Chapter 12

In the days following the masquerade, whispers of Celeste's debut grew louder. Vivienne heard them in the salons where fashionable ladies gossiped and in corridors where servants chattered. At a morning tea hosted by a friendly duchess, even genteel society ladies spoke in hushed excitement about the mysterious courtesan in red who had enchanted so many at the ball. Vivienne smiled and played the part of an amused bystander, but inside, unease coiled. Celeste was swiftly becoming the new fascination of the aristocracy.

That evening, Vivienne attended a private soirée at the opulent home of Lord Everhurst, a widowed earl known for lavish gatherings that quietly welcomed courtesans among the guests. Vivienne arrived draped in burgundy silk, hair swept up to expose the elegant line of her neck. She knew Alexander would be absent—tied up with political matters—but many other influential men would be present. It was an opportunity she could not miss, especially with Celeste on the prowl.

As she stepped into the gilded salon, Vivienne immediately spotted her rival. Celeste, in a dress of shimmering gold, stood amid a cluster of admirers, laughing as though she owned the room. Vivienne's jaw tightened. If Celeste was here, she intended to lure a new patron from among these men. Vivienne resolved that it would not be at her expense.

She glided through the crowd, bestowing warm greetings and light touches on familiar arms as she went. Soon she joined a circle of gentlemen, including Count Reynard—a loyal patron of hers. The Count's face brightened at her arrival. "My dear Vivienne, you outshine every lamp in this room," he flattered, kissing her hand.

"You are too kind, Count," Vivienne replied with a gracious smile. As they conversed, a ripple of attention passed through the assembly. Prince Amir, a distant cousin of the king, had just arrived. Known for his wealth and indulgences, the prince was exactly the sort of powerful benefactor any courtesan would covet.

Vivienne's eyes narrowed as she saw Lord Everhurst eagerly usher Prince Amir toward Celeste's glittering presence for an introduction. The prince's thick mustache twitched with interest as Celeste curtsied gracefully and began captivating him with easy charm. A pang of alarm shot through Vivienne. If Celeste ensnared the prince's favor, her own influence would be eclipsed overnight.

Excusing herself from Count Reynard, Vivienne moved closer to the prince and Celeste, under the guise of fetching a drink. She caught snippets of Celeste's dulcet tones and the prince's jovial laughter. Taking a fortifying breath, Vivienne decided on bold intervention.

She swept in with a soft, melodic laugh as though joining a delightful conversation. "Your Highness, what a joy to see you again," she purred, offering Prince Amir a respectful dip of her head. The prince turned, pleasantly surprised. "Lady Vivienne, the joy is mine," he boomed, clearly recalling their brief meeting weeks ago.

Vivienne lightly laid her hand on the prince's brocaded sleeve in greeting. Her touch immediately drew his focus from Celeste. "I hope you're finding Lord Everhurst's little gathering enjoyable?" she asked.

"Indeed, I am," the prince replied. "I was just making the acquaintance of Mademoiselle Celeste here. She was about to tell me of her time in Italy."

Vivienne gave Celeste a courteous smile, though her eyes were cool. "How lovely. Celeste, darling, you must regale His Highness later with that tale. But, Your Highness," she turned back to Amir, "I recall you have a keen interest in art. Lord Everhurst has acquired some... particularly intriguing paintings from Venice. Perhaps you'd let me show them to you?"

She lowered her voice conspiratorially, "They are kept in a more private gallery—I wouldn't want you to miss them. Quite scandalous, by reputation."

Prince Amir's eyebrows rose with curiosity and a spark of delight. Scandalous art was exactly the sort of temptation that appealed to him. "Scandalous, you say? How can I refuse such an offer?" He extended his arm to Vivienne.

Vivienne sensed Celeste bristle beside them. "Please excuse us, Mademoiselle," Vivienne said sweetly to her rival. Celeste's smile remained fixed, but a flash of frustration darkened her eyes as the prince eagerly led Vivienne away.

Vivienne guided Prince Amir out of the bustling salon, heart pounding with triumph. She cast a quick glance back to see Celeste watching their exit, her golden figure rigid with anger. Vivienne knew she had won this round, but she intended to secure a more permanent victory.

Instead of the public gallery, she brought the prince to a small music room off the main hall. It was empty at this hour, lit only by a few low-burning lamps. The moment the door closed behind them, Vivienne let her demeanor shift from gracious to sultry.

"Where are these paintings, my dear?" the prince asked, looking around in mild confusion.

Vivienne stepped close and ran a fingertip down the front of his embroidered waistcoat. "Art is everywhere if one knows where to look," she breathed. "Shall I show you?" Before he could respond, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his in a slow, promising kiss.

Prince Amir made a surprised sound that melted into a hungry groan. He pulled her against his broad body, clearly pleased by this turn of events. Vivienne parted her lips, letting him taste the hint of champagne on her tongue as she kissed him deeper. His hands roamed over her back, fumbling with the laces of her gown.

Vivienne broke the kiss with a soft chuckle. "Eager, Your Highness?" she teased, turning around. "Allow me." With practiced fingers she loosened the ribbons of her bodice, then guided his hands to finish the task. The prince needed no further prompting. He tugged until her dress slithered down, baring her shoulders and the upper swell of her breasts above her corset.

He let out an appreciative growl at the sight of her creamy skin. Vivienne slowly spun back to face him and pushed the corset down, freeing her full breasts into his view. The prince's eyes widened, and he dipped his head greedily. He took one sensitive peak into his mouth, suckling with enthusiasm. Vivienne let her head fall back, emitting a throaty moan of encouragement. She needed him dazed with lust.

Her fingers deftly worked open his belt and the front of his trousers. She reached in and wrapped her hand around his already stiff manhood. He groaned against her skin as she stroked him, his length pulsing hot and heavy in her palm. "Tell me, Highness," she cooed, lips against his ear, "do you still wish to hear the nightingale's song? Or shall I sing for you instead?"

Prince Amir shuddered, lifting his head with effort. "I suspect your melody will put hers to shame," he chuckled, voice thick. Vivienne rewarded him by sinking to her knees in one graceful motion, drawing his garments down and freeing his erection fully. The prince inhaled sharply at the sight of Vivienne kneeling before him, dark hair spilling over her shoulders, red lips parted.

She looked up at him, locking eyes as she extended her tongue to lick the velvety tip of his shaft. He cursed under his breath, one hand finding purchase in her hair. Vivienne took him into her mouth, slowly engulfing him with wet heat. She used all her expertise—hollowing her cheeks, swirling her tongue—as she bobbed her head in a steady rhythm. The prince's grip tightened in her hair and his breathing grew ragged. "Mon Dieu…you are talented," he groaned.

Vivienne felt a flicker of pride at his unraveling. She knew every moan, every shudder, was a point scored against her rival's ambitions. Increasing her pace, she sucked harder, taking him deeper until he hit the back of her throat. Prince Amir gasped and trembled, pulling her off abruptly. "Enough, or I shall finish too soon," he panted.

He urged her up and turned her around to face the wall. Vivienne braced her palms against the wood paneling as the prince hastily yanked her skirts up over her hips. She heard the rustle as he freed himself again, and then the hot prod of his tip seeking entry. Without hesitation, he pushed into her from behind, burying himself in her slick folds with a low grunt. Vivienne bit her lip hard to stifle a cry at the sudden fullness. He was not as gentle or patient as Alexander, but she had expected as much.

The prince set a rapid, unrestrained pace, his hips slapping against her backside. The room filled with the lewd sounds of flesh meeting flesh and Prince Amir's guttural moans of pleasure. Vivienne arched her back, doing her best to angle her body so he stroked her deepest spots. Despite the lack of tenderness, a raw pleasure coiled inside her at the rough take. Perhaps it was the thrill of victory and the illicit danger of coupling in a nobleman's music room that quickened her blood.

She reached between her legs to touch herself, fingers finding her swollen bud as the prince drove into her relentlessly. With practiced ease, she massaged in time with his thrusts, stoking her own fire. It did not take long; the forbidden nature of it and the memory of Celeste's furious eyes gave her an added spark. Vivienne's body tensed as a wave of heat swept through her. She clenched around the prince's thrusting length as she came, her silent cry pressed into her arm.

The sudden tight squeeze of her climax pushed Prince Amir over the edge. He thrust hard, burying himself to the hilt and erupting inside her with a shuddering groan. Vivienne felt his warmth flooding her depths. For a few moments, they remained joined, his forehead resting on her shoulder as he caught his breath.

Finally, Prince Amir withdrew and stepped back, fastening his trousers with sated clumsiness. Vivienne smoothed her skirts down over her legs and retrieved her fallen bodice, pulling it back up over her breasts. Before she could redo her laces, the prince turned her around and planted a sloppy, grateful kiss on her lips. "Marvelous, my dear," he sighed. "I've seldom had such a treat at a mere house gathering."

Vivienne smiled coyly and dipped into a slight curtsy, holding her dress against her chest with one arm. "I am delighted you enjoyed the preview, Your Highness. There is more to be had…should you desire my exclusive company in the future." Her implication was clear: she would welcome him as a patron.

Prince Amir beamed, adjusting his coat. "Indeed. We must arrange something very soon. Consider me at your service." He gave a last admiring glance at her half-dressed form, then reluctantly offered his arm to lead her back. Vivienne allowed him to escort her into the corridor, pausing to ensure her gown was refastened enough to appear decent.

They returned to the main salon where the sounds of a string quartet signaled the evening's entertainment had begun. Celeste stood near the musicians, her expression composed but her eyes immediately finding Vivienne and the prince emerging together. Vivienne's cheeks were still flushed from exertion, but she lifted her chin proudly and whispered something that made the prince laugh as they rejoined the crowd.

Celeste's smile tightened as Prince Amir, with a courteous bow, excused himself to speak to Lord Everhurst. Vivienne drifted past Celeste, and in passing, their skirts nearly brushed. "How generous of you to allow me a dance with His Highness," Vivienne murmured sweetly, just loud enough for Celeste to catch the taunt. Celeste's eyes flashed, but before she could respond, Vivienne had already moved on, a picture of serene confidence.

Later that night, long after the soirée ended, Vivienne returned to the discreet townhouse that served as her sanctuary. She was tired but satisfied—her gambit with the prince had been successful. A sealed note awaited her on a silver tray in the foyer, left by a courier. Vivienne opened it curiously, expecting perhaps a message from Prince Amir or another admirer. Instead, her blood chilled as she read the few words written in an elegant, unfamiliar hand:

"I know what you are. No mask can remain forever. –L."

Vivienne's heart pounded. The note bore no signature, only a wax seal stamped with an ornate "L." It could only be from one person: Marquis Lucien de Montfort, a name she had hoped never to see again. Fingers trembling slightly, Vivienne crushed the note in her hand. The walls seemed to close in around her.

A new threat had slithered into her life, more dire than a courtesan's rivalry or a prince's favor. As Vivienne climbed the stairs to her chambers, she forced herself to take steady breaths. She had risen far, entangling herself with powerful men and playing dangerous games. But with Lucien's ominous message, the past she had kept hidden was catching up, promising consequences that could ruin everything.

Vivienne steeled herself and lifted her chin. If the Marquis thought to intimidate her, he would soon learn that she was no frightened girl, but a woman who had mastered the art of survival. Still, as she prepared for bed, the darkness felt heavier. The stakes were climbing higher, and by the flicker of her bedside candle, Vivienne swore she would not fall without a fight.