down my roller when Mark chimes in for me, ‘I swear I tried to talk her out of it, but I was on the losing end of a short stick. She’s technically the boss, and the guys didn’t mind the entertainment considering they’re working late tonight. I know when to shut my mouth.’

I roll my eyes at his remarks before saying, ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah. Losing stick, my ass. I cut the checks, but you man the team, and you’re a man down. So I had to pick up the slack.”

I don’t bother responding to the other comment because he’s just trying to get a rise out of Ellis. Mark likes to poke the bear. I’ve never understood it, but hey, whatever. While I know guys will be guys and take a look, I also know that as a woman, I would probably take a look too. But there is a difference between a look and ogling or, god forbid, making lude and inappropriate comments. I’m genuinely going to miss this team when the jobs are done. They’ve become a second family of sorts over the past few weeks. Aside from being a man down, that bond is why I had planned on working tonight. Yes, it’s my place; I’m personally fucking invested, but I also enjoy the company. However, tonight Ellis insisted I come to his anniversary party, and the man can be very persuasive when he’s trying to get his way. Three orgasms before I left for work this morning had me giving in to any and all demands.

‘Okay, I just need to grab my heels and my phone out of my office, and we can leave.’

Ellis follows behind me. ‘Seriously, you had to paint in that dress?’

The irony of his statement is not lost on me. Ellis is a very possessive man; I’ve personally removed three trackers from my bike. I know he is more than aware of my whereabouts at all times, but while he’s willing to share me, he draws the line at other men looking.

‘Yeah, I was hoping maybe I’d get it dirty, and then you wouldn’t want to take me,’ I tease. I honestly don’t mind going. It will be good to catch up with the girls from the club, but I do have a lot to wrap up here at Blush.

I’ve just barely flicked on the light to my office and Ellis is already at my side with my phone and shoes in hand. ‘Do you want me to grab your laptop, too?’

‘Ellis, I’m more than capable of carrying those things.’

Then, bending down, he places my heels at my feet before delicately dragging his fingers up my calf, only to stop at my thigh and place a kiss right where the hem of my dress meets my leg. ‘I know you can, but I wanted to.’

I bite my lip at his antics. The man is insatiable, but I’m not one to talk; I’m always ready for him. But I know tonight is important, so I tease, ‘If you want to get me in the car, you better get off that floor.’

He gently nips my thigh before slapping it and saying, ‘Let’s go.’

‘Baby, what’s bothering you? Is it the money? Is this why you have been running yourself into the ground, staying late, and doing the work of a laborer? I know you can do this on your own, but don’t stress unnecessarily. Let me help you. You don’t have to take my money outright. Consider it a loan and pay me back when you turn a profit.’

Yes, I’ve been working like crazy, but isn’t that what’s expected of anyone starting out independently? They pour their blood, sweat, and tears into their business to see it thrive. It’s their baby, a labor of love—but because it’s Ellis, I know he can see I’ve been more than a little off the past two days. I assured him it had nothing to do with the information he extracted from Mason behind my back. I told him, ‘You wanted my past, you wanted my story. Now you have it, but, like you, I don’t care to relive my nightmares. I want to let them go.’ And that was that. It’s one of the things I love most about the man. He doesn’t push. But right now, he’s nudging me outside of my comfort zone, and he knows it. I told him why I withheld my finances from him. I didn’t want him or anyone else to think I was with him for his wealth. Blush is mine. I want to do this on my own, but more than that, I need to do this on my own, and he knows that.

‘Why do you always do that?’ I say with a hint of annoyance.

‘Do what?’ he questions.

‘Insist on things you know I don’t want?’

The second the words leave my lips, I know they weren’t the exact ones I sought. I could have delivered the same comment with more decorum, but I can’t help it. I’m upset.

‘Vivian, I didn’t get where I am by not accepting help. I was a poor boy without a penny to my name when Nico lent me money. I paid him back with interest as soon as I could. It’s okay to ask for help.’

He’s not wrong. I know I’m not truly upset with Ellis. He just happens to be here. I’ve been on edge and extremely sensitive the past few days. I don’t know why. It’s not like me to care so much or be so wholly invested in someone else, but that’s part of the territory when you start letting people in. You allow yourself to be vulnerable. This past month has been a whirlwind of significant events in a small amount of time. A threesome with my boyfriend and his brother, my personal traumas and secrets revealed, Tate and all his layers, and the biggest one yet: my heart. I allowed myself to love for the first time. It’s been a month of firsts, and I’m allowed to be anxious and maybe even irritable. That’s a lot of shit to experience in a short time.

My silence has him asking me another question. ‘Or is this something else?’ His eyes flash to me briefly, no doubt to get a read on my reaction to his question. We have yet to talk in-depth about Sebastian, what happened at the estate, or where his brother’s been, and I haven’t determined why that is. Does he think I need time to digest everything he’s thrown at me? Or is this a him thing? Maybe he’s working through all this as well. While I know he’s clearly thought some of this through, I’m almost positive no conversations have been had with Sebastian, and you can’t make someone want what he’s suggesting. It’s there, or it isn’t.

Reaching across the center console, he takes my hand and laces our fingers together before saying, ‘Baby, I know he hurt you, but you were not the intended target. You were collateral damage, and for that, he will pay.’

As I stare at our joined hands, guilt slowly settles in my stomach. I haven’t discussed everything that Tate revealed at our lunch the other day, and it’s not because I’m trying to hide it or be dishonest. It’s simply not my story to tell. Tate technically paid good money to keep anyone from finding out about his past, not to mention I noticed how Monica still used his given name, Carter. He also hasn’t talked about his sister much at all. All I know is that she exists, and I imagine all he’s done has been to protect her. While I’m glad I know all this, I hate it at the same time because I can’t do anything about it.

I don’t want to lose him because he made a careless mistake in the name of revenge without fully thinking it through. I mean, he practically signed up for war with Ellis when he decided to pursue me. If Ellis was a different man—or the man Tate thinks him to be—he’d already be dead.

However, Ellis isn’t wrong in his assumption that my thoughts are of Sebastian. He’s also plagued them, but not for the reason you’d think. I’m worried that what we shared has done irrevocable damage to Ellis and Seb’s relationship, and the last thing I want to do is come between those two. The problem is, I already have.

‘What if I say I have a lot of thoughts, but it’s nothing you need to worry about?’ It’s true my worries don’t change anything about what I feel for Ellis. I told him I loved him, and I meant it. He is mine for as long as he’ll have me, and maybe even after that, because when I said that I loved him, I meant that I’d love him forever.

He squeezes my hand before bringing it to his lips and placing a kiss atop the back of my knuckles and saying, ‘Then I guess I’ll have to believe you.’

‘Has anyone ever told you there is such a thing as being too agreeable?’

Next thing I know, he’s releasing my hand and exiting the car. Damn. I’ve been so fucking distracted with my thoughts that I didn’t even realize we had arrived. Coming around to my side, he opens the door, and I climb out. I don’t even get the chance to fully right myself before he pulls me in close, tipping my chin up so that my eyes are squarely on his when he says, ‘I think we both know there’s only one person I bend for, and she’s currently wrapped in my arms.’

He’s not wrong. There’s a reason Tate said he is a bad man, and I believe that assessment is based solely on his connections and persona. Nico Serra might be a tech giant, but he’s also rumored to have ties to the mob. However, being that I myself am Italian, I can verify that most people with our heritage are believed to have those ties. The Fioris were rumored to have them generations ago, but that’s all it ever was: hearsay.

Ellis is a man who goes after what he wants, and he doesn’t take no for an answer. He is smart as hell and ruthlessly groomed by his shit upbringing, so it’s no surprise that those qualities carry over to his business persona. Unable to resist the sexy as fuck, stony enigma that is Ellis Lykos, I push up on my tippy toes in search of a kiss, and he more than greedily meets me halfway. Diving in, he takes what he wants, and I happily submit. I love that no one else gets this side of him but me. Reaching down, he grabs one cheek hard, pulling me firmly against his front, ensuring I feel every inch of his hardening cock. I love that I can get him worked up so easily, but before we get too carried away, he pulls back and says, ‘Come on. As much as I’d love to take you in the back seat of my car, you look fucking stunning tonight, and I don’t want to mess that up.’ He kisses my lips one more time before adding, ‘Though, a just-fucked glow would pair nicely with that dress.’

I swat his chest in jest. ‘Come on, if you play your cards right, I’ll let you fuck me in the dress later.’

‘Deal.’

Ellis stayed by my side for about the first thirty minutes of the event before I pulled him aside and insisted he let me go so he could mingle. This is his anniversary party. He needs to talk to his employees and show face. He’s actually a really great boss. I have no doubt that’s why he now has three clubs in the US and another four in Europe.

‘Hey girl, how have you been?’ Lana steps up next to me at the bar as I wait for my Bloody Mary. It’s not my go-to drink, but I’m hungry, and the V8 juice will help until I catch one of those appetizer trays.

‘I’m good. One more week until Blush opens. It’s why I’ve been MIA at the club. I’d like to pop in more often and say hi. Hell, I’ve been meaning to stop by and say thanks for the other day, but…’

‘Girl,’ she laughs, ‘It’s funny you should say that. I asked Ellis on Monday after everything went down if you were still alive.’ The bartender interrupts to ask for her drink order. ‘Oh, yes, I’ll take a Manhattan,’ she says with a wink. Ellis apparently thought the girls would enjoy hot men tonight because I swear all the wait staff could double as fucking underwear models.

‘You give me no credit, Lana. I’m disappointed.’

‘No, no, no,’ she retorts, waving her hand. ‘I knew you could hold your own. I had no doubt you weren’t going down without a fight, but it’s the Lykos brothers we’re talking about here, not some college-bred suit who doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground. They are just as ruthless and cunning as you are.’ Finally, our drinks are delivered, and she adds, ‘Oh, to have been a fly on the wall when you delivered that blow.’

‘Yeah, you missed something all right,’ I say as I take a drink of my Bloody Mary and briefly glance at the backyard. Ellis clearly had no limit on the party planning budget. I’ve never been to his Seacliff home. The house is stunning, sitting on a bluff overlooking the ocean, but the yard looks like something straight out of a magazine.

White couches are placed strategically around the yard with gas fire pits in the middle. Overflowing pots of white roses and moss line the high-traffic walkways. The pool has been covered with an acrylic floor that doubles as a dance floor and holds high-top tables for drinking and congregating, while white lights zig-zag overhead, creating this cocoon effect in an otherwise wide-open area. It’s incredibly whimsical. There are even private cabanas with huge white beds covered in white pillows nestled around the perimeter.

The dress he had sent to my office for the evening now makes sense. He put me in a white lace mini-dress. It’s sleeveless and hugs me tight around my breasts and through my torso and barely covers my ass, but the lace layer continues down until about mid-thigh. The dress is gorgeous, and I match the décor.

‘So, where has Sebastian been, anyway? Maybe I asked the wrong question when Ellis returned on Monday,’ Lana says on a snort.

‘I’m not sure. I haven’t seen himself,’ but just as the words leave my mouth and I turn my attention back to Lana and away from the enchanting yard, my eyes land on Sebastian Lykos wrapped around another girl at the end of the bar. Damn it. Why does that hurt? I quickly pull my eyes away before he catches me looking and say, ‘Hey, I’m going to run inside and use the restroom. I’ll be right back.’

‘Yeah, sure. Look for me at one of those cabanas when you come out.’

Let’s get one thing clear: I’m not running from Sebastian. The man doesn’t scare me in the least, but I’m not prepared to deal with the feelings seeing him with another woman brings. Somewhere over the past two weeks, I let myself believe that man didn’t use me to break up Ellis and me. I convinced myself that even though his words dripped with hate and his actions reeked of venom, he wanted me as much as I wanted him. I now know I was wrong, and I need a minute to collect my thoughts, maybe do a shot or two, but just as I’m about to ascend the wide staircase leading up to the house, a couple in a cabana catches my eye. I can’t see her face, only her long blonde hair, but there is no mistaking who the man is. Tatum Carroway has his arm draped over her shoulder as he leans in to whisper in her ear.

Before I can break my gaze away from the sight, I feel a cold presence at my back right before Sebastian steps up and says, ‘Let me guess, you didn’t know your sidepiece had a girlfriend?’

My heart rate slowly starts to spike. I didn’t expect to see Tatum here, of all places, and with another woman. For one, he’s not an employee, but two, everything we shared the other day felt extremely raw and authentic. He gave me something I know he doesn’t give everyone, so yes, I’m a little confused. When I thin my lips to bite back my words, he adds, ‘Oh, how the tables have turned. The little slut doesn’t like to share.’

Right as I turn around to give him a piece of my mind, a fist comes flying past my face out of nowhere, hitting Sebastian square in the jaw. I step back to avoid getting knocked over and see that his attacker is Ellis. Setting my drink down on one of the tables, I move to step in and pull Ellis back and stop the fighting, but before I can take another step, a hand catches mine, pulling me back. ‘Vi, come with me.’

My head snaps up to meet Tate’s panicked gaze, but I’m not his concern. ‘Let me go, Tate. I saw you. It’s fine. Your secret is safe with me. Just go back to your date.’

He pulls me back harder this time, and I have to brace myself against his chest to keep from tripping in my four-inch heels. ‘Let me explain, and if you still feel the same after, I’ll let you go.’

I pull in a stuttered breath as I search his face for a tell and find none. Finally, when I don’t say anything, he leads me away from the fight and the party. We follow one of the lighted paths until he veers off and pulls me through the grass and behind one of the cabanas. When we hit the tree line, he stops and says, ‘The girl you saw me with is Chelsea.’ Relief instantly floods my body, knowing that I didn’t misjudge him or us, and he starts, ‘Vi, look, I have something—’

But I cut him off, crushing my mouth to his and stealing his words as he falls back into the tree. I don’t care what he has to say. He’s repeatedly told me that he wants me, and I want him. It only takes him a second to grant me entrance, and as my tongue slides against his, he groans deep, only confirming I was right in my heart. He does want me. He wants us.

My hands slowly glide up his toned chest, his defined muscles clenching under my touch. I didn’t realize how much I needed this moment until I was in it. Our last conversation and how we left things had me hanging on to my last shred of sanity by a thread, as my mind ran through every worst-case scenario that could have occurred and kept him from me. I feel his hard length pressed against my stomach, and I slowly begin to unbutton his shirt. I only open three buttons before he grabs my hands and pulls out of my kiss. ‘Fuck, Vi. You know I want this, but not here.’

I kiss the exposed part of his chest before saying, ‘I’ll be quick.’ My eyes flick up to his, and I add, ‘I missed you. Let me have this.’

Those words end up being the right ones, because he releases my hands, and I immediately drop to my knees before he can stop me. ‘I missed you’ is the best I can do when it comes to words. Giving him this means more. It says everything I’m still too scared to admit out loud. Sure, he’s said we are happening, that he’s not giving up the girlfriend title, but I haven’t given in to him, not like I am now.

It only takes me seconds to unleash his rock-hard cock, the evidence of his arousal already dripping from the tip. Instantly, I grip him around the base and lick his slit. ‘Fuck babe,’ he hisses as his hand finds the back of my head, and his fingers run through my hair, only spurring me on. I love that he’s enjoying this. Wrapping my lips around his swollen head, I adjust my hold so that I can take him down my throat to his base, and just as I feel him slide down deep, he says, ‘Fuck Vi, get up. We have company.’