Vivienne

8

❒ Romeo ❒

Just ten minutes after the words left my lips, I started to regret it. I knew she didn't know shit about cars, but this was pathetic.

When I told her she had to get on her knees to use the jack to lift the tire, she gave me an attitude about her outfit getting ruined. When she finally gave in, it became apparent how little she was trying.

"Could you move?" She snarls turning her head over to me. Her head was once again near my crotch making it so hard for me to focus on the task at hand.

"You're not pushing hard enough," I state ignoring her question. She rolls her eyes standing up.

"You do it then, aren't you the mechanic?", she dusts her hands with a disgusted look on her face.

"Vivienne, this is basic stuff, you need to know how to change your own tire," I step closer to her, so close I have to look down at her, "Try again", my voice sounding stern.

She huffs muttering something under her breath. A few minutes pass until the tire is sufficiently lifted. "Now was that so hard?" I ask in a mocking manner, trying to get under her skin.

"I'm surrounded by power tools," she states turning around, her cheeks heating up, "do you really think it's wise to provoke me?" I look closely at her. A thin layer of sweat coats her body giving her a glowing presence. Her brown hair is clipped up allowing me to view the slope of her neck. Her mere presence screamed perfection.

And I so badly want to ruin it.

I hand her the lug wrench without breaking eye contact with her. "On your knees princess", I say a smile tugging at my lips. And for a split second, I see her eyes widen the smallest bit, but it's gone the moment I see it.

She rips the wrench out of my hand scowling, clearly annoyed with her predicament.

After unscrewing the nuts she practically throws the wrench at my chest as I look at her unimpressed. "What now shit-bag?" She places her hands on her hips and tilts her head looking up at me. Her grey eyes capture my attention I almost don't notice her calling me a shit-bag.

I force myself to snap out of it and lean against the counter. " Take a wild guess," I look at her crossing my arms. Her grey eyes flick down to my biceps, then back up to look at my own dark ones. Still, her brows are furrowed. "You can leave anytime you want to Princess, I'm not holding you captive."

She rolls her eyes, "Give me the fucking tire."

✧༺♡༻✧

The sheets refuse to feel soft under my body as I try to catch my breath. My forearm settles across my eyes, my other hand clutching my abdomen. My head was pounding causing the left side of my skull to tense up, the scratches against my cheek throbbing.

Tonight's final fighter had brass knuckles on. He should have been disqualified but the crowd seemed to disagree with me.

I hear a knock on the door only for it to slide open a second later. Without having to open my eyes, I know who it is. Fuck off.

"Torelli–" he starts but I'm already shaking my head. Mr Ford was a refined gentleman, or at least that's what he wants people to think. His perfectly combed hair, neatly folded handkerchief, and black polished dress shoes made him come off as civilised, but I knew better.

I knew that beneath those so-called 'kind' brown eyes lay a sick, sinister brain that thrived on power, and pain.

"What the fuck" I whisper menacingly.

I drag my arm off my face and sit up wincing at the blinding pain against my skull. "What the fuck Ford," I look up at the suited figure in front of me. He wasn't a big guy, I could easily wrap my hands around his neck and watch his face turn blue. But I knew if I was to do that, I'd be shot before his heartbeat stopped.

"No equipment allowed huh?" I seethe standing up.

"I didn't authorise it, he wasn't supposed to have those but by the time we noticed, the audience had already placed their bets," he shrugs his shoulders like it wasn't an issue.

I chuckle stepping closer to him, "Is this how careless you are with all your business? If you got robbed, or someone took an attempt on your life, or worse, your establishment, would you shrug it off?" I was livid, my fists clenched by my sides.

He looks unfazed, smiling a little, "Relax, I'll take care of it, it won't happen again. You won, so at least you know you can take more than you think." He picks up a bottle of water and tosses it to me, "Take a few days off okay? My treat," He winks then strides toward the door.

"I'll be in touch."

After getting my shit together, I pace toward the exit into the cool night air. I stride toward my car, throwing my duffle bag into the passenger seat. Instantly my mind pictures Vivienne with her legs crossed as she mouths off.

I rub my temples, my head feeling like absolute shit. Slamming the door shut, I hurriedly rev up the engine and speed off, my mind still thinking about the grey-eyed brat.

Earlier at the shop, she gathered her things and left the second she finished changing her first tire. It was a minute after I felt her absence along with the desire to see her again. Slowly but surely she was invading my every other thought until I was left wondering if I had the same effect on her.