Chapter 33

VIVIANNE

It’s only been a week since Thanksgiving. Since Mr. Stryder—did that.

Between that and today being Momma’s birthday, I’m finding it difficult to function.

She should have turned fifty-two.

But instead, she’s gone.

I won’t get to call her. I won’t sing to her—both of us laughing as we swap old birthday stories.

Like when I was nine and Becca woke us up every hour with a double ear infection.

Or when I was twelve and Marcus tried to make her breakfast—only to set off every smoke alarm in the house.

It never failed—Momma’s birthday always brought bad luck.

I make a mental note to check in with Becca and Marcus later.

I insisted on working today, hoping it would distract me. But all it’s done is trap me with my thoughts.

Memories of my Momma.

I try to push them aside, but it’s useless.

Liam has been watching me closely all day, worry soft in his eyes.

I warned him this day was coming, but there’s no preparing for how memories can cut you open. No handbook on how to comfort someone walking through that pain.

I sniffle. Again. It must be the millionth time.

“Okay. That’s it,” Liam says, throwing his pen down and running a hand through his hair. “Viv, I love you, but I can’t work with you sitting there like—like ~that~.”

There’s no anger in his voice. No irritation. Just concern.

But all I hear is, ~Viv, I love you.~

The words loop in my head, warmth rising in my chest.

His shoulders sag.

I open my mouth, unsure of what to say, and wait—wait for him to look at me again.

“Go out there. Wait for my mom,” he says, eyes dropping to his desk. “You’re spending the day out of the office.”

I don’t argue. I grab a few crumpled tissues and do as I’m told.

Jenna looks up from her desk, her pretty green eyes narrowing as they scan me.

“What happened?” she asks, glancing past me, checking for listening ears.

“Liam’s kicking me out for a while,” I say.

“No. Something’s different.” Her tone sharpens. “What happened?”

“Which part?” I scoff. “The part where Liam’s father accosted me in his home? The part where I sat in Liam’s lap in a dimly lit car for almost an hour?

“Or when Liam said ‘I love you’—and I can’t think because I’m too focused on those words and the stupid warmth in my belly?”

I pause, breath catching. “Oh—and today’s Momma’s birthday. So yeah, I’ve been a crying mess too.” I let out a dry laugh. I feel ridiculous.

“Wow.” Jenna’s eyebrows shoot up. “Sounds like you’ve been…busy.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” I mutter, looking around the office for anyone nearby.

“We’re taking him down,” I whisper.

“What?” She leans in. “How?”

I tell her.

About the lawyer. The meetings with clients. The plan to strip him of his seat—of his power. Hopefully, it works.

Because if it doesn’t, there’s no telling what he’ll do to me. Or Liam.

Twenty minutes later, Steph appears at the end of the hallway. She walks right up to me and wraps her arms around me without a word.

I melt into her, my chest tightening with everything I’ve been holding in. When I finally pull back, she holds me at arm’s length.

“Okay, dear. We’re going out. We can talk about what a jerk my ex-husband is. Or you can tell me about your mother. Or both. Or neither.” She shrugs.

“I’m just going to say goodbye to Liam.”

I crack open Liam’s door. He looks up at me, studying me cautiously.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” he says, setting down the pen.

“Thank you,” I whisper, stepping toward him.

He slides his chair back, arms open.

I sink into his lap, his arms wrapping around me, his chin resting on my head.

“Your mom is kidnapping me,” I murmur into his chest.

I pull back, and for a second, the air between us shifts—heavy, electric.

“Really. Thank you, Liam,” I say, heading for the door.

“Viv.”

His voice stops me.

“I—”

“Spit it out, Liam,” I say, letting out a nervous chuckle.

“I broke up with Beth.”

He watches me, waiting.

My brain shuts down, spinning faster than I can keep up.

“That’s—uh—that’s good?”

Something glimmers in his eyes. I shut the door before I can see more.

My stomach turns—guilt, grief, and something dangerously close to hope tangling inside me.

~What am I doing?~

~What is he doing?~

I shake my head, trying to steady myself.

I push the thought from my head.

Three weeks left until the end of the contract.

Three weeks until I can do whatever I want. Until I don’t have to see Liam again if I don’t want to.

My heart aches at the thought.

~Liam broke up with Beth. ~

The thought blooms inside me like a slow, bright flame.

Because maybe—just maybe—there’s still hope for us yet.

***

Tonight is the gala. It isn’t about me—it’s about Liam, his company, and his future.

And I have a job to do. I’m arm candy tonight. That means no crying, no sulking.

Mr. Stryder is supposed to be there. Even with that looming, something tells me the night will be beautiful.

Things with Liam are different lately. He spends his nights at the penthouse again, like before. Before we ruined it. Before we gave in.

It’s strange, having him back like this. He even crawled into bed with me the other night, mumbling something about comfort.

I didn’t argue. I curled into him and fell back asleep.

“Viv, are you almost ready?” he calls from behind my door.

I’m not dressed yet, though I should be by now.

I’m still in my slip, my hair and makeup finished. The dress waits in its bag.

“Almost. Will you help me into the dress?” I call.

A pause, then the door creaks open. Liam steps inside.

I slip into the gown. He zips the side, his fingers gently grazing my skin, sending a chill through me.

He lingers close. I feel him behind me, steady and silent.

I want to lean into him. But I don’t.

We’re too close to the end of the contract. Too close to the end of…whatever this is.

I step away. “I’m ready.”

He swallows hard and opens the door for me. I giggle at his exaggerated bow and give a playful curtsey.

The red carpet stretches before us, lined with lights and cameras.

Liam steps out of the car first, his smile polished. He turns, offering me a hand.

Flashes erupt when I take it. I step out, blinking against the lights.

The venue is massive, bathed in silver and white with pops of color. Inside, twinkle lights float overhead, the room glittering with luxury.

We mingle. I stay close to Liam as he greets people and signs a few basket slips. I do my best to smile, to laugh, to be a polished partner.

Then I spot the Bahamas basket. I slip away, scribble my name and bid, then rejoin him.

My heart sings, thoughts of a beach vacation making me smile.

We walk toward the tables when I spot Mr. Stryder and Kimberly heading in our direction. I tense.

He leans in, kissing both my cheeks before addressing Liam. I try to hide my shudder.

Kimberly sneers at me, tightening her grip on her husband’s arm.

“Liam,” Mr. Stryder says, offering his hand.

“Father,” Liam replies, cool and clipped, ignoring his father’s hand.

“Looks like this year’s turnout will be larger than last year’s.” He surveys the crowd.

I lean into Liam. His arm finds my waist. My hand settles on his chest.

His lips catch my attention, keeping me enthralled as he talks to his father, his tone still untrusting and unwilling.

Kimberly watches us, her eyes sharp.

Mr. Stryder steps in slightly closer, voice low.

“So help me, Liam. I’m not going to argue this with you again. We’ve talked about it. I thought we’d reached an agreement. I won’t have you ruin this night.”

“You don’t have much choice, Father,” Liam says, jaw tight.

“If you so much as take one step in that general direction tonight, I will ruin your career, son.”

The word hits like a slap.

I entwine my fingers with Liam’s, giving a soft squeeze.

His father is such a jerk.

“So be it,” Liam says coldly. He pulls me away toward our table.

We don’t sit long before we’re circulating again, talking with guests, bidding on baskets, and grabbing drinks.

We return to our seats, and each course arrives like something out of a dream: a plate of fruit with strawberry glaze, shrimp and avocado salad, rich seafood chowder, a tart sorbet, perfectly cooked salmon over greens. And then dessert—a sampler tray with twelve tiny masterpieces.

Then the lights dim, and a voice calls for attention.

“And now, I would like to introduce you to the man who makes all of this possible. Mr. James Stryder.”

The room erupts into applause.

Mr. Stryder steps up to the stage.

“Hello, everyone, and welcome to our twenty-sixth annual charity gala,” he begins.

Everyone applauds again. I clap too, my smile plastered on.

After Mr. Stryder’s speech, Liam turns to me, offering his hand. “Dance with me,” he says, mischief swirling in his eyes.

Silently, I take his outstretched hand, heat running to my cheeks.

We drift to the dance floor,

And in that moment, I am completely certain: I’m deeply in love with this man.

He spins me and pulls me close.

Leaving him will be the hardest thing I’ll ever have to do.

Unless…unless I stay.

The thought startles me a little.

Laughter bubbles out of me as he spins me again, then catches me in his arms.

There’s a fondness in his eyes as he looks at me, making my knees weak.

It would be so easy to give in to this intoxicating feeling, to let go of the fears and the what-ifs and just let him in.

“Liam,” I breathe as he leans closer.

He smells like soap, cologne, and Liam. The scent floods my senses. Goosebumps rise along my arms.

“Viv,” he whispers, then his lips brush against mine. My eyes flutter closed. His hand slides to the back of my neck, holding me gently but firmly.

The world falls away.

Until—

“Liam!”

Beth.