Beautiful Surrender(16)

He smiled and cleared his throat, but I could tell he was affected too, his eyes betraying him with a glisten. “Come on Kristen, give us a chance. We both have crazy lives but it doesn’t mean we should fix things by ourselves. It might be easier. But if we make it through this together, we’ll be stronger. If we make it through this alone, we’ll just be better at being alone.” He touched my cheek tenderly. “Let’s work this out together.”

He gently brought my head into his chest. I grumbled but didn’t resist because it felt too good, too comforting. The distress I felt over our issues seemed to magically disappear when he held me. I realized how much I loved his touch and being with him despite our problems. It was worth taking a chance. Vincent was worth it. Even if it meant risking getting hurt.

“Fine,” I muttered. “We’ll do this together.”

He exhaled in relief and kissed my head. “Can I call you Kitten again?” he asked, nuzzling his cheek in my hair.

I tried to think of a response that didn’t make it seem like I totally forgave him. “As long as you let me call you Vinnie the Pooh.”

He laughed, the throaty sound flowing over me. “That’s the first time I’ve heard that one.”

I looked up at him. “What other ones have you heard?”

“Vin Diesel. My Cousin Vinny. Vitty Cent. Vincent van Gogh . . .” He started grinning.

I giggled. “Those are pretty good but I think your drawing skills need a little work for that last one to work.”

“You got me.” He smiled. “I made that one up a while ago and tried to get people to use it but it never caught on.”

I giggled again.

“But none of those names were as clever as yours.” He bent and sealed his lips over my mouth. Our tongues slowly, tenderly probed one another until the need to breathe interrupted them. “You can call me whatever you like.”

“I’ll probably stick with ‘Vincent’. I think it suits you best.”

“Vincent it is then, Kitten. Listen, my sister Giselle is having a birthday party for her son next Saturday. Do you want to come with me?”

Vincent at a birthday party for his nephew? I had to see this. It would also give me the chance to meet his sister, Giselle. I recalled the picture he had of her in his island cabin, the two of them smiling on a beach together. I hadn’t met any of Vincent’s family before and I was more than curious to see how he would act around his sister.

“Sure. Am I going to see you before that this week?”

His face softened. “Not this week, sorry. Flying out tomorrow morning until Friday. I will call you every night, though. My schedule can slow down, Kristen, and it will. It’s just going to take some time.”

“Okay. I’ll look forward to those calls, then.”

“Me too.”





Chapter Three




Sure enough, he called me every evening that week. The work week was otherwise pretty boring—fleshing out Vincent’s BRIC strategy and continuing research on Selena Devries—but I began to look forward to talking to him every night so much that the days flew by. I appreciated that Vincent was making an effort after the events the previous weekend. Seeing the way he had been so violent with Marty had shaken my confidence in him, but his tender side was still there. It would be interesting to see how this would continue at his nephew’s party.

Saturday morning finally came. Vincent picked me up from my apartment in a silver Aston Martin at nine in the morning. Traffic getting out of the city was a drag, as usual, but we spent the time chatting idly. It was an important step for us to build our relationship back up after it had been badly shaken with our fight. The whole day was important for that reason.

We arrived a little after ten-thirty and pulled up in front of a tidy suburban ranch-style home. The lawn was freshly mowed, and there were balloons on the mailbox announcing a birthday party. We parked on the street. Vincent had brought a birthday present wrapped in balloon wrapping paper, and I handed it to him as we got out of the car. We walked down the street and up the driveway to the house.

“So your nephew’s name is Brady?” I asked Vincent, reading the sign on the mailbox.

Vincent smiled and grabbed my hand. The present was in the other. “Yup. He’s turning three today.”

“Did you pick out his present, or did your secretary Lucy?”

He scoffed. “I would never delegate such an august task. I picked this sucker out online months ago.”

His mock offense at my question surprised me. “What is it?”

“This awesome train,” he said enthusiastically. “The TrackMaster 500X. It makes twelve different sounds and has an automatic headlight for tunnels.”