Chapter 13

The following night, Vivienne arrived at the secluded address that Marquis Lucien de Montfort had indicated in a second, more explicit note. The message had been clear: meet him at a private townhouse he owned on the edge of the city, or he would ensure that "all of Paris learns the truth of Vivienne LaVert's identity." The threat in those words forced her hand. Disguising her dread beneath a heavy cloak and veil, she slipped out without telling a soul, not even her maid.

The townhouse was dim and silent as she entered. A single oil lamp burned on a side table in the foyer, casting flickering light over rich furnishings. Vivienne's heart pounded. She had known Lucien years ago, when she was a far more vulnerable creature and he a less influential man. Their last encounter had ended with her fleeing his advances—and him vowing she would regret it. Now he had risen to the rank of Marquis, and clearly he had not forgotten her defiance.

Vivienne inhaled deeply, steadying herself. If she was to face this vengeful nobleman, she would do it on her terms as much as possible. Summoning her poise, she swept back her hood and stepped into the lamp's glow. "Marquis? I am here, as you requested," she called softly.

From the shadows, a tall figure emerged in an emerald-green coat. Marquis Lucien's face came into view—sharp cheekbones, cold slate-gray eyes, a cruelly handsome mouth curled in a faint smirk. "Vivienne," he drawled, voice smooth as silk and twice as dangerous. "Punctual as ever. How gracious of you to accept my invitation."

Invitation. The word slithered off his tongue with mockery. Vivienne lifted her chin, determined to hide her fear. "You gave me little choice," she replied calmly.

Lucien stepped closer with a predatory grace. "There is always a choice, my dear. You could have ignored my note, but then by morning I'd have such delicious gossip to share with the city." He picked up the lamp, raising it to cast light on her face. His gaze traveled over her features, and Vivienne resisted the urge to flinch. "I must say, you've only grown more lovely since last we met. High society has been kind to you."

"What is it you want, Lucien?" Vivienne asked, keeping her tone level. "Why summon me like this?"

He set the lamp down. "Straight to the point—very well. I wanted to see for myself if the famed courtesan of Paris still remembered an old acquaintance." He began to circle her slowly, like a wolf appraising prey. "You've done quite well, reinventing yourself under a false name, seducing dukes and even princes, all while hiding your past. Impressive." He stopped behind her, and she felt his breath against the back of her neck. "Impressive, but precarious. It would be such a pity if all those fine lords learned exactly who and what you are."

Vivienne's hands clenched around the folds of her skirt. "You've made your threat clear. I'm here. What do you intend to do?"

Lucien moved to face her again. He reached out, and to her shock, gently lifted a lock of her hair that had fallen from her pins. He twisted it around his finger in a mockery of an intimate gesture. "I intend," he said softly, "to take what I was denied years ago. I intend to have you, Vivienne. Completely and on my terms."

Vivienne forced herself to hold his gaze. "You want me as your mistress," she stated, her voice betraying nothing.

"I want you at my beck and call," he clarified with a chilling smile. "Body and loyalty mine alone. In return, your precious secret stays safe. Refuse, and I will dismantle the pretty little life you've built, piece by piece."

A tremor of anger mingled with her fear. "And if I agree… what guarantee do I have that you'll keep your word?"

His smile widened a fraction. "You don't. You'll simply have to trust that I value having you under me more than ruining you." Lucien brushed the backs of his fingers along her cheek. "It's simple, really. Serve me, and I protect you. Defy me, and I destroy you."

Vivienne felt a wave of helpless fury. He had engineered this situation so neatly. But she had survived too much to crumble now. Suppressing her revulsion, she gave a small, acquiescent nod. "You leave me no honorable choice. If this is the price of your silence… then so be it."

Triumph lit in Lucien's eyes. His hand slid to her chin, tilting her face up. "Wise decision." His voice dropped to a hungry whisper. "Undress."

Vivienne's stomach churned. Still, she reached for the tiny hooks at her throat with numb fingers. She would not let him see her dread. As she began to loosen her bodice, Lucien stepped back and settled into a high-backed chair, watching her with predatory expectation.

Her cloak had already been cast off. Now, with steady movements, Vivienne removed her gloves and let them fall. She unfastened the front of her simple grey dress, eyes fixed on a point on the wall rather than on his face. When the gown loosened, she let it drop to the floor, stepping out of the puddle of fabric. Beneath, she wore a lace-trimmed chemise and petticoats. She hesitated, arms instinctively crossing over her chest.

"All of it," Lucien murmured. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, enthralled by the slow reveal.

Vivienne's cheeks burned with shame and anger, but she obeyed. She untied the drawstring of her chemise and slid the soft linen off her shoulders. It whispered down her body, baring her to the waist. Her breasts, pale and full, were exposed to his avid gaze. She paused, breathing shallowly.

Lucien's tongue wetted his lips. "Come here."

She walked toward him on unsteady legs. He caught her wrist when she was within reach and pulled her down onto his lap. Vivienne bit the inside of her cheek to maintain composure as his hands closed greedily over her breasts. He kneaded them, thumbs brushing over her nipples until they peaked unwillingly.

"You always were exquisite," he murmured, pinching one nipple just enough to make her gasp. He chuckled. "So sensitive… Perhaps you remember how you teased me once, hmm? Playing innocent only to slip away. Not this time."

He seized her mouth in a hard kiss. Vivienne stifled a whimper and forced herself to respond, parting her lips under his assault. His tongue invaded, claiming her mouth possessively. She tasted wine on him, and an underlying bitterness that mirrored his personality.

Lucien broke the kiss and stood abruptly, pushing Vivienne onto her knees on the carpet. "Show me what your lovers enjoy so much," he ordered, opening the front of his trousers. His arousal jutted forth, already rigid with anticipation.

Vivienne swallowed her resentment. Better to play along than provoke his cruelty. She mustered a sultry look and wrapped her fingers around his shaft. He exhaled sharply at her touch. Forcing herself to behave as if this were any other man, she leaned in and traced her tongue along his length, from base to tip.

"Good," he groaned. "More."

She took him into her mouth, inch by inch, hollowing her cheeks as she had done countless times in her profession. Lucien sighed and tangled a hand in her hair, controlling her pace. Vivienne focused on the motions, willing it to end quickly. She bobbed her head, sucking diligently. His curses and low moans told her he was near release.

But just as she sensed his climax approaching, Lucien abruptly yanked her off by her hair. She winced at the sting on her scalp, blinking up at him in confusion.

"Not yet," he panted, eyes dark with lust. "You don't get off that easily, my dear. I'm not finished with you."

Standing her up, he pulled her roughly against his body. Vivienne suppressed her instinct to pull away. "Perhaps we should move somewhere more comfortable?" she suggested softly, hoping to contain where this went. If she could coax him to a bed, maybe she could endure what came next with a shred more dignity.

Lucien gave a predatory grin. "Eager, are we? Fine." Keeping a firm grip on her wrist, he guided her through a doorway into what turned out to be a luxurious bedroom, dominated by a large four-poster bed.

The moment they reached the bedside, he spun her to face him and shoved the remaining fabric of her undergarments off her hips. Her petticoats and thin drawers fell to the floor, leaving her completely naked before him. Lucien's gaze raked over her greedily from breasts to the dark triangle of curls between her thighs.

Vivienne fought the urge to cover herself. Instead, she reached for him, sliding his coat from his shoulders in a show of participation. He let her push it off, then he impatiently kicked off his trousers the rest of the way. In a swift move, he grabbed her thighs and lifted her, throwing her down onto the bed on her back.

She bounced slightly on the plush mattress as Lucien climbed over her, fully aroused and intent. Vivienne's throat tightened with panic at the imminent confrontation of flesh, but she forced a languid smile and opened her legs in apparent welcome. If she pretended to want this, perhaps he wouldn't feel the need to hurt her.

He positioned himself between her thighs. Without warning, he thrust into her in one rough stroke. Vivienne cried out, unable to hide the mix of pain and shock as he filled her unprepared body. Lucien groaned in pleasure. "So tight… You've been busy since me, but you still feel untouched," he sneered, pulling back and slamming into her again.

Vivienne bit her lip hard. The stretch burned, but she willed her body to adjust quickly. Years of being a courtesan had taught her how to channel discomfort into manageable pain. She exhaled and wrapped her legs around his hips as if in passion, drawing him deeper. The gesture made him gasp with delight.

"That's it," he growled. "Take me."

Clutching the sheets, Vivienne began to move her hips in time with his thrusts. Each plunge still hurt, but she masked it with soft moans that imitated pleasure. Lucien's eyes flickered with surprise and satisfaction at her apparent enjoyment. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head, leaning down to bite and suck at her neck while he pummeled into her.

Vivienne turned her face away, staring at the canopy overhead as tears pricked her eyes. She dared not let him see them. Instead, she forced a breathy whisper, "Yes... just like that," as if urging him on. Her performance seemed to spur his ego. Lucien drove into her faster, his breath ragged against her collarbone.

Pain and revulsion warred with a strange disembodied pride—pride that even now, she could act convincingly enough to push him toward his climax. Vivienne felt his movements grow erratic. With a final, deep thrust, Lucien tensed and spilled himself inside her with a low, shuddering groan.

He collapsed atop her for a moment, panting hotly against her cheek. Vivienne lay still beneath him, body throbbing and mind reeling. After a few heartbeats, he withdrew and rolled to the side, not bothering to hold or caress her.

She turned on her side, curling slightly to make herself smaller as he caught his breath. Finally, Lucien rose from the bed and began dressing without a glance in her direction. "That was a promising start," he said smugly, buttoning his shirt. "Your skills are as polished as I'd heard. Perhaps you even enjoyed yourself—" He cast a cold smile at her. "Though with your talent for acting, who could tell?"

Vivienne pulled a sheet up over her nakedness, not responding to his taunt. Her body felt used and sore, but she schooled her face into neutrality.

Lucien finished donning his coat and smoothed his hair. "I will send for you soon. Be ready to attend me whenever I desire. And remember," his tone hardened, "if you even think of defying me or breathing a word of this arrangement, one letter from me will bring your world crashing down. Understood?"

Vivienne managed a small nod, her voice escaping in a whisper. "Understood."

He approached the bed and lifted her chin with one knuckle, examining her. She met his gaze, careful to reveal neither hatred nor fear—only a kind of dull resignation. It seemed to satisfy him. He leaned in and placed a brief, possessive kiss on her lips. "Good girl," he murmured against them. Then he straightened and strode out, leaving her alone in the lamplight, the echo of his footsteps soon followed by the distant sound of the front door shutting.

Only then did Vivienne let the facade crumble. She drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around herself as a tremor of silent sobs passed through her. She wept soundlessly into the pillow, cursing him, cursing fate, and most of all vowing that Lucien would not break her.

After a few minutes, her cries subsided. She wiped her eyes and sat up, winching at the ache between her thighs. The white sheet was stained with a few spots of blood—her body's protest to the roughness. The sight made her stomach turn, but it also steeled her resolve.

Vivienne dressed herself slowly, every movement painful. In the mirror above a dresser, she caught her reflection: swollen lips, reddened bite marks on her neck and breasts, eyes rimmed with moisture. She hardly recognized the haggard woman staring back. But beneath the dishevelment, a spark of defiance still burned.

Marquis Lucien believed he had trapped her. But Vivienne had not climbed from nothing to become the most sought-after woman in Paris by surrendering easily. If he was to be her enemy, she would find a way to counter him. She had powerful connections, and she intended to use them.

Pulling her cloak tight around her, Vivienne left the accursed townhouse and slipped into the night. Each step away from that place strengthened her resolve. Lucien wanted her subservient and afraid. She would be neither.

As she made her way through the dark, empty streets toward home, one thought guided her: she would seek out an ally powerful enough to challenge the Marquis. In the dangerous game that had now turned deadly serious, Vivienne refused to be a mere pawn. She would become the queen— or see the board overturned entirely.