15. Magical Night
15
MAGICAL NIGHT
RICHARD
Vivian shifted closer, her eyes opening slowly with a sleepy sweetness that promised comfort. I could have woken up every day to those mesmerizing blues.
“Good morning. Looks like there’s no walk of shame today,” I teased in a husky tone, reaching to tuck her hair from her eyes.
“I woke a little while ago and thought about escaping,” she replied coolly before a chuckle escaped her.
“Not this time—you won’t escape me. I’ll never let you go,” I assured her as the soft sunrise peeked through the window.
She snuggled against me and yawned. “What time is it?”
“Early. We have an hour before Paris wakes up.”
“I should go and clean up,” she noted, though she made no move to do so.
“Before you do, can I ask you something?” I adjusted our position so that her head rested easily on my shoulder, then finally posed the question that had been on my mind. “Help me see what I’m missing about our night in Paris?”
She looked up, a gentle hand trailing down my cheek and neck until it rested just above my heart. “You really want me to tell you?”
“Yes, please. I want to hear it from your point of view.”
She nodded and intertwined our fingers. “That night, you were everything I needed as a young woman, desperate to escape Adrien. Your strength carried me, and your words had the wisdom of someone older and more experienced.”
I scratched at the scruff along my jaw. “I don’t know about that. For years, I beat myself up over how my ego got the better of me trying to do that deal with that asshole.”
“To me, you were exactly the man I needed that night. As we walked beneath the Eiffel Tower, the magic of moonlight, the charm of Parisian streets, your confident presence and encouraging assurances, mixed with my desire to get back at Adrien for the way he cheated on me—it all made it inevitable that I ended up in your arms, kissing you. The twinkling lights above on the tower felt like a sign that we were meant to be together that night.”
“Get back at him?” I asked.
“It was a choice I made. Not only did you have me feeling so good, but I was driven by a need to get back at him. Adrien had made me feel worthless with his cheating, and you were his complete opposite—gentle, considerate, and incredibly sexy. How could any woman in my situation say no to your charms?”
“I’m glad now that you didn’t, because we have Paris.” I pressed her hand to my lips with a kiss.
“You’re not upset about how I used you? Trust me, that’s not who I am. I’m not that type of person.”
“Hey, I know the person you are. The circumstances played a big role.”
“Not that it makes a difference, but I never mentioned about us to him. I only said we talked. I couldn’t bring myself to be spiteful and reveal we were together—our time was too precious to me to tarnish it. Didn’t want the memory to be spoiled.”
“See, I knew it. My sweet cupcake.” I hugged her closer and kissed her forehead. “I just wish you hadn’t left me the morning after.”
“I knew nothing serious could develop since you were returning to the States.”
“I could have come back often—set you up in a lovely apartment, taken good care of you.” I shook my head at what might have been.
“But my focus was on my education—studying under a famous chef and building my culinary career. I had fallen in love with France and wanted to stay, even amidst the turmoil of dealing with Adrien. And despite my special night with you, I couldn’t shake him from my mind.”
My jaw tensed at the repeated mention of his name. I wished I could erase it completely, to make her forget him.
She sighed and continued. “After our night together, the very next day, Adrien pleaded for forgiveness.” She brushed a tear from the corner of her eye. “A few weeks later, after relentless groveling, daily flower deliveries, and dates, Adrien won me back. He promised to change and hurt me no more, so foolishly, I returned to him. Then I discovered I was pregnant. The timing was so close that I convinced myself the baby was his. He proposed immediately, and soon we were married.”
“Why didn’t you get a test to be sure he was the father?”
“If only I had. I wouldn’t have had to deal with him.”
Or take his last name, which bothered me to no end.
“And you divorced him—what happened?” I asked, though it pained me to delve into these memories.
“After we got married, Adrien showed his true nature. He lied, got aggressive with me during our arguments, and stayed out late into the night.”
“Wait. I don’t like hearing that. How aggressive? How did he mistreat you?” Every muscle in my body tightened on edge at the thought of what she endured.
“It only happened a few times when we argued.” She shook her head, clearly reluctant to say more, and I didn’t want to pressure her to relive any of it. “His business was struggling, and we were having a hard time. It was a stressful period for him.”
“That asshole doesn’t deserve your justifications for his behavior. Everyone deals with stress, and there are plenty of ways to manage it without taking it out on you.” I took her hand and kissed it. “If I’d known, I would have helped you leave.”
“He never really connected with the baby or embraced being a father. Every time he held Paris, she’d cry and cry. Eventually, he stopped trying altogether, and that added even more pressure on me.” She dabbed a tear from her cheek. “In the end, I realized I couldn’t stay with him. I couldn’t risk things getting worse or him ever endangering Paris.”
“I’m so glad you finally recognized that.”
“When I told him I wanted a divorce, he didn’t fight for me. And when I said I wanted to move back to the States with Paris, he didn’t contest it—like all he wanted was to get back to his life without a wife or child. Things have remained tense between us, but I did my best, for Paris’s sake, to keep some kind of connection.”
“That was far too generous of you.”
“Please, Richard, I did what I believed was best.”
“I’m not judging you. I’m incredibly proud of you for getting out of that horrible situation. Honestly, I beat myself up for not chasing you harder that morning. I truly think I could have given you a better life—if only I hadn’t been drugged the night before.” I massaged my forehead, lost in thought. “Vivian, during all your time with Adrien, did you ever hear about him using drugs for himself or getting involved in buying, selling, or passing them on to others?”
“I wasn’t really into the party scene, but he definitely was. Club Aces was all the rage for concerts, wild parties, and celebrity sightings, but when I met him, it was at a quiet garden party hosted by the parents of the chef I studied under. Adrien’s parents were friends with them, and he appeared a clean-cut young man making his mark in business. We began dating, and his parents really took to me, especially his mother. A few months later, he invited me to move in, and that’s when I saw his double life—the polished version he showed to his family and the darker side immersed in the party scene.”
She stared up at the ceiling and sighed. “So yes, drugs were in the picture. I’m pretty sure he used them recreationally, although I’m uncertain about any buying or selling. I’d heard some people say that Club Aces was the go-to spot if you were looking to score any kind of drug imaginable. Over time, he’d become an embarrassment to his mother who was a devout Christian in social circles.”
“You know the authorities eventually raided his club, right?”
“I’d heard about it. By then, I’d already left him. I was making plans to return to the states.” She exhaled deeply and sat up straighter. “Looking back, I can hardly believe that life with Adrien was my own—it felt like it belonged to someone else.”
I couldn’t bear another minute of her dwelling on that prick. I shifted, positioning myself over her. “Enough. I’ve heard all I need about him. You have to believe that I would never treat you like he did, and I’ll prove that every day. So, tell me what it takes to erase him from your memory forever—I’ll do anything you ask.” I trailed kisses down her neck, lingering over each breast as her soft moans filled the space.
“Tell me, cupcake,” I growled, pressing further until my mouth found her clit, my tongue seeking through her folds…
“Memory of who? What? All I see and feel is you, Mr. Buchanan. Yes, right there,” she whimpered, clutching a handful of the duvet and arching her back. I added my fingers for her pleasure—curling them, stroking her, never relenting until she came undone on my tongue. “Do you want to spoil me? Give me more of that.”
“Fuck yes, Vivian. I’m giving you my all.” I aligned my cock and thrust into her wet center, holding there bare, desperate for every inch of me to satisfy her deepest desires so that she’d never yearn for another man.