The Gender Game by Bella Forrest (motivational novels .TXT) 📕

Assassinated.

Maybe there were other reasons he (or his mysterious "helpers") would be forced to end Viggo. Reasons I wasn't aware of. Lee had said from the very beginning that Viggo was one of our biggest obstacles… and that was why Lee had sent me in to neutralize him.

Only in the process, I've become neutralized myself. I'd gotten "carried away". Exactly what Lee had repeatedly warned me against.

I tried to forecast Viggo's life in a few days' time, assuming that I went ahead with Lee's plan. Viggo would be facing death on that path, too. The state would offer him no less punishment for the crime. But maybe down that route, there was a chance that he would find a way out. A chance that he would find some evidence to prove himself innocent. Maybe Viggo could convince the authorities to conduct an in-depth investigation into the matter… Viggo would suspect me, having received my call to the crime scene. Maybe he wouldn't even link me to Matrus; maybe he'd think that I'd been traumatized and threatened so severely by the men of Porteque during my time captive there that I was doing their bidding in causing disruption. As I recalled the brainwashed Ada, that could be a plausible assumption.

And perhaps people would assume that I'd burned in the blast, so there would be no wondering where I'd gone.

And I'd be back in Matrus. Maybe even already reunited with my brother by the time investigations came to any conclusion.

As strange as it sounded, letting Viggo face Patrus' judicial system seemed like a better chance of survival for him.

"Violet!" Viggo clutched my shoulders and shook me again, forcing me to look him in the eye. "What did you come to tell me about? What could have possibly been so important that you felt the need to travel to me in the middle of the night without your husband?"

In his exasperation, Viggo had moved closer to me still. I could no longer take the pressure of his imposing form in such proximity. Pushing past him, I strode into the living room, clutching my head, my back turned to him.

Now I couldn't think of a single good reason I could offer as to why I had come here. Why I had gone behind my husband's back…

I might have already done irreparable damage by coming here tonight. Piqued his interest in Lee's and my relationship to a point where it should never have been piqued.

Viggo entered the living room after me. His tone had become calmer, quieter—more hesitant—as he said, "Has Lee… done something to you? Did you have an argument or…"

"No," I said, shaking my head firmly. "Nothing like that. We-We're okay." My pitch rose as I repeated, "We're okay."

The floorboards creaked. Viggo stood just a foot behind me now. I could hear his breathing. Breathe in his scent. My heartbeat quickened as his hand closed gently around my shoulder, endearing me to turn around.

"Then… what?" he asked.

I faced him. Blood rushed to my cheeks as I took in his tired face, his forehead lined with confusion. The stubble around his jaw had grown noticeably since the last time I'd seen him a few days ago, adding to his jaded appearance.

His confusion stabbed me with guilt. But more than confused… he looked concerned. Concerned, just as he had been after finding me wandering the streets alone, the second night of my arrival in Patrus. As he had been when he'd held my arm tightly after our encounter with the gang members outside the Rosen-Cruz fight. As he had been when saving me from Porteque and covering up my murder. After I'd woken up to him in the helicopter. And just now, as I'd arrived outside his house with a motorcycle in the pouring rain.

Viggo Croft was a good man.

Better than my Matrian upbringing had ever allowed me to imagine existed on this side of the river, or on my side.

He was the best I'd known on either side.

As he sighed, apparently giving up hope of ever receiving an answer from me, I no longer needed to wonder how to respond.

When I gazed at his face, adrenaline surged in me. My pulse raced. For the first time, I knew exactly what to do. It didn't require any thinking. Any weighing of the pros and cons. Just instinct. Pure, inescapable instinct.

"If you're not going to talk, then I need to take you—"

Viggo's voice trailed off as I closed the small distance between us. My arms acted of their own accord as they wound around his neck and shoulders. Then they were pulling me upward, closer, until I was standing on my tiptoes. My brows furrowed, my eyelids shut… and then my lips were on his. Heat rolled through my body.

His lips were firm. Voluminous. Lips that cushioned mine in a way that made me want to take them in my mouth one at a time, experience their fullness slowly, thoroughly. Lips that could engulf mine if he responded. But I didn't expect him to respond. He had frozen, arms stiff at his sides, every muscle beneath his bare shoulders and chest tensed against me.

Any second, I expected him to grab my arms and push me away. Insist that I leave.

But he didn't pry me off. Although he remained static… he was allowing me to kiss him. My chest fluttering, I dared raise my eyelids half open. His eyes were closed tight. A deep frown marring his features, he looked stricken with conflict.

Still, he didn't push me away.

He must have sensed I'd opened my eyes, for his opened a few seconds later—only halfway, like mine. We gazed at each other like two people drowning, neither of us having the strength to surface, even in the face of sinking deeper.

Then, at some point during those few dazed seconds, something sparked in Viggo's green irises. Fervor. Hunger… Need. And suddenly, my lips were no longer maintaining control. His lips moved, prying