Chapter 14

VIVIANNE

I look at myself, surprised by my reflection. My dark hair falls past my shoulders, longer than I remember. My skin has a warm glow, my cheeks slightly flushed. My lips, painted a delicate pink, curve into a smile.

The dress I chose is a deep blue, clinging to my figure in all the right places. It’s professional enough for dinner but still flattering, with a low swoop in the back that adds just the right amount of flair.

I smooth my hands over the fabric and reach for my earrings, fastening them as I take one last steadying breath.

When I step out of the closet, I find him sitting on the bed, fiddling with his sleeves.

The sight of him makes my breath hitch.

His button-up looks like it was stitched to him, the pale fabric a nice contrast to his tan skin. His pants, tailored just right, emphasize the strength in his legs.

Then there’s the light stubble on his jaw—just enough to make my stomach flip.

Our eyes meet for a moment. He takes his time looking me over, his gaze roaming from my heels to my dress, then back to my face.

The room suddenly feels charged, like a current humming between us.

“Wow,” he says at last. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, barely able to get the words out.

I shift on my feet. “So, where are we going tonight?”

“Down to a restaurant Kimberly likes,” he says, standing. “She swears they have the best food in town.”

I nod, giving myself one last check. “Do you think this is okay? Or is it too much?”

“No, it’s perfect,” he says, clearing his throat. He walks to the door, holding it open for me.

As I pass, his hand brushes lightly against my back.

Even that small touch sends warmth curling through me.

***

“Why aren’t we riding together?” I ask as Liam pulls out of the driveway.

He sighs. “Kimberly likes to have as much alone time with my father as she can before the three days of ‘fun’ start and he’s focused on anything but her.”

He lets out a dry laugh.

I frown, glancing at my hands. “I’m nervous about meeting her.”

“Don’t be,” he says, eyes on the road. “She’s okay. Or she should be to you, anyway.”

His answer confuses me a little, but I don’t ask anything else.

The rest of the ride is quiet, the low hum of the radio the only sound in the car.

When we pull up to the restaurant, Liam parks out front and steps out, circling around to open my door. His hand is warm as he helps me out, steadying me as I adjust my dress.

The building is stunning—large stones stacked seamlessly along the exterior, their soft neutral tones glowing under the dim golden lights.

Above the entrance, the name ~La Truffe Noire~ is displayed in bold black font.

The front is lined with lush green plants, their leaves rustling in the coastal breeze.

Liam doesn’t say anything, just takes my hand and tucks it around his arm. His grip is firm, grounding.

The more time we spend together, the less I think we’ll be able to walk away from this unscathed.

We’ve only been at this for a month, and we still have two to go.

How are we supposed to just walk away from each other as anything more than coworkers?

I push the thought down, shoving it into a box I don’t have time to unpack.

Inside, the restaurant is just breathtaking. The dim lights make it feel intimate, almost romantic.

The walls are painted dark gray and contrast beautifully against the sleek black carpeting.

Vines creep along one wall, their deep green leaves adding a touch of life to the space.

A woman stands behind a podium near the entrance, speaking softly on the phone and writing something on a notepad.

“Table for Stryder,” Liam says, his voice shifting into something cooler, more composed.

I recognize the tone immediately—it’s the one he uses when dealing with his father.

The hostess’s entire demeanor changes. She perks up and plasters a professional smile on her face.

“Oh! Welcome, Mr. Stryder.”

Liam shakes his head. “I’m not Mr. Stryder. I’m his son.”

Her smile falters briefly before she recovers. “Okay. Well then, welcome.”

“Has Mr. Stryder arrived?”

She flips through her clipboard and finds what she’s looking for. “Yes, he’s right over here.”

She leads us across the restaurant, weaving between elegantly set tables, until we reach a corner booth.

Mr. Stryder is already seated, a glass of deep red wine in hand. My stomach jumps. Not only am I headed right into the lion’s den—I’m putting my hand straight into its mouth.

Beside him is a beautiful woman who takes my breath away.

Her blonde hair is styled in long, soft tendrils, the rest pinned on top of her head in an intricate bun. Her icy blue eyes lock onto mine instantly, her thin lips curving into a big smile.

Her creamy skin is free of wrinkles, and she doesn’t look old enough to be Mr. Stryder’s wife.

I was expecting someone older, but she looks my age.

Liam pulls out my chair before sitting beside me

I glance down at the menu and freeze.

It’s in French.

I cast a sidelong glance at Liam and catch him eyeing me.

Leaning in, I whisper, “I can’t read French.”

A small smile forms on his lips. “Do you trust me?”

I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Okay. Do you want steak, chicken, pasta, or seafood?”

“Pasta sounds good, but I wouldn’t mind a steak.”

When the waitress returns, everyone orders drinks.

She lingers a little too long, her voice dipping just slightly as she speaks.

I try to ignore the pang of jealousy when he smirks, but he seems to sense it.

Instead of playing into her attention, he focuses on me, asking small, almost silly questions—what my favorite season is, if I could live anywhere in the world, where I’d like to travel.

He’s distracting me.

I appreciate it more than I want to admit.

As the orders are placed, I listen to the French rolling off Liam’s tongue.

“Pâtes crémeuses au surlonge.”

I have no idea what it means, but something about the way he said it is so attractive.

My stomach tightens, and it takes me a moment to breathe past the butterflies that take flight.

I turn my attention to Kimberly, forcing a smile. “So, Mrs. Stryder, you guys have a beautiful home here.”

She barely glances at me. “It’s a little small, and I think we should fire that maid. But it’s okay as a vacation home.” She laughs dryly.

I blink. I feel Liam tense beside me before he can thinly veil his irritation.

“Oh…well, I just love how the place feels so lived in,” I say, reaching under the table to take Liam’s hand.

She smirks, her eyes sharp. “Yes, well, we’re happy you could make it.”

Something in her tone tells me otherwise.

I shift in my seat, glancing at Liam. He doesn’t seem to notice my sudden discomfort.

His father steers the conversation toward business, and I let my mind wander.

Liam doesn’t notice that I’ve withdrawn, but he squeezes my hand and moves it to rest on top of the table. His touch is soothing, but my mind still feels distant.

I look away, focusing on anything but the conversation—right until I catch Kimberly staring at our hands. The moment our eyes meet, she quickly looks away, almost like a kid caught stealing from the cookie jar.

I return my attention to my plate, letting the conversation flow around me without truly engaging.

Then Mr. Stryder suddenly turns his attention to me.

“Ah, son, enough business. The girls don’t want to hear all this,” he says, resting a hand on my shoulder. “Isn’t that right, Vivianne?”

I swallow back the bile rising in my throat. When I glance up, Kimberly’s cold blue eyes are burning with quiet anger.

I shrug his hand off, swallowing again before giving the smallest nod.

“I don’t mind all that much,” I say, clearing my throat. I sit up a little straighter, putting more space between us.

Mr. Stryder drops his hand and shifts his attention to Kimberly, picking up hers instead. But her gaze remains intense and unnerving.

I look at Liam. His expression is carefully blank, but something flickers behind his cool gaze.

My lungs forget how to work for a moment. I take in the sharp cut of his jaw and the effortless confidence he carries.

“Well, anyway,” Mr. Stryder says, addressing Liam, “are you ready to see everyone tomorrow?”

Liam’s shoulders stiffen. “Of course.” His smile is tight.

***

“You did great tonight,” Liam says as we step outside the restaurant.

I exhale a breath. “I totally fell flat on my face.” I laugh a little, but it sounds forced.

“No, really. The fact that you’re still here? You did really great.”

I don’t respond. I can’t. The words catch in my throat.

Because I shouldn’t be here. Every fiber of my being tells me to run away—to get as far as possible from his dysfunctional family.

The memory of Mr. Stryder backing me against the office wall flashes through my mind, sending a fresh wave of nausea curling through my gut. The thought of being alone with him terrifies me.

I should tell Liam. I should have told him when it happened. But back then, it was all so new, and I had just gotten the job.

I glance at him, my chest tightening. Maybe I could tell Liam now. But if I did, he would want to leave. He’d drop everything—including his annual birthday plans—and just leave.

I decide then that I’m going to tell him. But not here. Not now.

Once the birthday celebrations are over. Once we’ve put at least an hour between us and that house.

Then, I’ll finally say the words.

And hope I’m not too late.