The next day dawned bright and clear, but Vivienne felt as if a storm was brewing within her. After Damon's abrupt departure, sleep had eluded her, and the dawn light crept through her blinds, casting stripes across her face. She stared at the ceiling, her mind racing with possibilities, with questions that begged to be answered.
Deciding that moping around the apartment wasn't an option, she threw on a casual outfit—dark jeans and a fitted blouse—and headed to the office. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts about the gala and the unresolved tension between her and Damon.
As she entered the sleek corporate building, she was met by the usual hustle of the day. Employees were moving in and out, chatter filling the air, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the lobby. She nodded to a few familiar faces but kept her head down, focusing on the tasks ahead.
Vivienne had always been driven and organized, her work ethic a significant part of her identity. But today, her thoughts kept drifting back to Damon. What was his deal with Melissa? Why did it feel like he was hiding so much? The questions were frustrating, but she couldn't allow them to interfere with her responsibilities.
She settled into her office, the hum of the computer comforting her as she scrolled through emails. The day passed in a blur of meetings and phone calls, but her focus remained scattered. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, not just with her and Damon but with the entire world around her.
Around midday, her assistant, Jamie, popped her head into Vivienne's office. "Hey, you okay? You seem a little out of it today."
Vivienne looked up, forcing a smile. "I'm fine, just a bit tired, I guess."
Jamie stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "Tired? Or hungover? You went to that gala last night, didn't you?"
Vivienne chuckled lightly, knowing Jamie would read her too easily. "A little of both, maybe."
"Or a lot of it," Jamie teased, crossing her arms. "So, how was it? I heard Damon had a few of his old flames there."
Her heart sank. "What did you hear?"
Jamie shrugged, oblivious to the tightness in Vivienne's chest. "Just rumors. You know how it goes. They say he's still got ties to a couple of them, especially that Melissa. She's quite the piece of work, isn't she?"
Vivienne bit her lip, fighting the urge to share everything she felt about Damon's relationship with Melissa. Instead, she forced herself to take a deep breath. "Yeah, I've met her."
"Well, let's just say you need to keep an eye on her," Jamie advised, her tone suddenly serious. "She's not the type to let go easily. And Damon… he's a lot more complicated than he lets on."
Vivienne nodded, feeling a strange mixture of apprehension and curiosity. "I know. It's just frustrating."
"Look, if you ever need to talk or vent, I'm here for you. You know that, right?" Jamie said, her expression softening.
"Thanks, Jamie. I appreciate it."
As Jamie left the room, Vivienne leaned back in her chair, her thoughts swirling. She needed to confront Damon again. This time, she wouldn't back down.
Later that afternoon, Vivienne found herself pacing her office, her mind made up. She would call him, make it clear that she wouldn't settle for being a mere shadow in his life any longer. But as she dialed his number, her heart raced with anxiety.
The phone rang once, then twice, and when he finally answered, the coolness in his voice took her by surprise. "Vivienne?"
"Hey, can we talk? I mean really talk?"
"Is this about last night?" he asked, his tone cautious.
"Yes. I don't want to dance around it anymore, Damon. I need to know what's going on with you… with us."
There was a long pause, and she could almost hear the gears turning in his head. "Can we meet somewhere? This isn't a conversation I want to have over the phone."
"Fine. I'll come to your office."
"Give me an hour," he replied before hanging up.
Vivienne's nerves kicked into overdrive as the clock ticked down the minutes. She changed her outfit several times, wanting to look assertive yet approachable. When the hour finally rolled around, she grabbed her bag and headed out, determination coursing through her veins.
Arriving at Damon's office, she found his secretary, a sharp-eyed woman who regarded her with a hint of skepticism. "He's in a meeting, but I can let him know you're here."
Vivienne hesitated. "No, I'll wait. I'd prefer to catch him when he's free."
After a few moments of waiting, Damon finally emerged, his expression shifting from professional to something more personal as he spotted her. "Vivienne. Thanks for coming."
"Let's talk," she said, walking into his office before he could respond. The room was sleek and modern, a stark reflection of the man who owned it.
Damon shut the door behind them, the atmosphere instantly thickening. "What's this about?"
Vivienne squared her shoulders, meeting his gaze directly. "About us. About why I'm here and what this whole marriage really means."
He crossed his arms, leaning back against his desk, his expression guarded. "I thought we agreed to keep things professional."
"That's the problem, Damon!" she said, frustration bubbling over. "We're playing roles, pretending like this is just some contract arrangement, but it's not working for me anymore. I want to know what's really happening between us."
He studied her for a long moment, his eyes flickering with something—uncertainty, perhaps. "I thought we were clear. This is a mutually beneficial arrangement. Nothing more."
"Is that really what you want?" she challenged, stepping closer. "I know you've got a past. You can tell me that it doesn't matter, but I can see it does. And if you keep pushing me away, I won't just fade into the background."
"Vivienne—" he began, but she cut him off.
"I'm not afraid of whatever it is you're hiding. I'm not afraid of you." Her voice was steady, fueled by a mix of bravery and the lingering effects of the wine from the previous night. "If you think I can't handle the truth, you're wrong."
Damon's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching as he seemed to weigh his options. "You don't know what you're asking for. This isn't just about us. There are things—people—that could get complicated."
"Then let them get complicated. I'm in this with you, Damon. Don't you see? If you want me to be your wife, let's make this real. Stop hiding behind walls."
He exhaled sharply, the tension between them almost palpable. "It's not that simple, Vivienne. You don't know the whole story."
"Then tell me!" she urged, her heart racing. "Whatever it is, I can handle it. I'm done being afraid."
His gaze softened, and for a fleeting moment, she saw a glimpse of the man behind the mask—the man she was beginning to understand. But then he straightened, pulling back the wall he'd built around himself once again. "I can't. Not yet."
Vivienne's heart sank, frustration mingling with disappointment. "Then what are we doing here, Damon?"
He stepped closer, and for a moment, it felt like he might finally let her in. "I need time to figure things out," he said quietly. "This is new territory for me, and I don't want to drag you into it without knowing what I'm dealing with."
"I'm already in it, Damon. Whether you want me here or not," she replied, her voice firm. "So make a choice. Either let me in or let me go."
Damon's gaze locked onto hers, and for the first time, she felt a flicker of hope, mixed with uncertainty. He opened his mouth to say something, but just then, his phone buzzed on the desk, breaking the moment. He glanced at it, his expression shifting to one of irritation.
"Dammit," he muttered, grabbing the phone. "I have to take this. Just… think about what I said."
Before she could respond, he stepped away, the moment evaporating like mist. Vivienne stood there, frustration boiling inside her. She could feel the weight of unspoken words lingering in the air, the tension still crackling between them.
As she left his office, her mind raced with possibilities, but one thing was clear: she was not going to back down. She would push for the truth, no matter how long it took. She had to. For her own peace of mind and for whatever this was between them.
As she stepped out of the building, she was hit by a wave of determination. She wouldn't be just a contract wife. She was Vivienne Donovan, and she was ready to fight for what she wanted.
And what she wanted is her husband. In this contract no one would make me beg to get what I want.