Claimed by the Wrong Wolfe

CHAPTER TWO

Vivian's POV

“Are we… dating?“

Vivian's face crumpled with disbelief, pain, and anger flashing in her eyes. Not… that question? She never expected it from him.

She stared at Tristan Wolfe, really stared at him for a long time, and the more she did, the more absurd those three words sounded. Her hands trembled slightly on her lap as she asked, “Ain't we dating?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

He scoffed like she was a joke he didn't get too well. “Come on, Vivian. You know that is not what we are doing.“

Unarguably, she had thought that they were a couple. She had been in love with him for the past year. She had given him her body, time, everything and all that was for what? A fling?

Vivian slid down from the desk, dragging her dress down with more force than necessary. “What the hell did you mean? I thought you loved me.“

He walked away from her and sat back in his chair. “Loved you?“ He repeated. “Don't get me started, Vivian. How can I be in love with a woman who slept her way up?“

“Excuse me?“ She snapped, rage burning through her as she instinctively took a step forward.

“Of course,” he snapped back. “I know you slept with Mr. Blake to get the internship, didn't you?“

Mr Blake was the Human Resources Manager of the Wolfe conglomerate. There were rumours that he only employed ladies who gave him their bodies in exchange. But then… that wasn't the case for Vivian. Mr. Blake had employed her solely because of her good grades and potential.

Vivian had heard the rumours herself. When she got into the Wolfe conglomerate, her colleague asked her who she was connected to and she genuinely told them she had no one and then they just assumed that she must have slept with Mr. Blake. She didn't pay attention to the rumours since it wasn't true but she had never expected that Tristan actually believed it too.

“Of course, not. I will never do that,” she said, her voice trembling with barely restrained rage and her eyes blurring with unshed tears.

“Sure, sure,” Tristan said in a dismissive tone; he clearly didn't believe that.

“I have loved you, Tristan.“ Her voice broke as she tried to fight back her tears “I have always dreamed of a future with you. But I'm just a slut to you? The one to warm your bed?“

Tristan was enraged, sprang up to his feet, and slammed his fists on the desk. “Don't you dare play the victim card. Every time we had s*x I made sure to pay you for your service. So it's a win–win.“

Vivian couldn't believe her ears. He has always paid her? How? Then the memories came rushing back.

She had always thought it was strange but anytime they made love, Tristan would always get her gifts: expensive jewelry. Limited edition of dresses. Huge money transfers. He even brought her a penthouse on her last birthday.

On numerous occasions, she has complained about his extravagant gifts but Tristan would say 'You are worth more than all this, babe.' She thought it was proof of his love for her, not knowing it was a measure of how much she satisfied him in bed.

“So everything…. you've given me was a payment for my body?“ Her voice was hoarse.

Tristan closed the distance between them. He wrapped his hands around her waist, smirking as he brushed a strand of stray hair from her face. “Of course. Or why else were you sleeping with me if not because of the money and extravagant treatment?“

Vivian didn't say a word. Just her lips trembling and her fists digging into her palms.

He leaned in, his breath hot against her neck as he whispered. “So… don't spoil the fun. Let's keep up with the arrangement. You f**k me. I pay you handsomely well."

God knows Vivian really tried to tame her anger but she lost it at the end. She took a step back, and her hand connected to his face.

Pa!

The sound echoed through the room, snapping his head sideways.

Tristan clenched his burning cheeks. He balled his fists, staring at her with rage-filled eyes.

That single look would have made Vivian cower in the past but now… it only made her more angry.

She met his glare head–on. “You bastard,” she spat through gritted teeth. “To hell with you and your f*****g money.“ With that, she pushed him off her path and stormed out of the office, her heels hitting the floor sharply.

Tristan's chest was still rising and falling with anger as he watched her leave.

“Damnit,” he roared, sweeping away everything on his desk, including the laptop onto the floor.

Back at Vivian's office, the dam finally broke. She collapsed into her chair, and her tears streamed out, burning against her cheeks. She hits her aching heart with her clenched fists.

Vivian blamed herself. She was so stupid, wasn't she? She had always heard about how Tristan Wolfe is nothing but a spoiled playboy. The media even tagged him 'The Los Angeles f**k Boy' once because it was rumoured that he never made love with the same woman twice.

Still, she gave herself to him with the belief that he truly loved her and her love could change him.

She didn't know how long she cried, after a while her tears stopped flowing but the pain in her heart didn't stop.

Then suddenly, she started grabbing her things and throwing them inside her bag. She can't stay here anymore. She didn't know what she was doing but she quickly typed out a resignation and left it on her desk.

She grabbed her bag and then made her way out of the high towers of Wolfe Conglomerate. Away from all of it.

______________

Inside the bar— Glass & Smoke, Vivian sat at a quiet corner.

“Another bottle,” Vivian said, her tone drunk-filled. “And keep them coming.“

The bartender hesitated, looking at her weirdly. It was Vivian's fifth bottle tonight. She was concerned that she already had too much to drink but who was she to refuse anyway? She walked away and soon returned with the drink.

Vivian didn't bother to use the glass anymore. She drank directly from the bottle. The liquid burned down her throat but not enough to burn out the ache in her chest.

“Hey, Vivian,” a voice called, taking the seat beside her.

Vivian turned and her eyes landed on the one person she didn't expect to see. “Tristan!“ She screamed.

Tristan looked at her for a long moment, before saying, “Have you been drinking?“ he asked.

“Yes….“ She said, followed by a loud belch. “You bastard! I gave you my heart, but you broke it.“ She poked a weak finger into his chest.

He didn't say anything for a while. Just a mischievous grin spreading across his face. Then he leaned in. “I'm sorry… Vivian.“

Vivian paused, her dizzy eyes narrowing with disbelief. She had never expected to hear him apologize.

He pulled her into an embrace, whispering. “I'm sorry,” he repeated. “I will never hurt you again.“

Vivian didn't resist. She leaned into him, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It was a good thing he realised his mistake, she thought.

Vivian pulled back from the embrace and pressed a kiss to his lips. He stiffened, but kissed her back, the kiss stirring something deep inside him.

“I love you,” she whispered, pulling back. “And I will always do.“

He didn't reply. Just nodded slowly.

“Come.. let me show you something,” he said, standing up and extending his hand to her.

Vivian smiled and took his hand.

He led her out of the bar, guiding her not to stumble since she was already drunk, and then inside his sleek BMW.

Inside the car, Tristan pulled her into his lap, lips crashing against hers in a kiss that tasted like regret and whiskey.

Vivian clung to him, her mind reeling, body burning with need. She didn’t care that she was crying. Or drunk. Or that he has broken her just this morning. All she knew was that she needed him right now.

He slid her dress up her thighs and pulled her damp panties aside.

“Please,” she whispered against his mouth, breathless. "Take me now.'

He didn’t wait.

He removed his belt quickly, then his pants and briefs. His thick c**k sprang free and he thrusted into her.

“Tristannnn,” she gasped, her p***y clenching perfectly around his c**k.

Their bodies moved together in perfect sync. The car filled with the sound of their breathing, the quiet creak of leather beneath them, and her soft moans as she moved with him.

“Vivian…” he groaned, gripping her hips like he couldn’t get close enough.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, eyes shut, chest pressed to his. Something about the way he held her… felt off. Almost unfamiliar. But she blamed it on the whiskey and heartbreak and let it go.

“I love you,” she breathed. “Only you, Tristan.”

And he said nothing—only held her tighter as they both reached an orgasm.