Dante

Chapter 8

Despite what Vivian thought, I'd scheduled my Europe

trip before she moved in. A majority of Russo Group

brands were headquartered on the continent, and I

blocked off a month every year to hold in-person meetings with

the heads of our European subsidiaries.

This year's timing just happened to be extremely convenient.

However, I made sure to keep tabs on Luca and Vivian while I

was gone. I'd assigned Luca a sales role at one of our jewelry

subsidiaries' retail stores. He was a people person, and putting

him in a back office somewhere would only spell disaster for him

and the store in question. According to the store manager, he had

a rough start—my brother had never been punctual—but by the

time I returned to New York, he seemed to have settled, albeit

begrudgingly, into his new role.

Vivian, on the other hand, had taken to her new surroundings

like a duck to water. Greta and Edward gushed about her in every

report, and I came home to find a new painting in the gallery,

towels monogrammed with D&V in the bathrooms, and fucking

flowers everywhere.

"Dante, relax your expression," Winona said. "Give me a smile…that's it! Perfect."

The camera shutter clicked in rapid succession..

Vivian and I had spent the morning taking engagement photos

in Central Park. It was as excruciating as I'd imagined, filled with

fake smiles and faker embraces as Winona guided us into poses

designed to show off how in "love" we were.

"Vivian, put your arms around his neck and move closer."

I stiffened when Vivian obliged and took a tentative step

toward me.

"Closer. I can practically drive a tractor between you right now,"

Winona joked.

"Do as she says so we can get this over with," I ground out.

The sooner I put more distance between us, the better.

"You grow more charming every day." Vivian's voice was so

sweet I could've drizzled it over pancakes. "Europe truly did

wonders for your personality."

"Closer," Winona encouraged. If she picked up on our hostility,

she didn't acknowledge it. "One more step…"

Vivian's breasts grazed my chest when she closed the

remaining gap between us.

My muscles went rigid.

"Dante, put your arms around Vivian."

For fuck's sake.

Since I just wanted to get the torture over with, I set my jaw

and placed my hands on Vivian's hips. Heat seared through the

silk of her dress, and her damned apple scent crawled into my

lungs again.

Neither of us moved, afraid the slightest shift would

inadvertently bring us even closer.

"I received an interesting call from my accountant when I was

in Paris," I said in an effort to distract myself from our disturbing

proximity. "One hundred thousand dollars charged to my Amex in

one day, including ten grand on flowers. Care to explain?"

"You gave me a black Amex, I used it," Vivian said with an

elegant shrug. "What can I say? I like flowers. And shoes."

Translation: You were an asshole before you left, and I took it

out on your bank account.

A subtle but petty act of revenge. Good for her.

There was no one more irritating than someone who didn't

stand up for herself.

"Clearly," I said, trying not to breathe too deep so her scent

didn't envelop me completely. "And the towels?"

"They were a gift from my mother."

Of course they were.

"Let me know in advance the next time you leave for a month,"

she said. "I want time to plan a party, redecorate the living room,

maybe come up with a robust shopping list. It's amazing how

much you can do with no spending limit."

I narrowed my eyes.

I didn't care about the credit card usage. Luca once spent a

million dollars on a ridiculous twenty-four-karat solid gold bathtub

for a pajama party. A hundred grand was nothing.

What pissed me off was the way Vivian rearranged everything

while I was gone. The towels and flowers were just the tip of the

iceberg. There was new art on the walls, aromatherapy piping

through hidden diffusers, and a massage room where the gift-

wrapping room used to be.

I left for a month and came back to find my home transformed

into a fucking Club Med.

"You had a good time while I was gone, did you?" A dangerous

current twined around my words.

"I had a wonderful time." Vivian threaded her fingers through

my hair and tugged hard enough to hurt. She smiled. "The house

has been so pleasant without all the scowls and grunts."

"Here I thought you'd miss me." I tsked. "I'm hurt."

"I would apologize, but catering to your feelings isn't part of our

arrangement. It's just a business deal. Remember?"

A reluctant smile touched my mouth.

Touché.

"Look at you two. So sweet." Winona sighed. "Dante, why don't

you give her a kiss on the lips? It'll be the perfect photo to wrap up

the shoot."

My smile disappeared.

Vivian went stiff in my arms. "That's not necessary," she said

quickly. "We don't…we don't like PDA."

"There's no one here except us," Winona pointed out.

I'd pulled some strings and reserved swaths of the park for the

photoshoot. I hated public crowds. Too loud, too unpredictable,

too there.

"Yes, but…" Vivian faltered. She looked like a rabbit caught in

headlights.

Annoyance flared at her horrified expression. I didn't want to

kiss her, but I didn't appreciate how she acted like kissing me was

the equivalent of getting bitten by a poisonous snake.

"We really don't feel comfortable kissing in front of any third

party," Vivian finally finished.

She tried to step back, but my hold on her hips prevented her

from doing so.

My annoyance deepened. We'd agreed to play the part of a

loving couple in public, but she wasn't acting particularly loving.

"If you don't want to, that's fine, but it's not an engagement

shoot without a kiss." Winona looked puzzled by our hesitation. "I

promise I won't be scandalized."

"Right." Vivian scraped her teeth across her bottom lip.

Christ. If she waffled any harder, she'd have a prime spot on

Sarabeth's brunch menu, syrup and all.

Instead of waiting for her to make a decision sometime in the

next century, I dipped my head and brushed my mouth over hers.

Softly, just long enough to hear the camera shutter click again.

Vivian's body morphed from stiff to rigid. Her lips parted on a

sharp inhale, and I tasted something sweet flavored with a hint of spices.

My blood thrummed.

It was just supposed to be a quick kiss for the camera. I should

pull back, but her mouth was so warm and soft I couldn't resist

another taste.

And another.

Before I knew it, my hand slid up of its own accord. My fingers

sank into her hair and evoked an overwhelming urge to deepen

the kiss. To wrap my fist around all that silk and tug until her

mouth opened fully for me, letting me explore and plunder at my

will.

My blood thrummed louder.

I blamed my senseless actions on the month apart. Absence

made the heart grow fonder and all that crap.

It was the only plausible reason why kissing Francis Lau's

daughter didn't make me want to scrub bleach all over myself.

Vivian tilted her chin up a fraction, giving me better access. My

—

"We got the shot!" Winona's voice yanked us apart as

suddenly and violently as if someone had fired a gun.

One second, we were kissing. The next, my hands were gone

from Vivian's hip and hair, her arms had dropped from around my

neck, and my heart was racing like I'd just completed an Ironman

Triathlon.

Vivian and I stared at each other for a frozen second before

quickly looking away.

The kiss had lasted less than a minute, but my mouth turned

with the imprint of her lips. Heaviness settled on my skin like a

cashmere blanket as Winona rose from her crouching position.

"You two might be the most photogenic couple I've ever

worked with." She grinned. "I can't wait for you to see the final

photos."

"Thank you," Vivian said, her face pink. "I'm sure they'll be

great."

"Are we done?" I removed my jacket and ignored her reproving

look. We'd done the damn shoot. What more did she want?

And why was it so fucking hot in the middle of October?

"Yes, I'll email you a link to the gallery in two weeks," Winona

said, unfazed by my curt reply. "Congratulations again on your

engagement."

Vivian thanked her again while I brushed past her toward the

stairs leading away from Bethesda Terrace. I needed to put more

distance between us immediately.

Unfortunately, Vivian soon fell into step with me again, and we

walked in silence toward one of the park exits while I cursed

myself for my lapse of judgment.

Not just the kiss, but the photoshoot altogether. I should've

hired someone to Photoshop us into the park. That way, I wouldn't

have to deal with…this.

The restless buzz beneath my skin. The tightening of my

muscles when her scent wafted into my nose. The memory of her

mouth on mine.

It wasn't about the kiss, which we'd had to do if we didn't want

to arouse Winona's suspicion.

It was about the fact I'd lingered.

Vivian finally spoke when we passed through the exit onto 79th

and Fifth. "About the kiss back there—"

"It was for the photo." I didn't look at her.

"I know, but—"

"Are you hungry?" I nodded at the food cart on the corner of

the street. I would rather bathe in acid than discuss what

happened.

Vivian sighed but dropped the subject. "I could use some

food," she admitted. Her eyebrows winged up when I stopped in

front of the food cart. "What are you doing?"

"Buying breakfast." I pulled a crisp twenty out of my wallet.

"Two coffees and signature bagels. Keep the change. Thanks,

Omar."

While I wanted to get away from Vivian as soon as possible, I

was damn hungry. We'd woken up too early for breakfast, and I

couldn't buy food without getting some for her too.

I was an asshole, not a boor.

I turned to find her staring at me like I'd sprouted horns and

feathers in the middle of Fifth Avenue.

"What?"

"You're on a first-name basis with the owner."

"Obviously." I slid my wallet back into my pocket. "I run here in

the mornings when I have time, and I've tried all the breakfast

carts around the park. Omar's the best."

"Here I thought you only ate caviar and human hearts."

"Don't be ridiculous. Caviar tastes awful with human hearts."

Vivian's laugh evoked a strange sensation in my chest.

Heartburn? Investigate later.

I took the food and handed one of the paper cups and

wrapped bagels to her. "I pay for quality, not price. Expensive

doesn't always equal good, especially when it comes to food."

"For once, we agree." She followed me to a nearby bench and

tucked her dress beneath her thighs before sitting. "We should

check the temperature in hell."

The corner of my mouth kicked up, but I flattened it before she

noticed.

"One of my favorite restaurants before it closed was this tiny

little place in Boston's Chinatown," Vivian said hesitantly, like she

was deciding whether or not to share the information with me

even as the words left her mouth. "If you weren't looking for it,

you'd miss it. The decor looked like something out of the early

nineties and the floors were suspiciously sticky, but they had the best dumplings I'd ever tasted."

Curiosity got the better of me. "Why did it close?"

"The owner died, and his son didn't want to take it over. He

sold it to someone who turned it into an electronics repair shop." A

wistful note entered her voice. "My family and I ate there every

week, but I guess we would've stopped going even if it'd stayed

open. They only go to Michelin-starred places now. If they saw me

eating from a food truck, they'd have a coronary."

I took a slow sip of coffee as I processed what she said.

I'd assumed Vivian was fully under her parents' thumb, but

judging by her tone, all was not perfect in the Lau family.

"My brother and I used to go to this place in midtown when we

were kids," I said. "Moondust Diner. The neighborhood was a

tourist trap, but the diner had the best milkshakes in the city. Two

dollars, glasses almost as big as our heads. We went there every

week after school until our grandfather found out. He was furious.

Said Russos don't frequent cheap diners and assigned someone

to walk us home straight after school. We never went back after

that."

I'd never told anyone about the diner, but since she shared

about the dumpling shop, I felt compelled to reciprocate.

The kiss really had fucked with my head.

"Two-dollar milkshakes? I would've been a dentist's

nightmare," Vivian joked.

"Mine wasn't my biggest fan either."

The Moondust Diner still existed, but I wasn't a kid anymore.

My sweet tooth had faded, and I didn't have time for trips down

nostalgia lane.

We ate quietly for another minute before I said, "Things must

have changed quite a bit after your father's business took off."

I could always use more intel on the Laus, and if anyone knew

Francis well, it was his daughter.

At least, that was the reason I gave myself for not leaving even though I'd finished my food.

"That's an understatement." Vivian traced the rim of her coffee

cup with her finger. "When I was fourteen, my mother sat me

down for the talk. It wasn't about sex; it was about expectations

for who I should and could date. I was free to be with anyone I

wanted as long as they met certain criteria. That was also the day

I found out I was expected to have an arranged marriage if I didn't

find anyone 'suitable' within a certain time."

I'd suspected as much. New money families like the Laus

typically tried to enhance their social status through marriage. Old

money families did it too, but they were more subtle about it.

"I take it your parents weren't fans of your exes." If they were,

Vivian and I wouldn't be engaged.

"No." A shadow passed over her face. "What about you? Any

exes you thought about marrying?"

"I wasn't interested in marriage."

"Hmm. I'm not surprised."

I slanted a glance at her. "Meaning?"

"Meaning you're a control freak. You probably hated—and still

hate—the idea of someone coming in and upending your life. The

more people in the household, the harder it is to control your

surroundings."

My shock must've been evident because Vivian laughed and

gave me a half-teasing, half-smug smile.

"It's pretty obvious in the way you run your household," she

said. "Plus, during meals, you're anal about your foods not

touching. You put the meat on the upper left side of your plate,

vegetables on the upper right, and carbs and grains on the

bottom. You did it at my parents' house and on my first night at

your place, before you left for Europe."

She sipped her coffee, managing to look regal even while

drinking from a paper cup. "Control freak," she summarized.

Reluctant admiration swept through me. "Impressive."

I'd been particular about my foods touching since I was a child.

I didn't know why; the sight and texture of mixed foods just made

my skin crawl.

"It comes with the job," Vivian said. "Event planning requires

strong attention to detail, especially when you're dealing with the

types of clients I have."

Rich. Entitled. Needy.

She didn't need to say it for me to know what she meant.

"Why event planning instead of the family business?" I was

genuinely curious.

Vivian shrugged. "I like jewelry as a consumer, but I have no

interest in the corporate side of the business," she said. "Running

Lau Jewels wouldn't be a creative endeavor. It would be about

stockholders, financial reports, and a thousand other things I don't

care about. I hate numbers, and I'm not good at them. My sister

Agnes is the one who likes that stuff. She's the company's head of

sales and marketing, and when my father retires, she'll take over

as CEO."

There won't be a company left to take over after I'm done.

A small twist of unease tugged at my gut before I dismissed it.

Her father deserved what was coming to him. Vivian and her

sister didn't, but ruin and collateral damage went hand in hand. It

was the cost of doing business.

"What about you? Did you ever want to do something else?"

Vivian asked.

"No."

I'd spent my entire life preparing to take over the Russo Group.

Pursuing another career path had never even crossed my mind.

"My father refused to take over the company, so it was up to

me to carry on the Russo tradition," I said. "Abnegating was never

an option."

"Your father could but you couldn't? Seems unfair."

"There's no such thing as fairness in the business world.

Besides, my father would've been shit as CEO. He's the type of

guy who cares more about being liked than getting the job done.

He would've run the company into the ground within years, and

my grandfather knew it. That was why he didn't push him into

taking an executive role."

The words came out of their own accord.

I wasn't sure why I was telling Vivian about my family. An hour

ago, I would've rather jumped off the Empire State Building than

spend another minute playing nice with her.

Maybe the kiss had short-circuited my brain, or maybe it was

because this was my first moment of semi-peace since my

grandfather died.

The past few months had been headache after headache.

Funeral arrangements, Francis's blackmail, Luca's bullshit, the

engagement and Europe trip and regular business and social

obligations I had to keep up with.

It was nice to sit and breathe for a minute.

"Speaking of my parents, they'd like to meet you," I said.

Introducing Vivian to them was a headache I'd hoped to avoid,

though I'd known the chances of fending them off for a year or

however long it took to break the engagement were slim. "We're

spending Thanksgiving with them."

According to Christian's report, the Laus weren't big on

Thanksgiving, so Vivian shouldn't be too upset about missing the

holiday with her family.

Not that I cared if she was.

"Okay." She paused, obviously waiting for more information.

When I didn't provide any, she asked, "Do your parents live in

New York?"

"A little farther." I tossed my empty coffee cup in a nearby trash can. "Bali."

For now. My parents hadn't spent more than three consecutive

months in one place in decades.

Vivian's mouth parted. "You want us to fly to Bali to meet your

parents for Thanksgiving?"

"We'll be there for a week. We leave the Sunday prior and

come back the following Monday."

"Dante." She sounded like she was struggling to keep calm. "I

can't just go to Bali for a week with less than two months' notice. I

have a job, plans—"

"It's a holiday weekend," I said impatiently. "What are you

planning? The Macy's Thanksgiving Parade?"

She crumpled her bagel wrapper with a white-knuckled hand.

"I have to be back that Monday morning for a client meeting. I'll be

tired, jet-lagged—"

"Then we'll leave Saturday instead." My parents were the ones

who'd insisted we stay a week. Vivian's work gave me a good

excuse to cut out early. "We're taking my jet, and we'll be staying

at my parents' villa. It's not a big deal. We're going to Bali, for

fuck's sake. Everyone wants to go to Bali."

"That's not the point. We should be consulting each other on

this type of stuff. You're my fiancé, not my boss. You can't just tell

me to jump and expect me to jump."

God, this was tedious. "Considering I'm the one who paid for

your shoes and flowers, I think I can do exactly that."

I knew it was the wrong thing to say the second the words left

my mouth, but it was too late to take them back.

Vivian stood abruptly. A breeze blew her skirt around her

thighs, and a passing jogger gawked at her until I chased him off

with a glare.

"Thank God you showed your true colors again," she said, her

cheeks flushed. "I was beginning to think you were human." She

threw out her cup and wrapper. "Thank you for breakfast. Let's never do this again."

She walked away, her shoulders stiff.

Behind his cart, Omar shook his head and frowned at me.

I ignored him. Who cared if that'd been an asshole thing to

say? I'd already let my guard down more than I should've that

morning.

Vivian was the daughter of the enemy, and I would do well to

remember that.

I stayed on the bench for a while longer, trying to recapture the

magic from earlier, but the peace was gone.

When I returned home, I found a check waiting on my bedside

table for exactly one hundred thousand dollars.