Chapter 18

VIVIANNE

The sound of my phone jolts me awake. I fumble for it, blinking away the haze of sleep. ~Jenna~.

I sit up, rubbing my eyes. We pick a place, and I stretch, shaking off the stiffness. The comfort of my bed calls to me, but I ignore it, standing to get dressed.

I pull on a white cami, a light denim jacket, and a knee-length black pencil skirt before heading to the bathroom. As I pull my hair up into a messy bun, I finally breathe.

For a moment, I stare at my reflection, searching for something—reassurance, maybe. A sign that I‘m okay. I nod once and step away.

In the kitchen, I grab a bottle of water from the fridge, twisting the cap open just as I hear Liam shift on the couch.

“Where are you going?”

His voice is casual, but he sounds worried.

I turn, meeting his gaze. “To dinner with Jenna.”

My tone is cool, but I’m having a hard time looking him in the face without blurting out the truth.

My stomach twists in knots, the words I wish I could say pooling at the edge of my mind, forgotten before they can form.

His gaze pins me in place, making me feel small. But then, he just turns away.

Like he’s searching for the right words and coming up just as empty.

***

As soon as I step into the restaurant, I spot Jenna sitting at the bar, her pretty blonde hair pulled to one side, clipped back with something glittery.

She sees me and pulls me into a hug. I sink into her shoulder, exhaling.

“Sit. Let’s get you a drink.” She waves down the bartender. I order, tapping the bar, my gaze drifting to her.

“Okay,” she says, looking back at me. “What’s going on?”

Something inside me cracks open. Τhe words spill out, and as I tell her what happened, I see the hurt in her eyes—for me, not just for what happened.

“What an asshole!” She takes a long drink, locking eyes with me. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” It comes out weak and uncertain.

“Are you going to break up with Liam because of his dad?”

“What?” My own shock startles me. I clear my throat and take a deep sip, enjoying the burn.

I want to tell her it’s not that simple, that we’re not a ~normal~ couple. But the lie—this lie—sits heavy in my chest, choking me. After everything that happened at Liam’s parents’ house, pretending feels impossible.

Tears burn my eyes, spilling before I can stop them.

“What’s wrong?” Jenna’s hand lands gently on my shoulder.

I can’t breathe. My lungs lock, the room starts to spin, and I can’t feel my hands.

I stand too fast, knocking over my stool.

Jenna startles as I turn and rush to the door, my stomach twisting.

Outside, the spinning stops. My breath starts to steady.

The door creaks open behind me.

“Viv?” Jenna’s voice is so soft, so concerned—it makes the guilt in my gut twist harder.

“I think I should go home,” I murmur, my throat tight. “I’m just still wrecked from visiting Liam’s parents.”

“Let me go with you, just to make sure you make it, okay?” She rubs my back, stepping away to call an Uber.

When the driver pulls up to my building, Jenna walks me to the door. She doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t press—and somehow, that makes it worse.

I watch her head back to the cab, her face full of concern I don’t deserve.

I head upstairs, my mind still murky and confused.

Inside, I immediately kick off my shoes and hear the low hum of the TV. Liam is still on the couch.

When I approach, he turns, and his face lights up

“Hey, Vivianne!” He stumbles to his feet, pulling me into a hug. The smell of alcohol assaults my nostrils.

I pull back. His glassy eyes and easy grin make my stomach feel queasy.

“Liam, you’re drunk.”

His voice drops, sultry and low. “Vivianne, you’re gorgeous.” He giggles. “Sorry, I thought we were stating the obvious.”

He tugs me in again, but I wrestle free, stepping back and putting a good four or five feet between us.

“Aww, don’t run from me,” he teases, and my insides quiver.

“Liam, we need to go to bed—sleep this off.”

He sways, shaking his head. I rack my brain, trying to think of a way to sober him up.

“Or take a shower,” I blurt.

His lips curl. “I like the way you think, Viv.” He winks—or tries to—then peels off his shirt and tosses it aside.

Before I can stop him, he’s heading toward the bathroom, belt clinking as he yanks it free and discards it.

Sighing, I follow. The sound of running water fills the space, and I freeze in the doorway.

“Come on, Viv,” he calls, turning away from me.

My eyes trace the chiseled muscles of his back before I snap myself out of it, fixing my gaze on the wall behind him.

He steps under the stream, water cascading over his skin. Our eyes lock. A slow grin spreads across his face before he closes them, one hand trailing down—gripping himself.

Heat rushes to my face, a flush I can’t hide.

I hear him let out a low moan, heat curling low in my stomach before turning to ice.

I can’t do this.

Keeping my gaze locked on his, I step forward, hand slipping around the glass. I crank the dial to cold.

The water turns ice cold instantly. Liam yelps, stumbling back, his breath catching in his throat.

I grab a towel, ready as he jumps out.

Before he can protest, I wrap him up and pull him toward my room. If I have to watch him, I’m going to do it from the comfort of my own bed.

He doesn’t resist, pliant as I guide him under my covers.

We’ve shared a bed for the past few nights. What’s one more?

I quickly change and climb in beside him. Settling in and scooting a little closer to Liam’s warmth, I feel his arm drape around my middle.

I suck in a breath, waiting.

“You smell good,” he mumbles into my hair, his voice thick with sleep and whiskey.

I freeze.

“Viv…everything about you is beautiful.” His hand shifts, tracing the line at my waist. “Beauty and the billionaire,” he murmurs, then smirks. “Sounds like one of those romance novels you pretend not to read.”

My pulse skitters like it’s trying to outrun the moment. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He can’t.

“Liam,” I whisper, a warning in my tone.

I turn toward him. Our noses brush. He’s ~so~ close. Close enough to make my head spin, close enough to make me forget every reason I shouldn’t do this.

“Can I kiss you?” he breathes.

I should say no. I should pull away.

But I don’t.

I can’t.

Despite everything—his father, the lies, the rules I swore I wouldn’t break—I want him.

And then, he moves in.

His lips find the corner of my mouth, slow and reverent, his tongue just barely grazing my skin, like he’s getting his first taste of something forbidden.

Like he’s savoring me.

And God help me…

I let him.

His lips brush mine—tentative at first, testing.

They’re warm, a little sloppy, tasting faintly of whiskey and heartbreak.

I know I should stop him. He’s drunk and this isn’t real—not really.

I breathe him in, my whole body going still.

And then I kiss him back.