VIAQUEZA ESTATE

Vanessa's room

VANESSA

For a fleeting moment, she considered pretending to be asleep.

But she knew better.

Vincent wasn’t the kind of man to be ignored.

Taking a slow breath, she stood, crossed the room, and unlocked the door.

Vincent stood there.

Freshly changed, his sleeves still rolled up, his posture relaxed. But his eyes...

Something lurked there. Something knowing.

As if he was aware she’d been thinking about him.

"Have you been inside your room all day?" His voice was smooth, almost amused.

Vanessa folded her arms, steadying herself. "I’ve been busy."

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Of course."

He leaned against the doorframe, studying her like he was waiting for something.

"Why don’t we take a walk? Get some air."

Her stomach tightened.

Every instinct told her to refuse.

But she also knew...Saying no to Vincent often led to more questions than she wanted to answer.

So, she nodded.

And as she stepped out of her room, one thought echoed in her mind.

Keep a safe distance from Vincent Viaqueza.

The estate’s grand halls were eerily silent at this hour, the sconces casting long shadows along the marble floors.

Vanessa kept her steps even, her pulse betraying her.

Vincent walked beside her, easy, unhurried, as if the acquisition of Blackthorne never happened. Nor that night in the War Room when he covered her with his coat. 

As if there had been no bloodstained shirt. No cryptic silences. No moment where she had stood frozen beneath his gaze, unsure whether to step forward or flee.

But Vanessa wasn’t fooled.

She had seen him, really seen him.

And now, she couldn’t unsee it.

More than that, she couldn’t let him see the past she had buried so carefully.

They stepped outside, the night air cool against her skin. The shed loomed in the distance, a shadowy reminder of the secrets she wasn’t supposed to ask about.

Vincent glanced at her. "You seem tense."

Vanessa forced a small shrug. "Just tired."

His eyes lingered on her. "Is that all?"

She clenched her jaw. 

She could ask him outright...Why didn't you afford me the courteosy of telling me about the Balckthorne asquisition if you see me as an equal? Why give me your jacket? What were you doing in that barn? Who---

No.

She had promised him.

She had to be careful. Vincent wasn’t the type to take well to interrogation, and she still wasn’t sure what kind of man he truly was.

Instead, she inhaled deeply and said, "I think I’ll head to bed now. I’ll have to skip dinner."

Something flickered in Vincent’s eyes. Amusement?

Like he had been expecting this.

"A little walk before bed can’t hurt," he murmured.

She hesitated.

He should have stayed the dark, dangerous crime lord she was wary of.

But this, this version of him. The smug, insufferable gambler!

The one who spoke in riddles and let her catch glimpses of something more...

That was the part of him that was starting to get under her skin.

So much so that the tension between them had begun to feel like something else entirely.

And Vincent, damn him, was waiting for her to say it first.

But she wouldn’t.

Not when she was still figuring out whether he was someone to fear… or someone wrapped in more mystery than she could handle.

"I think it’s best I go ahead." Vanessa stopped walking but Vincent continued on a few steps further before turning back.

Hetilted his head slightly. "I suppose I can’t make you have dinner with me even if I ask nicely."

The way he said it. Low, deliberate, challenging; sent a ripple of something down her spine.

He wanted to see how far she was willing to refuse him.

Vanessa held his gaze. "You can ask nicely? This, I must see."

A pause.

The air between them thickened.

Then Vincent chuckled softly, shaking his head.

"I have my ways, Prinsesa," he murmured.

It wasn’t an answer.

Before she could call him on it, he gestured toward the path leading away from the house.

"We are going to have dinner together, Vanessa."

Not a request.

A realization.

Vanessa hesitated.

Her instincts screamed at her to turn back.

But if she wanted answers, she had to stay close.

So, she followed him into the night.

And in the back of her mind, one thought wouldn’t leave her.

Vincent Viaqueza was a dangerous man to play with.

But the problem was, Vanessa had never been able to resist a challenge.

Vanessa should have refused.

She should have walked back to her room, locked the door, and pretended Vincent Viaqueza didn’t exist outside of the tangled web she was already caught in.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she found herself walking beside him, matching his unhurried pace as they made their way down a dimly lit path leading away from the estate’s main house. The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and the distant hum of cicadas.

Vincent, as always, seemed perfectly at ease. Hands tucked into his pockets, shoulders relaxed, his presence infuriatingly unbothered.

She, on the other hand, was very bothered.

"Am I supposed to be honored or concerned that you’re so insistent on my company tonight?" she asked, keeping her voice light.

Vincent smirked. "Why choose? I find the best things in life often come with a little of both."

Vanessa rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her with the slightest twitch.

The path curved, revealing an intimate outdoor dining setup beneath the pergola in the garden. A single lantern flickered on the table, casting a warm golden glow over two waiting plates of food. A bottle of wine stood unopened between them, condensation beading along its dark surface.

Vanessa blinked. "You planned this?"

Vincent pulled out a chair for her with an elegant flick of his wrist. "I anticipated it."

She hesitated. "And if I had refused?"

His smirk deepened. "Then I would’ve eaten alone, basking in the bittersweet taste of rejection."

She scoffed, shaking her head, but she slid into the chair, nonetheless.

Vincent took the seat across from her, pouring them each a glass of wine. The candlelight softened the sharp angles of his face, but it did nothing to dull the intensity in his eyes. He watched her with the same calculating patience he always did, but there was something else there too. Something more than amusement, more than challenge.

Vanessa guessed it was fascination, and the thought aroused her interest more than she wanted to.

Not because it unsettled her, because she liked it.

They ate in comfortable quiet for a while, the meal surprisingly simple. Warm bread, roasted vegetables, a perfectly seared steak. He didn’t press her with conversation, didn’t push for anything beyond the occasional knowing glance.

But then, just when she thought she might make it through the evening without letting her guard slip, he leaned forward slightly, his fingers tracing the stem of his wine glass.

"You keep looking at me like you’re still trying to decide what kind of man I am," he mused.

Vanessa’s grip on her fork tightened. "Maybe I am."

He arched a brow. "And?"

She exhaled, tilting her head. "I think you enjoy making it difficult to figure out."

A slow smile. "Or maybe you just don’t want to admit you already have."

Vanessa shook her head, laughing under her breath. "You really are insufferable."

Vincent leaned back in his chair, watching her with something that almost looked like satisfaction. "And yet, here you are, sharing dinner with me."

Vanessa didn’t have a retort for that.

Instead, she focused on the last sip of her wine, the warmth of it spreading through her chest. The air between them had shifted to lighter, easier. She was still wary of him, but in this moment, with candlelight dancing over his features and the world quiet around them, it was easy to forget the reasons why.

Vincent seemed to sense it too.

Because when she finally pushed her chair back, signaling she was ready to leave, he stood just as smoothly, walking with her back toward the estate.

They moved slower this time, neither of them rushing to end the night.

And then...Vanessa felt it before she fully registered it.

The soft, lingering press of Vincent’s lips against the top of her head.

It was fleeting. Barely there.

But her breath hitched anyway.

Her steps faltered.

Vincent didn’t say anything.

Didn’t move away too quickly, nor linger too long.

Just enough to not scare her off.

Just enough to make sure she noticed.

And when she turned her head slightly, uncertain, his voice was quiet.

"Goodnight, Vanessa."

Vanessa swallowed. "Goodnight, Vincent."

She didn’t look back as she walked away.

Didn’t let him see the way her fingers curled into fists, as if trying to hold onto something that was already slipping through them.

But as she closed the door to her bedroom, one thought echoed in her mind.

Vincent Viaqueza terrified her.

But not in the way she had originally feared. Because as the feel of his lips on her forehead continued to send ripples of excitement across her entire being,

She could not, for the life of her, remember why she got upset with the man anymore!

******