Vivienne wasn't sure if it was the stress from the anonymous message or the tension between her and Damon that had her reaching for another glass of wine, but by the time she was nearing the bottom of her second bottle, she was feeling a warm, heady confidence she hadn't felt in ages.
The gala had left her exhausted. She'd spent hours playing the perfect wife, handling sly remarks from Damon's so-called friends, only to come home alone again. She couldn't stop thinking about him, about the strange pull between them that left her both infuriated and exhilarated.
And maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was just the frustration finally catching up to her, but she grabbed her phone and sent him a text before she could second-guess herself.
Vivienne: "Come over."
She didn't have to wait long. Only ten minutes later, a soft knock sounded at her door. Her heart skipped a beat, but she pulled it open, greeting Damon with an unsteady smile.
He looked her over, his eyes narrowing as he took in her flushed cheeks and slightly disheveled hair. "Vivienne. Are you…?"
She waved a dismissive hand, stepping back to let him in. "I might have had a few drinks. But I'm fine. Perfectly fine."
Damon closed the door behind him, his expression cautious. "You don't normally call me over after midnight. Is everything okay?"
She tilted her head, studying him with a newfound boldness. The wine had dulled her usual reservations, leaving only a burning curiosity—and a flicker of something more dangerous.
"Everything's fine," she replied, her voice softer now. She took a step closer, her gaze locking onto his. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you… about something important."
He crossed his arms, watching her with a guarded expression. "Go on."
Vivienne felt a surge of confidence, her inhibitions slipping away with each passing second. She reached out, placing a hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm. Damon's eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as he looked down at her.
"You don't need anyone else," she murmured, her voice low and almost teasing. "Not when you have a wife who can… meet all your needs."
Damon's eyes flashed with something she couldn't quite name, a mixture of surprise and intrigue. "Vivienne…"
But she wasn't finished. Her fingers traced slow, deliberate circles against his chest as she looked up at him, her lips curving into a sly smile. "You keep everyone at a distance, Damon. Even me. But isn't it exhausting, always pretending?"
He inhaled sharply, his hand moving to catch her wrist, stopping her. "You're drunk," he murmured, his voice strained. But he didn't pull away, and his gaze held a hint of something far less restrained.
"Maybe," she admitted, her smile widening. "But I know what I'm saying. You don't have to pretend with me, Damon. I'm already here, remember? Isn't that why you chose me?"
Damon's grip on her wrist loosened, his gaze flickering between her eyes and her lips. She could feel the tension building between them, thick and electric, and for a moment, she thought he might actually kiss her.
But then he stepped back, his expression hardening, breaking the spell. "Vivienne, this… whatever you're doing… it's a mistake."
Her heart sank, but she forced herself to keep her gaze steady, unwilling to let him see her disappointment. "Why? Because I'm not what you want? Or because I'm not what you expected?"
He let out a frustrated sigh, his hands clenching at his sides. "You're not supposed to be either," he replied, his voice barely a whisper. "This arrangement was never about… this."
"But it could be," she whispered back, taking a step forward, challenging him. "You might not trust anyone else, Damon. But I know you. And maybe… maybe I'm the only one who does."
He looked at her, a hint of something vulnerable flickering in his eyes, but he quickly masked it, his expression slipping back into its usual calm. "Vivienne, you don't know what you're asking for."
"Maybe not," she replied, a trace of defiance in her voice. "But I do know what I want."
They stood in silence, the tension between them palpable. For a moment, neither of them moved, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Finally, Damon let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair as he looked at her, his expression conflicted.
"Get some rest, Vivienne," he said quietly, his voice laced with reluctance. "We'll talk when you're… thinking clearly."
She watched him turn to leave, a strange ache settling in her chest. But as he reached the door, she found herself calling out to him, unable to stop herself.
"Damon."
He paused, his hand on the doorknob, waiting.
"Why did you really come tonight?"
He didn't turn, but she could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he hesitated. "You asked me to."
With that, he left, the door closing softly behind him.
Vivienne stood there in the quiet, the weight of his words lingering in the air. She realized, as the fog of the wine began to lift, that there was more to Damon Sutherland than she'd thought. And maybe—just maybe—there was more to their arrangement, too.
As she sank down onto the couch, a new determination filled her. She might be playing the role of his wife, but she wasn't going to let him keep her at arm's length forever. One way or another, she would find out who Damon Sutherland really was.
Vivienne sat in the quiet of her apartment, the faint scent of Damon's cologne lingering in the air, reminding her of how close he'd been. She sank back into the couch, feeling a mix of frustration and determination. Damon was a puzzle she couldn't solve—a man so controlled, so guarded, yet hiding something intense behind that cool exterior.
The wine buzz had faded, but her resolve hadn't. She wasn't some prop in his life, some convenient fixture to parade in public. If he thought she'd be content standing in his shadow, keeping her own emotions at bay while he held her at arm's length, he was sorely mistaken.
Her mind replayed his parting words, the quiet hesitation in his tone. He'd come because she'd asked him to, not out of obligation or duty but because, on some level, he'd wanted to be there.
And that was something.