Vivienne turned toward the mirror and stopped.
Helena was right.
She was a ss.
Her hair hung loose, strands clinging to her flushed neck. Her blouse sat crooked, wrinkled where his hands had gripped. And her lips... swollen, bruised deep red... scread exactly what had happened in that hallway.
She reached up, smoothing her hair back with sharp movents, straightening her collar, erasing the evidence.
’Did Helena suspect sothing?’ The thought flickered through her mind, accompanied by a small flutter of anxiety.
Vivienne paused, studying her reflection.
Then she exhaled slowly, her shoulders relaxing.
’Let her know.’
She wasn’t keeping it a secret anyway. Helena would find out eventually. Besides, it wasn’t as if she’d done anything wrong. She’d simply... tested the rchandise before the official presentation.
Vivienne’s lips curved into a small, private smile.
But as the adrenaline faded, a different sensation made itself known.
A cold, sticky heaviness between her thighs.
She had almost forgotten. In the rush to escape him, in the panic of the swap, she had ignored the physical reality of how hard she had responded to him.
She was soaked.
It wasn’t just a little dampness. It was a relentless, viscid reminder clinging to her skin, the aftermath of his finger pushing inside her and her body flooding to welco him.
She bit her lip, a fresh wave of heat climbing her neck. She couldn’t go down to dinner like this. She was dripping.
Her eyes darted nervously toward the heavy mahogany door.
It was closed.
’I hope she hasn’t noticed this too.’
Quickly, needing to assess the damage, she hitched up her tight pencil skirt, bunching the fabric at her waist.
The reflection in the mirror was crude. Erotic.
The black lace tops of her stockings cut starkly against her pale thighs. And there, right at the precipice of the lace, the skin glistened... slick and undeniable.
Vivienne snatched a tissue from the vanity.
Her breath hitched as she reached down, dabbing at the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, trying to wipe away the ss he’d made of her.
She closed her eyes for a second, the friction of the tissue sparking a ghost of the pleasure she’d felt just minutes ago.
"Helena."
The voice ca from the hallway, sharp and impatient, followed by the turning of the door handle.
Vivienne’s eyes snapped open.
Panic, cold and electric, spiked through her. She couldn’t be found like this... hand between her thighs, skirt hiked up to her waist.
In a blur of motion, she crumpled the tissue into her fist and shoved her skirt down, the fabric swooshing back into place just as the door swung open.
She spun around, her heart hamring against her ribs, her hand hiding the evidence behind her back.
Helena stood in the doorway. Arms crossed. Chin lifted.
Her eyes swept over Vivienne... taking in the flushed face, the slightly breathless stance, the way Vivienne was pressing her back against the vanity as if guarding a secret.
"Don’t waste ti primping," Helena continued, her tone carrying the exact dismissive edge Vivienne herself used when subordinates moved too slowly. "Our guest has been waiting long enough. Let’s not keep him hungry anymore."
Vivienne let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. The tension in her shoulders unspooled, a wash of pure, dizzying relief crashing over her.
She didn’t see.
The secret... the wetness, the sha, the crude reality of what she had been doing... was safe. Helena just thought she was vanity-checking her hair.
But as the adrenaline faded, it left sothing else in its wake.
Sothing sharp. Uncomfortable. Twisting in her chest like a burr she couldn’t dislodge.
Irritation.
Helena wasn’t suggesting they hurry. She was ordering.
And the tone was pure Vivienne Vanderbilt at her most imperious. The voice she used to end argunts. To dismiss incompetence. To remind people exactly who held the power in any given room.
Hearing it directed at her felt... wrong.
Vivienne wasn’t accustod to being ordered around. Not by board mbers. Not by competitors. Not by anyone.
Certainly not by her own cousin.
’This bitch is getting too into character,’ Vivienne thought, her jaw tightening.
But even as irritation flared hot in her chest, another part of her... cooler, more strategic... approved.
That’s good.
If Helena could own the role this completely, Alex would believe every second of it.
Which ant Vivienne could sit back, play the nervous assistant, and watch the ga unfold exactly as she’d planned.
’Let her have her mont,’ Vivienne decided, forcing the irritation down. ’Let her play CEO for one night.’
’I’ll see how you behave when he is actually in front of you,’ she promised silently, the thought dripping with nace.
Vivienne straightened, dropping the crumpled tissue discreetly into the bin behind her, and walked toward the door.
"Of course," she said, her voice carefully neutral. "I’m ready."
Helena’s eyes swept over her one more ti... assessing, judging, cataloging every detail... and then she nodded, satisfied.
"Good. Follow ."
And without waiting for a response, Helena turned and walked out of the room, the erald silk of her gown whispering against the floor with every confident step.
***
Helena walked down the grand staircase with asured, elegant steps, one hand trailing lightly along the polished mahogany banister.
A smile curved her lips... small, private, utterly victorious.
She could feel Vivienne behind her. Close enough to hear the rustle of silk. Far enough to make the power dynamic unmistakable.
Following.
Like an assistant should.
Every irritated breath Vivienne took, every mont of tense silence, every second her cousin couldn’t say what she was clearly thinking... it all fed the intoxicating rush flooding through Helena’s veins.
’Oh, this is just the beginning.’
Her smile widened as she reached the bottom step.
’I’m going to be the happiest woman tonight.’
Let Vivienne stew in her silent frustration. Let her watch Helena command the room, captivate Alexander Hale, play CEO so convincingly that even Vivienne would start to believe it.
’Now let’s see what you are, Alexander Hale.’
Helena turned toward the double mahogany doors of the dining room.
They stood slightly ajar, warm golden light spilling through the gap.
And beyond them... him.
She could see his silhouette through the opening... standing near the windows, hands in his pockets, looking out at the villa’s grounds with the kind of relaxed confidence that suggested he owned every space he occupied.
Helena’s breath caught.
Just slightly.
Just enough to make her steps falter for half a heartbeat before she caught herself.
Oh.
The photos hadn’t done him justice. The security footage had been grainy, inadequate, criminally insufficient.
This... this was sothing else entirely.
Even from a distance, even with his back partially turned, she could see the breadth of his shoulders, the way his dark shirt stretched across muscle that looked both athletic and predatory. The sharp line of his jaw. The way he held himself... not arrogant, not performing, just... present. Certain.
Like he didn’t need to announce his presence because everyone already felt it.
Helena’s pulse kicked up, heat blooming low in her stomach.
No wonder Vivienne fumbled. No wonder she ca back looking like she’d been devoured.
The thought sent a fresh jolt through her... half excitent, half sudden, visceral understanding of exactly what she was walking into.
This wasn’t just so handso young man she could charm and dismiss.
This was... danger.
Real, potent, undeniable danger wrapped in an attractive package.
And she was about to walk in there and pretend to be Vivienne Vanderbilt... untouchable CEO, woman who commanded empires... while her body was already responding to him like a traitor.
She glanced back over her shoulder.
Vivienne stood a few steps behind, watching her with those sharp, knowing eyes... the kind that saw everything, cataloged everything, missed nothing.
And there it was.
A small, private smile playing at the corners of Vivienne’s lips. Subtle. Smug. The expression of soone watching exactly what they’d predicted unfold in real ti.
Haven’t I told you? that smile seed to say. Didn’t I warn you what he was?
Helena’s jaw tightened.
Vivienne wasn’t just watching her struggle to compose herself. She was enjoying it.
Savoring Helena’s montary weakness like fine wine after having her own control stripped away.
’You think this is funny?’
Sothing fierce sparked in Helena’s chest... sharper than nerves, hotter than attraction.
’Fine.’
’Watch .’
She turned back toward the doors, refusing to give Vivienne the satisfaction of seeing her falter again.
She straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and let her expression settle into sothing cool, assessing, faintly amused.
The exact look Vivienne used when entering negotiations she intended to win.
’Let’s see if you can have him before , Mrs. Vivienne Vanderbilt,’ she thought, her smile sharpening.
Helena pushed the doors wider and stepped inside.
Alex turned from the window at the sound of her entrance.
Their eyes t.
And despite having just seen him through the doorway, despite thinking she’d prepared herself, the full force of his presence up close stole the breath from her lungs.
Oh God.
Helena forced a smile... warm, professional, exactly the right blend of gracious host and powerful CEO.
"Mr. Hale," she said, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest. "It’s my pleasure to finally et you."
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