Chapter 5 - Unveiling the Past
My breath hitched. "You’re not serious."
"I am entirely serious," Vincent murmured, his thumb lightly stroking the sensitive hollow of my throat. "Do you know why I started coming to that godforsaken diner eighteen months ago, Emily?"
I shook my head slowly, mesmerized by the intensity burning in his gaze. "You... you had business nearby."
"I had no business within five miles of that place," he confessed with a faint, self-deprecating smirk. "Eighteen months ago, I was sitting in my car during a downpour, watching a rival associate get into a cab across the avenue. Then I saw you. It was freezing, the rain was coming down in sheets, and an elderly homeless man had dropped his cart of belongings across the gutter."
He paused, his eyes softening with a memory that clearly meant more to him than I could comprehend.
"Dozens of people walked past him. Some stepped on his things. But you ran out of that diner without a coat, your apron getting soaked, and you knelt in the filthy water to help him gather every single tin can and blanket. You gave him your umbrella and pushed his cart under the awning."
"Anyone would have done that," I whispered, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks.
"No one did that," Vincent countered sharply. "Only you. In my world, Emily, kindness does not exist. Loyalty is purchased, and affection is a transaction. I watched you that day, and for the first time in ten years, I felt something that wasn't rage or paranoia. So I went inside the next morning. And the morning after that."
"You barely said two words to me!" I said, my voice wavering. "You ordered black coffee, left a fifty-dollar bill, and read your financial papers."
"Because I knew what I was," he answered simply. "A monster stained with blood. I had no right to drag a good woman into the shadows that follow me. I was content just to sit in your presence for twenty minutes a day, listening to your laugh, watching you smile at strangers. But last night..."
His jaw clenched, the muscles ticking with sudden, restrained fury. "Last night, when that worthless bastard dared to mock you, when he tried to make you feel small in front of a crowd... I couldn't sit still. I don't regret touching you, Emily. My only regret is that I didn't rip his head off his shoulders."
The raw honesty in his confession left me speechless. For years, I had believed I was invisible, an unlovable burden taking up too much space in the world. Yet this terrifying, powerful man had been quietly worshiping the ground I walked on from a corner booth.
"What do you want from me, Vincent?" I asked, my voice barely audible.
May you like
"A chance," he replied softly. "Let me protect you from the storm outside. Let me show you what it feels like to be treated like the only woman in the room."
***
