The Sound of Secrets
999 Words
Vivienne stared at the ceiling for hours after Damien left.
Sleep didn’t come.
Not because of guilt—but because of the burning awareness still crawling under her skin. His voice, his touch, the way he looked at her like she was both salvation and destruction—it was all too loud in the silence.
She wasn’t used to feeling wanted like that.
Not in a long time.
Not since Daniel had stood in front of her with his ridiculous “open relationship” speech—like it was a business proposal instead of a betrayal. She could still see his expression, the sterile logic in his tone.
“It doesn’t mean I don’t love you. It just means I need more.”
No. What he meant was less.
Less commitment. Less responsibility. Less her.
And now here she was, barely weeks later, neck-deep in a different kind of hell—stuck between two men who couldn’t be more opposite.
She rolled out of bed sometime after 10 a.m., her body aching but her mind wired. She needed coffee. Answers. A moment to breathe.
She padded barefoot into the kitchen, tying her robe tighter around her waist.
But the moment she turned the corner, she froze.
Her brother was sitting at the counter, arms crossed, a half-empty cup of coffee in front of him.
Nathan.
Buzzcut hair. Jaw set like granite. Navy hoodie and the same suspicious eyes he always wore when he was in “protective older brother” mode.
Vivienne’s heart dropped into her stomach. “How did you get in here?”
“Your key’s still under the flowerpot,” he said flatly. “Always has been.”
She swallowed. “You shouldn’t be here.”
He raised a brow. “You shouldn’t be hanging around with guys like Damien Black.”
Vivienne blinked. The name landed like a slap.
He knew.
Of course he did. Nathan wasn’t just her older brother—he was also her late father’s right-hand man back in the day. Military background. Ties in law enforcement. And a sixth sense for trouble.
“You’ve been watching me?”
He didn’t answer. Just looked at her.
“You don’t get to do that,” she snapped. “I’m not sixteen anymore.”
“No,” he said slowly, “you’re not. You’re twenty-nine, freshly separated, emotionally wrecked, and apparently rubbing elbows with men who sell bullets for breakfast.”
Vivienne felt her face flush. “You don’t know anything about Damien.”
“I know enough.” Nathan stood, his voice dropping. “He’s dangerous, Viv.”
“And so are you,” she shot back. “What’s your point?”
He stared at her for a long time, like he was trying to decide whether to shake her or shield her.
“You think you're in control. But you're playing with fire, Vee. That man? He doesn’t do gentle. He doesn’t do love.”
“Maybe I’m not looking for love.”
Nathan paused. “Then what are you looking for?”
Vivienne didn’t have an answer.
Instead, she turned away, poured herself a cup of coffee with hands that trembled.
“You don’t know what it’s like,” she muttered. “To have someone choose freedom over you. To watch the person you built your life around just… walk away.”
Nathan’s voice softened. “I don’t. But I know pain. And I know what it looks like when someone tries to numb it by diving into chaos.”
Silence stretched between them.
He sighed. “If you want to wreck yourself, fine. But don’t drag someone like Damien into it. Because men like him? They don’t break—they break others.”
Vivienne turned, her eyes sharp. “You don’t get to make that call.”
“I do when your name is showing up on the same club guest lists as two of the city’s most violent men in arms trafficking,” he growled. “You’re smarter than this.”
“I’m not sleeping with them.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” he said. “It’s your heart I’m worried about.”
She looked away.
Nathan grabbed his jacket and headed toward the door.
“Just be careful, Vee,” he said softly. “Because when the line between danger and desire starts to blur... someone always gets hurt.”
---
Vivienne stood frozen long after he left.
It wasn’t that Nathan was wrong—it was that she didn’t care.
Or maybe she did.
Too much.
Later that evening, she found herself back at the club.
The same dark booth. The same pulsing bass. The same crowd of reckless souls looking to forget.
But this time, she wasn’t alone.
She felt his presence before she saw him.
Damien.
He emerged from the shadows like a whispered sin. Black shirt. Silver ring glinting on his finger. His eyes landed on her, and a slow, dangerous smile curved his mouth.
He didn’t ask to sit. He just did.
Close.
Too close.
“I figured you’d come,” he said.
She sipped her drink, lips trembling. “I shouldn’t have.”
He leaned in. “But you did.”
The tension between them was electric. Unbearable.
“You want me,” he whispered.
“I want to forget.”
“Same thing.”
Vivienne’s throat tightened.
But before she could answer—before she could decide what the hell she was doing—a familiar voice broke through the haze.
Luca.
He was at the edge of the booth, eyes locked on Damien. Jaw tight.
“Vivienne,” he said, voice clipped. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
Damien didn’t move. “She’s busy.”
“She’ll decide that.”
Vivienne looked between them. Luca—steady, protective. Damien—dangerous, magnetic.
And in that moment, she realized something terrifying.
She wasn’t sure who she trusted more.
Or who would ruin her first?
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