Chapter 5

VIVIANNE

The office is quiet as I sit across from Liam, picking at breakfast. Tension simmers beneath the surface.

“So, how do we do this ~not~-dating thing?” I joke, trying to lighten the mood. “Do I just sit in your office all day and look pretty?”

Liam barely reacts—his father’s visit weighing heavily on him.

When Mr. Stryder arrives, the mood shifts instantly.

I recognize him as the man Liam was walking with when we first met. Sharp-eyed, silver-haired, and commanding—like Liam but older, colder. He’s handsome—or he would be, if he weren’t wearing a permanent scowl.

“Father,” Liam says, striding forward to shake his hand. “How are you?”

I shift awkwardly, suddenly hyperaware of my presence in the room.

A nervous laugh escapes me. “Oh gosh, it’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Stryder,” I say, reaching out to shake his hand too.

He looks at me strangely, and I scoff a little. “Oh, I’m sorry, my name’s—”

“Father, this is my girlfriend, Vivianne Pierce,” Liam says smoothly, cutting me off.

“Ah,” Mr. Stryder replies, glancing between us. “Well, isn’t that nice?” A small, forced smile forms, and an instant dislike settles in my gut.

“Maybe we can take this out of the office and have lunch?” I offer, trying to defuse the tension.

Liam doesn’t falter. “That sounds great. What do you say, Father? Lunch?”

Mr. Stryder nods curtly and strides out of the office. We follow, Liam’s fingers slipping between mine as we walk.

As we pass Jenna’s desk, she raises an eyebrow, then frowns.

I squeeze Liam’s hand twice for support as we head to a meeting with the devil himself.

We ride in silence to the Golden Palace. Inside, we take a table by the window.

Liam and his father talk business while I marvel at the elegance of the place.

He orders something fancy for each of us, and when the dishes arrive, the rich smells make my mouth water.

The garlic shrimp pasta is divine. I lose myself in the food until Mr. Stryder cuts in.

“Son,” he says sharply.

Liam immediately straightens.

“I don’t like her.”

My mouth falls open slightly.

Liam’s features tighten, something dark crossing his face.

“Father,” he warns.

“No, son, listen to me. I told you to go find a wife, not some hot piece of ass.”

“That’s enough.”

Liam shoves his chair back, the legs scraping loudly against the floor. He tosses his napkin onto the table and moves around to me, pulling out my chair.

“We’re done here, Viv.”

I glare at Mr. Stryder, my expression cool as I let Liam take my hand and lead me out.

Outside, he doesn’t stop until we’re at the curb. He hails a cab—jaw clenched, eyes dark.

I don’t fight him on it. I just slide in and wait for him to talk.

I won’t push him, not about this.

“Sorry,” he grumbles.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” I say, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“He called you a hot piece of ass, Vivianne. I ~definitely~ have something to apologize for.”

I turn to the window, my mind drifting back to the days when I used to apologize for my own father.

I push the thought away and refocus on Liam.

Taking his hand, I squeeze it, holding on until we reach the building.

Inside, Liam laces our fingers again as we walk to his office.

I sink into the chair and grab the file I was working on before lunch, trying to distract myself from Liam’s stupid father.

It didn’t bother me—not in the moment, and not because of what he called me.

It was the fact that he didn’t ~know~ me and still had the gall to say it.

I flip through a few more folders before a buzz comes through the intercom.

“Your next appointment is here,” Jenna announces.

“Send him in.”

I lean down, lowering my voice. “Should I go?”

“You don’t need to stay if you don’t want to,” he says as the door opens.

I excuse myself, pressing a small kiss to his cheek before heading to Jenna’s desk.

“Hey, Jenna,” I say, flashing her a smile.

She returns one, but it’s guarded.

“Hi, Viv. What can I do for you?”

I tilt my head, noticing the shift in her tone. “Everything okay?”

Jenna hesitates. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

I don’t believe her, but I don’t push.

“I’m heading to the coffee shop to grab some for Liam and myself. Would you like something?”

She blinks, surprised. “Uh, actually, yes.”

She gives me her order, and as I turn to leave, I pause. “Hey, if there’s something up, you can talk to me, okay?”

Her lips part slightly, as if she’s about to say something, but she nods instead.

When I return, I set her coffee on her desk with a smile. “Here you go.”

She raises the cup until the lid touches her nose and inhales deeply. A small smile crosses her lips.

I walk back to Liam’s office and find him lounging, legs crossed at the ankle, feet propped on his desk.

Across from him now sits Mr. Stryder.

I move past him, handing Liam his coffee before pressing a light kiss to his hair.

“I just wanted to drop this off for you,” I say, watching him.

There’s something there—in the way his eyes soften when he looks up at me.

“Stay, Vivianne, please.” Liam gestures to the seat beside his father, his voice quiet, almost gentle.

I sigh, offering a small smile before stepping around the desk. As I pass, Liam’s fingers brush mine—a brief touch, but enough to send goosebumps up my arm.

With a steady breath, I take the seat next to Mr. Stryder, schooling my expression.

He turns to me, his eyes bouncing between Liam and me before he offers a feigned apology—no doubt to appease his son.

The hollow words seem to work as they fall into easy conversation. I could interject—maybe even help—but I don’t.

I’ll have to remember to ask Liam later—what am I allowed to say or do in front of Mr. Stryder? Can I comment on business?

Instead, I just listen. There’s nothing familial about their conversation.

My mind drifts—to what’s at stake if I were to call Mr. Stryder out for his earlier insult and that empty apology.

I think of my momma back home, my sister, my brother, and his beautiful baby boy—what this money could do. Not just for me, but for them.

Liam clears his throat, snapping me back.

Mr. Stryder stands, offering him a handshake.

Liam takes it but barely looks at him.

Then Mr. Stryder turns to me. “It was very nice to meet you. I apologize again for my…comment earlier. You’ll have to forgive me. I want what’s best for my son.”

His features are unreadable.

I force a smile. “I’ll walk you out, Mr. Stryder.”

I glance back at Liam, offering a confident smile before stepping out behind his father.

Screw staying silent. Screw playing nice.

As we near the elevator, I break the silence. “I have a college degree,” I say, my voice steady. “In business.”

He lifts an eyebrow, a flicker of curiosity in his sharp gaze.

“I’ve worked since I was sixteen. I grew up in a small town. I moved here to start a life. And I aspire to be a lot more than a ~hot piece of ass~.”

We slow to a stop in the empty hallway.

Mr. Stryder watches me, making my skin crawl. If he were to crucify me right here, nobody would know.

A small smile curls on his lips as he steps closer. I instinctively move back—and then again.

A chill runs down my spine as my back hits the wall.

“Mr. Stryder, I am so—” I begin, but the words catch as he lifts a hand and brushes a finger along the sleeve of my dress.

“You’re quite the woman, Vivianne.” His voice drops, just enough to make my skin crawl.

I stiffen. “I should get back.”

He doesn’t move. His fingers ghost along my arm, slow and deliberate.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want it,” he murmurs. “I can give you what my son can’t. A ~real ~man.”

Revulsion twists in my gut. I press back against the wall, heart hammering.

“Don’t touch me,” I say, my voice sharp and unwavering.

Someone softly clears their throat, breaking the moment.

Mr. Stryder lingers for another beat, then straightens, smoothing a hand over his tie like nothing happened.

As he turns, his fingers graze through my hair.

I stay frozen, my entire body taut, breath shallow.

A gentle hand rests on my shoulder, and I flinch.

“Are you okay?” Jenna’s voice is soft, careful.

I smooth my dress, willing my hands to stop shaking.

“I’ll live,” I say breezily. “What I really need is a new wardrobe for this job of mine. Feel like helping me spend a ridiculous amount of money?”

A small smirk tugs at her lips. “On Liam’s dime?”

“Of course,” I say, flipping my hair. “Consider it a perk of the job.”

But as we walk back toward the office, my mind is far from coffee or clothes.

It’s on Mr. Stryder’s lingering touch.

And the camera mounted just above the elevator.