Chapter 11

Vivienne glided through the candlelit ballroom with effortless grace, a silver mask concealing half her face. The masquerade was alive with music and laughter, nobles and courtesans mingling under the guise of anonymity. Silk and brocade whispered as dancers moved, and Vivienne's sapphire satin gown drew admiring eyes. She felt those gazes and reveled in them, using each appreciative glance as fuel for her confidence.

A lilting laugh drew her attention. Across the room, encircled by eager aristocrats, stood a woman in a daring crimson gown and a peacock-feathered mask. It was not the mask that captivated—but the aura of raw sensuality she projected. Vivienne's stomach tightened. Whispers had already reached her about a newcomer turning heads among the elite: Celeste, a courtesan whose allure was fast becoming the talk of high society.

Their eyes met across the crowd. Vivienne offered a polite smile and a slight nod, one courtesan acknowledging another. Celeste's lips curved in response, but there was challenge in her gaze. In that silent exchange, Vivienne understood that this stunning rival recognized exactly who she was. A prickle of warning danced down Vivienne's spine even as she maintained her poised facade.

An elegant gentleman in a midnight-blue suit approached Vivienne and bowed, hand outstretched in invitation. It was Lord Alexander, the Duke who had long been captivated by her. "May I have this dance?" he asked, voice warm with familiarity despite the night's playful disguises. Vivienne placed her gloved hand in his, allowing him to lead her into the waltz.

They swept onto the dance floor, Alexander's strong arm encircling her waist. Through the thin silk of her gown, she felt the possessive press of his palm. "You are a vision tonight," he murmured near her ear. His breath tickled her neck, sending a pleasant shiver through her. Vivienne tilted her head up to meet his eyes behind his simple black mask. "Your Grace flatters me," she replied softly. She let her body meld with his as they moved in perfect time to the music.

As they twirled, Vivienne's thoughts drifted to the crimson figure of Celeste holding court. Alexander noticed her distraction and followed her gaze. "The new enchantress has made quite an entrance," he commented, a hint of tension in his tone. Vivienne's fingers tightened slightly on his shoulder. Jealousy and unease coiled in her belly. "She is charming, to be sure," Vivienne answered lightly, then turned her face fully to him, letting the ballroom's glow light the emerald of her eyes. "But none can compare to you," Alexander said quietly, as if reading her unspoken worry. Relief and pride warmed Vivienne's chest. He spun her in a graceful turn, and she allowed herself to surrender to the dance and the warmth of his embrace, pushing thoughts of the rival courtesan aside.

When the waltz ended, Alexander guided Vivienne off the floor. A raucous burst of laughter rang out near the champagne table—Celeste again, playfully tapping a young baron's chest with her fan as the men around her roared with laughter. Vivienne felt her jaw clench. Celeste was clearly making an impression, the men practically circling her like wolves.

Sensing Vivienne's tension, Alexander leaned close. "Shall we take some air, my dear?" he suggested gently. Vivienne nodded, forcing a soft smile. With a protective hand at the small of her back, the Duke led her out of the bright ballroom, through a side door into the cool night.

They stepped into a private garden bathed in moonlight and the scent of jasmine. Under the shadow of ivy-draped columns, Alexander turned to Vivienne, lifting her hand to his lips. He pressed a tender kiss to her knuckles, then to the inside of her wrist where her pulse fluttered. "You seem...distracted tonight," he said in a low voice.

Vivienne met his concerned gaze. He was handsome in the moonlight—dark hair touched with grey at the temples, eyes of deep blue that searched hers. He had been generous and ardent, a key benefactor who elevated her standing. She could not afford to lose his favor. Vivienne gave a soft, dismissive laugh and stepped closer, pressing her body to his. "The only distraction is the thrill of the evening, Your Grace," she purred, sliding a finger along the embroidered lapel of his coat. "All these masks and mystery... it makes my heart race."

Alexander's arm tightened around her waist. "Is that so?" he murmured. With a swift motion, he tilted her chin up. Vivienne inhaled sharply as his mouth claimed hers, the kiss deep and hungry. Her eyelids drifted shut. Here was passion she could control—a man of power made weak by desire for her. She answered his kiss with equal fervor, nipping at his lower lip before soothing it with her tongue.

He groaned softly and pressed her against a marble pillar. Vivienne arched into him, her breasts brushing his chest through layers of silk and linen. Anyone could wander into the garden, yet the risk only heightened her excitement. Alexander's lips trailed hotly down her throat. His hand gathered the skirts of her gown, fingers gliding up her stockinged calf to the warm skin of her thigh. Vivienne gasped, heat pooling between her legs as his touch climbed higher.

She caught his wrist gently. "Not here," she whispered, though her voice quivered with longing. If they were discovered, the scandal would be ruinous. Alexander's breath was ragged; she felt the evidence of his desire hard against her hip. After a strained pause, he nodded. His eyes burned with need even as he strove for restraint.

Taking her hand, he led her further from the ballroom's glow to a secluded pavilion hidden among the hedges. The moment they were concealed in darkness, propriety gave way to urgency. Alexander pulled Vivienne into his arms and captured her lips again with fierce desire. She met his hunger with her own, fingers tangling in his hair as their tongues danced. He tasted of champagne and longing, a flavor she could never tire of.

Vivienne's back pressed against the pavilion's stone railing. Alexander's hands were everywhere at once—caressing her waist, cupping her breast through her gown, then tugging down the fabric to bare her. Cool air pebbled her exposed skin before his hot mouth closed over her nipple. Vivienne bit back a cry, one hand flying to her mouth to stifle the sound as pleasure jolted through her.

His hand slipped under her ruffled skirts, sliding up to find the damp heat at her center. When Alexander's fingers grazed her slick folds, a tremor of need rocked her. "My god, Vivienne," he breathed, groaning at how ready she was. He circled her sensitive bud slowly, teasingly, making her hips roll towards his hand. She was losing herself in sensation—but Vivienne was not one to remain passive. Through the haze of desire, she reached between them and found the rigid length straining against his trousers.

Alexander gasped at her bold touch. Vivienne deftly unfastened his breeches, freeing his hardened flesh into her palm. She stroked him, marveling at the silky hardness, at the power she held to make this formidable duke shudder. His forehead pressed to hers, eyes shut in bliss as she pleasured him.

"Vivienne," he groaned, voice rough. The sound of her name on his lips, thick with need, sent a fresh wave of arousal through her. Aching to have him, she guided him to her entrance. In one smooth thrust he sheathed himself inside her. Both of them cried out softly at the overwhelming pleasure of joining. He filled her completely, stretching her around his girth in a way that was as much sweet pain as it was ecstasy.

Alexander gripped her hips and began to move, each slow withdrawal followed by a deep, claiming surge forward. Vivienne clung to his shoulders, wrapping one leg high around his waist to pull him closer. The pavilion swayed around them; her world narrowed to the exquisite friction and the duke's ragged breath at her ear. Every thrust rubbed a spot deep inside that made Vivienne whimper and see stars.

She felt her peak building quickly, her body tightening with each driving stroke. Alexander must have felt it too; he slipped a hand between them to rub her swollen nub in quick circles as he drove into her. The dual sensation proved too much. Vivienne's release crashed over her in a hot, wild rush. She buried her face in his neck to muffle her cry as waves of bliss pulsed through her, her inner walls clenching rhythmically around his manhood. With a hoarse groan, Alexander found his own climax. He bucked against her, spilling his warmth deep inside as he held her trembling body tightly.

For a long moment they remained entwined, foreheads touching, their breaths mingling in the cool night air. Vivienne felt his heart hammering as fiercely as her own. Gently, Alexander brushed a stray curl from her face and pressed a soft kiss to her temple. "You intoxicate me more than any wine," he whispered.

Sated and flushed, Vivienne allowed herself a small smile of triumph. His passion had reaffirmed that she still reigned supreme in his heart and in his bed—Celeste's sudden arrival notwithstanding. As they adjusted their clothing and steadied themselves, she silently vowed that no rival would steal what she had fought to attain.

They returned arm-in-arm to the ballroom's edge, composing themselves before re-entering the light. Vivienne cast a glance upward and noticed Celeste on a balcony overlooking the garden. Even behind the golden mask, Celeste's posture was stiff, her focus unmistakably on them. She had noticed Vivienne's absence with the Duke—and perhaps guessed what had transpired in the shadows below.

Vivienne met the other courtesan's stare, neither woman looking away. A subtle understanding passed between them under the veneer of civility. They were players in the same dangerous game of desire and influence, and the stakes had just been raised.

Resting her hand on Alexander's arm, Vivienne allowed herself a confident smile as they stepped back into the glow of chandeliers. Celeste might be a rising star, but Vivienne had no intention of ceding her sky. The night's revelries continued, but for Vivienne, the real dance—of power, seduction, and survival—had only just begun.