Chapter 9

VIVIANNE

Jenna and I are surprisingly productive in finding something to wear to Liam’s dinner on Tuesday.

We spend the day shopping and getting our hair and nails done.

The nail salon might just become a weekly thing now that I can afford it. There’s something about having my nails done that makes me feel sexy and professional.

After shopping until we’re practically ready to drop, Jenna and I decide to call it a day.

By the time I get home, exhaustion clings to me like a second skin.

Shopping bags litter my floor, a reminder of the day’s success, but I don’t bother unpacking them. Instead, I head out onto the patio, look out over the city, and plop into one of the chairs.

My phone buzzes on the table next to me, but I’m not ready to get up yet. The city slowly disappears as my eyes start to close.

I shift in my seat before groaning with a long stretch, my phone buzzing again.

With another groan, I reach for the stupid thing and check the screen—then jolt upright.

My screen is lit up with twenty-four new text messages and fifty-six missed calls.

My stomach curls in on itself, flipping over.

I scroll through the missed calls—every single one of them from Liam.

Panic tightens my chest as I hit the call button. Is he okay? Did I miss something? Am I still going to have a job? The thought sends another trail of icy panic lacing through me.

“Hello?” His voice is sharp, almost angry.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry I—”

“I’m almost there. We’ll talk in a few.”

The line goes dead.

I wasn’t there. I wasn’t available when Liam needed me.

When he finally knocks on the door, I’m already rushing to open it, bracing myself.

He could be fuming. Or worse—calm and cold with that detached kind of anger.

~What if he fires me? ~The thought resurfaces. Oh God, please don’t let him fire me.

Liam stands at the door, looking like he always does, except for the deep scowl on his face.

“What the hell, Vivianne!” He’s yelling. Good. Yelling is good. It’s better than coldness.

“I—”

“Where the hell were you?! I needed you today!”

I flinch, his anger pulling me back in time for a moment.

A dark pit of rage coils in my stomach, rising fast.

How dare he come here and yell at me?

“I’m paying you to be at my beck and call. Dammit, Viv!”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“I had a very important client show up today, and I needed you.”

“I’m sorry,” I repeat, a little louder this time.

“‘I’m sorry,’” he scoffs. “Sorry doesn’t cut it. Sorry is a waste of my time.”

The dark pit inside me rears up, fed up now. I feel the anger take control.

“I said—” I try to take a breath, but all I can feel is the weight of old memories, of a scared little girl who never stood up for herself.

“—I’m sorry!” This time, I’m almost yelling.

Liam opens his mouth, but I don’t let him speak.

“I asked you if you needed me today! I asked if I could come in, and you said absolutely not.”

Recognition flickers in his eyes. His expression softens immediately, the anger losing its sharp edge.

“So, yeah. I ~did~ take the day off. And now here you are, yelling at me because I was busy and didn’t pick up the phone.”

Now I ~am~ yelling.

“But had I been in the office like I had wanted to be, this wouldn’t even be happening!”

His lips part like he wants to argue—but he doesn’t.

Because he knows I’m right.

He sighs. His posture shifts. His voice is softer now. “I’m sorry.”

The words settle between us, heavy in a way that lingers.

A bitter taste coats my tongue from all the sharp words and raised voices.

Liam exhales and shrugs awkwardly. “Want to order a pizza?”

I roll my eyes and stalk off to my bedroom to cool down.

There’s a soft knock on my bedroom door. I have half a mind to tell him to go away, to say I don’t want to talk to him again until he learns how to speak to people like…like people.

Tears silently fall down my cheeks, a lump forming in my throat.

Another knock. “Viv?”

I don’t answer, shrinking into myself.

“Vivianne?” The door cracks open. I turn my face away.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is soft from the doorframe. I hear the door click, and I can tell he’s in the room with me, the air charged with emotion.

“I don’t want to talk,” I croak.

“Please.”

He lets out a sigh. I turn to him, his back against the door, his head hung.

“I didn’t mean to yell at you like that. I—” He looks up, meeting my eyes, his gaze shimmering with familiar pain.

“My dad yelled too,” I say, sniffling.

Understanding blooms on his face as he takes a step forward, testing the waters. Then another, until he’s sitting softly beside me.

“He was a drinker. He was mad at the world constantly, but when he drank, he voiced it to us. Momma took the brunt of his anger, but sometimes it would spill over.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t know.”

We’re quiet for a moment, just sitting with each other.

“My dad didn’t drink. He didn’t really yell a lot either. He was just…mean.” His words are like weights. “I tried to be the one he was meanest to. I didn’t want Sarah or Jenny to feel like he made me feel.”

I touch his cheek, making him look at me, his eyes sad.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” I say. “And I’m sorry that I yelled at you.” Shame washes over me.

“I deserved it.”

His lips turn up slightly into a small smile, his hand covering mine.

***

After we talked and made up last night, we ordered that pizza and continued to talk things over for a while. In the end, I couldn’t stay mad at him.

He wasn’t entirely wrong.

He hired me to be available twenty-four/seven, and he ~does~ pay me to maintain that flexibility. But I hadn’t ignored him on purpose.

So, I let the yelling go and tried like hell to forget about it.

This morning, on my way in, I thought about the whole deal, second-guessing everything.

But the moment I step into the office, I catch a glimpse of Jenna, who is very clearly avoiding eye contact.

I walk past her, straight into Liam’s office, my gaze locking onto him at his desk, already deep in his work.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice something new in the room—a blob of color on the otherwise neutral space.

A deep gray lounger, sleek and inviting. My heart expands as I take it in.

“You got a couch?”

Liam glances up. “I got it for you. That’s why I didn’t want you in the office yesterday.”

“Thank you, Liam.”

It was just one comment; I think back to the joke I made about getting him a new couch.

I stride toward him and wrap him in a big hug, burying my face in his neck for a second before stepping back.

Without hesitation, I sink into the new couch, testing it with a little bounce.

It’s so soft and extra comfortable.

I could spend all day on this couch.

Liam’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “Are you ready for the dinner party tonight?”

“Yup. My outfit’s waiting at home on my bed.”

He nods, satisfied, and turns back to his work. I take that as my cue to do the same, but my mind is focused on the night ahead. Fake or not, this will be our first time really stepping into Liam’s world as a couple.

The rest of the day moves quickly.

The work is easy, and Liam seems to be in a good mood. The usual tension between us feels lighter, like the argument last night shifted something.

When he finishes up, we leave together, walking side by side through the lobby and out into the crisp evening air.

Liam slows as we reach the sidewalk, turning to face me. He looks like he’s debating something.

Before I can ask, he leans in, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek. His lips barely brush my skin, but the gesture is effortless—like it’s something we do all the time.

“See you soon,” he murmurs.

Then, without a word, he steps back, his usual confidence slipping back into place as he turns and disappears around the corner.

I stand there for a second, my cheek tingling from the touch of his lips. I shake it off and head home.

The moment I step inside, I push the day behind me and focus on getting ready. I slip out of my work clothes and pull my hair up into a loose, messy bun, letting a few strands frame my face.

Straightening the skirt of my dress, I take a long look in the mirror.

The deep green fabric hugs my figure in all the right ways. I adjust the band at my waist, playing with the crystal flower pin before smoothing the straps and the soft flow of the material.

My phone buzzes.

I pull it from my new clutch—one that matches my new dress—and check the screen.

Liam

I’m here

The ride takes about half an hour, and when we pull up, I can feel the tension rolling off Liam.

I lean toward him. “Are you nervous?”

He exhales, glancing at me. “Just a little. I’ve never brought a date to one of these.”

A small smile tugs at my lips. “We’ll be fine. We’re still new—nobody expects me to know your blood type or what time you were born.”

He chuckles, but there’s tension behind it. “I know, but these people are my friends, Viv.”

I offer him a reassuring smile and step out of the car, waiting as he collects himself.

When he joins me, he’s back to his usual self—all confidence and sex appeal.

The house is elegant, made of stone, and screams money. It’s large, with a big front stoop, two chairs, and a table poised off to one side.

A tall door made of mostly privacy glass stands before us—so tall I could put Jenna on my shoulders and still make it through without either of us ducking.

I’m a little excited to meet whoever this friend is.

I trace my hand along the stones as we walk up to the door, and Liam knocks.

A beat of silence.

Just as footsteps echo from the other side, he leans in, his breath warm against my ear

“Best behavior,” he murmurs.

I nod, swallowing down the nerves flowing through me.

It’s just a dinner party—a few handshakes, a little small talk, playing the role of the perfect date.

What could possibly go wrong?