The Score (8 page)

“In ways, yes. You can say it, baby. It happened, and you
can
say it.”

“I don’t like to.”

“I know,” Anton said gently.

Viviana shuddered when Anton leaned down to press a kiss on her forehead. “I just … don’t understand.”

“Understand what, exactly?”

“Why it’s so hard for me. It wasn’t like I had weeks and weeks being pregnant. I was only a few weeks into it. If I wasn’t paying attention to my cycles, I probably wouldn’t even have noticed I was pregnant until I miscarried.”

Anton felt a small sense of triumph at Viviana’s utterance of the word she so viciously avoided. “Because you did know. You had already attached yourself to the idea of having the baby. You didn’t consider this would happen, and really, why should you have? I don’t think the length or severity of your hurt and grief should be measured by the duration of the pregnancy. If anything, this shows you’re capable of feeling love. That you can, even so early and soon. The baby meant something to you—to me, too. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Viviana cleared her throat, blinking away the tears still shining in the corners of her eyes. All over again, Anton wished he knew if what he was saying was having an effect on his wife. If it meant anything at all to her. He only wanted to help.

“One of the nurses at the hospital, she was in my room when you left for a bit.”

“And?” Anton pressed.

“I’m not sure if she was just trying to help, but she called the baby tissue.”

Anton felt his spine crack as he stood a little straighter. “What?”

“You know, like cells and tissue. That’s all the baby was, according to her. She said it didn’t even have a heartbeat at the gestation it was and things like that. I don’t think she meant any harm, just trying to—”

“Distinguish the difference between the soul of a baby and the worth of tissue to a woman who had just lost a pregnancy? For what, to dictate how she should feel? That’s fucking ridiculous,” Anton muttered angrily. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because in her own way, she was just trying to help, Anton. But it made me think, and it’s been on my mind all month. Was that what you thought of the miscarriage, just … tissue? I wouldn’t be hurt if you did,” Viviana rushed to say when Anton stayed silent. “I might not understand, but I wouldn’t persecute you for it, either.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Viviana stared up at him, confused. “That’s it?”

Yeah, it was, really. Anton correlated the pregnancy to his wife. It was something they, with love, had made together. Just like their son and their life. Maybe the form it was lost at was simply tissues and cells but it was much, much more than that, too.

“It was ours, Viviana,” Anton said honestly. “That was all that mattered to me.”

“Ours,” she echoed.

For the first time in longer than Anton wanted to admit, his wife smiled the tiniest smile.

Chapter Seven

Viviana used the tip of her finger to trace along Anton’s cheekbone. The strong lines of his face always relaxed in his sleep, making his appearance more boyish than the intense stares he usually sported when awake. Wearing nothing but his boxer-briefs and covered with only a sheet, nearly all of his beautiful, masculine form was on display for her to enjoy while he slept.

She didn’t feel so damned guilty, then. Viviana didn’t even understand why it was that she felt guilty over looking at him, anyway. Maybe it was because she yearned and ached to be closer to him than what she allowed, but things were still holding her back.

The miscarriage would be an acceptable excuse, and certainly an understandable one, if that was the reason why. Viviana knew it wasn’t. More than anything, she craved the comfort and intimacy Anton would give her physically, but she also didn’t trust herself enough not to hurt when it was over.

Desperately, Viviana held onto the knowledge that Anton loved her. When she was fighting to be found, he wasn’t far behind. When she was tattered in pieces, he was putting her back together. There was a strength in his love that had an almost suffocating quality, but she’d die happily wrapped in it. A certain devotion glimmered in his eyes that he reserved solely for her. He could be strong willed, possessive, jealous, and sometimes, just downright difficult, but he was
hers
. That love—all-encompassing and seemingly never-ending—was there. It was as true as it would ever be.

Viviana didn’t deny that.

But, he’d hurt her, too. Even if a million parts of her heard Anton every time he promised it couldn’t have happened the way it seemed, that he’d never touch another female willingly, something had happened with that woman. Anton allowed himself to be put in a position where his fidelity, both past and future, was in question. Viviana’s trust was shaken. It rocked her foundation in a way she hadn’t considered.

Viviana was finding it hard to move past that.

She wanted to, though. So badly.

Verbally and emotionally, the two were connecting. Maybe even in a way they hadn’t been able to before because when they did need to connect, the first thing one reached for was the other, physically. To touch, to understand, and love—sex had been the link between them, and it worked. But, for the first time in their relationship, Viviana found both her and Anton were relying on different modes to make that familiar connection keeping them so close.

There were off days and some were worse than others. There were also hits and sometimes misses, like earlier in the day when Viviana assumed she understood the depth of her husband’s pain, or lack thereof, over her miscarriage. If Anton was anything, he was good at wearing masks. He’d been doing it his whole life, after all. Some habits were hard to break. Viviana recognized his need to be a solid foundation when everything else around them seemed to be crumbling, but sometimes she needed to see his cracks, too.

Hell, they didn’t even have time to deal with one thing before the next came in to wreck and destroy. Were they being tested? It certainly felt like it. Were they winning? That was harder to tell.

Viviana’s fingers ghosted down over the faint stubble shadowing Anton’s jaw before allowing her fingers to trail down further to his neck, where the pulse of his heart beat against her skin. For a moment, she reveled in that feeling.

I breathe for you. My heart beats, and breaks, and bleeds only for you.

God, she loved this man.

“Vine?”

Like an electric shock to her system, Viviana jerked at the sound of her name on Anton’s mouth. She attempted to pull her hand away from his skin only to find him holding her fingers in place. Suddenly, his heart rate had picked up under her touch, beating much faster than before.

“What are you doing?” Anton asked a little groggily.

“Nothing.” Viviana glanced up into the heated blue of his eyes. “Watching you, I guess.”

“Sleep?”

“It’s the best time to. I’m not so focused on you watching me, then.”

“Ah,” Anton murmured, his lips quirking up into a lazy grin. “I unsettle you, hmm?”

“Sometimes. Most times you just consume me.”

“Consume. I like that better.”

“Yeah,” Viviana said, feeling unsure under his watchful gaze. “I always know when you are. It’s like everything just fades away. You’re not seeing anyone else when you look at me and I know it. All of me centers in on that. Like a camera with a million viewers just zoned in on only me. I can feel it, if that makes sense.”

“Sure. Why do you think I just woke up, baby?”

Viviana sighed in the dark, feeling his hand encasing hers squeeze tighter.

“It
is
unsettling, though,” Anton added quieter. “Knowing there’s only one person in the whole world who has that kind of effect on you. It makes you vulnerable in some ways, and in others, you feel stronger. No one else is ever going to make every instinct you have react so completely. One heart brings you to your knees, makes you want to scream, fight, laugh, or cry. There’s only one—you, I mean.”

“Do you think we’re different from other people?” Viviana asked.

Anton shrugged one shoulder, reaching out with his free arm to wrap around Viviana’s waist. “I think we’re us, Vine. I’m perfectly happy with loving one woman enough to give every part of me over to her—mind, body, and soul. It doesn’t frighten me. Other people, they might not feel the same way, but they still love. You can’t judge the worth of their love based on the amount of themselves they hand over. Some people need to keep something for themselves. It could be the part of their soul they gave to their first love, or maybe it’s a broken piece they want to protect the person they love from it. Whatever it’s for, protection, sanity, it doesn’t matter. They need to keep it. No two people are alike.”

“But we’re—”

“Anton and Viviana,” he interrupted. “That’s all. When I fell in love with you all those years ago, every inch of your soul tattooed itself inside mine. There wasn’t any way on earth I was getting rid of you. You were in my system, bleeding me out from the inside. People couldn’t see it. They didn’t know. I needed them to, so I tattooed you on the outside of me, too.”

Viviana released a shaky breath of air at his admission. It was as heavy as the emotions filling up her heart, leaping into her throat. She’d always known his vine tattoo was for her, that it represented her in a personal way, but she never understood why he felt the need to permanently keep her on his skin. Viviana never felt the need to ask before, either. Or maybe she was scared to.

“Viviana, what’s wrong?”

The tightening in her throat made it difficult to think. She’d cried so goddamned much over the last month, and even before that, when she’d asked Anton to leave their home. She was sick and fucking tired of crying, of feeling weak, and broken.

“If you love me like that,” she whispered, still feeling his heart beat under her fingers, “…like you say you do, then why would you risk it for someone else? Why put yourself in a position where you could lose it, Anton?”

“I didn’t,” Anton said. “I didn’t go to the club that night with someone else on my mind. I didn’t let another woman touch me because I wanted her to. I might not remember a lot of the circumstances around the event or what came after, but I remember that. I didn’t want that girl to be near me. The day you stepped into my life to be only mine was the last time I ever looked at another female. I can’t keep telling you over and over again hoping you’ll hear me. You need to hear yourself say it, Vine, because obviously it’s not working coming from me.”

“What do you remember, then?” Viviana asked sharply.

“Being confused. Hazy. Knowing something wasn’t right, but I couldn’t correlate it to anything. My first thought was that I was drunk and needed to lay down, so that’s what I went to do in my office. That was all.”

“That’s not all.”

Anton’s jaw flexed in his aggravation. “That’s what I remember feeling. Beyond that, I don’t like what my memories bring up. I don’t know if I gave her the wrong impression, or if she took it upon herself to approach me, but she was in my lap. She was on me, her hand was pulling at my shirt and then it was grabbing at my …” His eyes closed, a grimace marring his mouth as he made a disgusted noise. “After that, it’s a whole lot of nothing, but I know I didn’t want her.”

“If you can’t remember most of what happened, how could you possibly know that, Anton?”

“Because she’s not
you
!”

Viviana yanked her hand from his hold and moved to leave the bed, but she didn’t have a chance. Anton’s strong arms wrapped around her waist before she’d even gotten to her own side of the bed, forcing her back to the sheets. Looming over her frame, Anton’s gaze had filled with tears. The heavy weight of his body pressing hers into the bed had awakened the simmering need still burning bright through her veins. The last thing Viviana felt was fear while staring up at him.

“She’s not you, Vine,” he repeated thickly. “She’s not my wife, or the mother of my child. She doesn’t share my bed, my life, or my heart. There isn’t a single emotion that girl invokes in me but anger and disgust—mostly at myself. More than everything, the one thing I regret is not knowing. Not being able to give you answers or tell you why. All I can say is I am sorry, so fucking sorry for letting you think for one goddamned minute that anyone could ever make me feel like you do. Nobody can. Never. I’m
sorry
.”

Viviana swallowed the pain in her heart. “Have you had any contact with her since that night?”

“No,” Anton said instantly. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“Why would I?”

“To fill in the blanks, maybe,” Viviana suggested. “That would be a valid excuse.”

“I don’t need a fucking
excuse
, Vine. I don’t want a reason to talk with that girl. I don’t need to be anywhere near her.”

“Why, are you scared it’ll happen again?”

Ouch. Even to Viviana, that sounded harsh and felt about the same.

“No, I’m scared I’ll fucking kill her,” Anton snarled.

Viviana blinked, surprised. “What, why?”

Finally, Anton released his hold on her sides, but he wouldn’t answer the question. Rubbing a hand over his face, Anton shook his head and sighed, the fatigue in his actions ringing clear. Viviana took the moment he gave to try and pull something—anything—from what she already knew to figure out why her husband wouldn’t want to answer that question.

Anton was Bratva. He just was. He was a husband, a father, a son, and a man, but above everything else, he was a Bratva boss. Whether Viviana liked it or not, her husband was involved in things she didn’t like or approve of, but that was his life. She’d accepted it. If violence was something Anton felt he had to resort to in order to deal with someone, there was always a reason, and it usually led back to his brotherhood.

“Anton …”

Wary eyes wouldn’t meet her stare. “Don’t, Vine, please.”

“Anton, what aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s not an excuse, and I don’t want it used as one for you to forgive me, Viviana. Just leave it alone.”

More confusion filled Viviana. Desperately, she wracked her brain, searching for what she was missing.

“I can’t,” she finally said. “Please tell me.”

Anton’s hand came to rest on her hip, his thumb sweeping gently along the exposed patch of her skin. “I was arrested the afternoon after that night.”

My first thought was that I was drunk …

“Your drinks are always watered down,” Viviana stated. Anton didn’t like to be drunk when Bratva were around, she knew. He’d once said it muddled up his head too much so he couldn’t pay attention. It wouldn’t be like her husband to get hammered. It was irresponsible. “Who was mixing them that night?”

“Jen.”

Jen was their friend—someone both Viviana and Anton trusted.

“And who was serving you?”

Anton’s teeth clenched. “Natalie.”

The tension in Viviana’s body released as she sunk back into the pillows.

“Different drugs are meant to do different things to a person,” Anton said above her. “Blow gets you up, makes you stay there. I used to love it once. Weed, it mellows you out, takes you to a calmer place, like bringing you down in a good way.”

While Anton didn’t partake in chemicals anymore, Viviana knew he still occasionally smoked a joint. She didn’t care, really. Weed was the least harmful of the drugs he dabbled with on the Bratva side of things.

“Heroin takes everything away, pain, emotion, thoughts,” Anton continued. “Pills are similar, depending on what you’re mixing up. But ecstasy, Molly, things like that, they make you feel good. Physically, you want to be touched, it’s like a drug in and of itself. It makes your head hazy, but in a good way. There’s no inhibitions to hold you back, no cares …”

“You used that a lot in high school, didn’t you?” Viviana asked, her voice suddenly turning hoarse.

“Oh, yeah. There was nothing like it. I loved it. There was a point when I was using it every day, just because I could. My baseball dreams didn’t end because I chose Bratva, it ended because I was caught giving X to my teammates in the locker-room after a game we won. They tried to say I was dealing in school, though I wasn’t. I had a ready supply at hand, why would I need to deal to support it? My father could have easily paid my way out of it, but he didn’t.”