Chapter Twenty-Five
VIVI
Every step toward Jameson feels like walking on hot coals.
Not because of him. Because of what I’m walking away from.
Trey’s words are still in my head, sharp and deliberate. This was fun. We needed it. But it doesn’t change reality.
As if that’s all it was—fun. As if the last month of movie nights, the sleepovers, the secret grins, watching each other in every room where we’d pull apart didn’t mean anything.
Jameson stands in the doorway. Exuding confidence from every pore in his body, no other reason than just because that’s the man he is. Every woman in this auditorium is always well aware of his presence.
He’s calculated but in a sophisticated and intelligent way. He didn't even step into the auditorium, as if he knew that he didn’t technically belong, but his presence alone would be enough to bring me to him.
Navy slacks, a white shirt with the sleeves rolled, and hair just this side of perfectly styled—like he’s run his hands through it more than a few times today.
It makes him look less like the immaculate man from our engagement photos, who’s been featured on Forbes magazine and is the face of the Holiday brand.
Instead, he looks more like someone who’s been…moving. Busy. Distracted.
Like something has been weighing on his mind lately. And I suppose losing your trust fund, family, and status could do that to a person.
When I stop in front of him, his gaze sweeps over me.
Not in the lingering, hungry way Trey does, but like he’s taking inventory.
Cataloging who I am in this more casual yet form-fitting maxi dress.
A dress I knew Trey wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of.
Not my suits. Not my gowns. Not the carefully constructed public image that certainly made Genevieve more interested in me as a match for her son.
Instead, I’m dressed for a softer world. Trey’s world.
One I wasn’t ready to leave.
“Jameson…you’re back.”
“I couldn’t let you have all the fun, now could I?” His tone carries a faint amusement, but his eyes are assessing.
“I’ll admit, it’s been a walk in the park since you left for Greece,” I say, playing along. “But I suppose I can share. I’m a team player, after all.”
A woman passes a little too close, her eyes darting to him. He doesn’t look at her. We wait until she’s gone before resuming.
“I’m surprised to see you here. I didn’t think ballet recitals were your style.”
He grins with a light chuckle. “No, they aren’t. I just needed to see you two together,” he says, and it smacks me in the gut. His tone is calm but clipped. “You and Trey. For myself.”
There’s a flicker of something in his eyes I can’t name before he continues.
I’m about to word vomit an apology for running out on the wedding, about everything that’s happened so far, though he did take our wedding planner on our honeymoon for two months.
And maybe if Geneveve had let me see Jameson before our nuptials, maybe I wouldn’t have ran.
Maybe he could have reasoned with me like he always does, and I would have remembered all the reasons we agreed to marry. Then none of this would have happened.
But then Adeline and Trey wouldn’t have happened. And as much as I’m hurting right now with how Trey dismissed our time together so quickly as a fling, I don’t regret anything with him. Not a single moment, not a single touch.
But before I can utter a single word, he speaks up, taking my opening.
“I’ve already arranged for your reinstatement as CEO—immediately. They never should’ve had the power to remove you in the first place. Virginia briefed me in full. Martin Howard is gone. I personally made sure of it.”
It takes me a second to absorb the speed of it. No negotiation. No request for my side. Just done.
“Gone—” I start, then stop. “You’ve already fired him?”
“Yes. Effective this morning. You can start back tomorrow.”
It’s all efficiency. No wasted words. Typical Jameson.
I glance over my shoulder at the sound of what I think is Adeline’s voice coated in distress.
She’s standing in front of Trey, her hands in fists at her sides.
I can’t hear her words, but I feel them.
Trey is bent to one knee, talking low, his mouth set in the grim line I’ve seen in post-game losses and bad news calls.
It’s enough to make me turn and run to them. To soothe whatever issue she’s facing and help to squash it quickly, assuring her it will all be alright and hold her in a tight hug.
I want to choose them.
But Trey’s voice in my head says “Go.”
And he didn’t just mean to Jameson.
I glance toward Trey again, just in time to see Adeline tear toward the exit. Trey grabs their things in a panic and chases after her, his long strides eating the distance. My muscles tense to follow, but Trey catches my eye mid-chase and lifts a hand. A silent “Don’t.”
It’s enough to root me in place.
I turn back to Jameson. My voice is steadier than I feel. “I need a ride home.”
He doesn’t comment. Just nods once and steps aside so I can pass.
The ride is quiet, the kind of quiet that fills with all the things you should say to the man you left at the altar and with whom you’re about to make wedding plans.
Finally, I break the silence.
“I should apologize,” I say softly. “For leaving. For…everything. I know I set all of this in motion.”
His jaw works once before he answers. “Before Natasha came to my mother and whispered that the bridal room was empty, I had never considered having a choice.”
That pulls my eyes to him. “A choice?”
“I was groomed from birth to know my mother would pick my wife. That’s why I’ve never had a serious relationship, and I was labeled a playboy billionaire…
which, fairly, I earned. But why bother with dating anyone seriously when I knew how it would end?
” He exhales through his nose, steady but not entirely at ease.
“I didn’t pick you myself, Vivi, but my mother did a good job.
I know you’ll make a good wife, and I’ll be a good husband to you.
More than that,” he continues, “I’ll be a good partner.
Now that I’m back, I’ll make everything right. ”
I look at him, searching for… something.
Warmth and certainty. But there’s a thread of distraction there, like part of him is somewhere else entirely.
However, I do believe that he means what he says.
I’ve never heard or seen him ever go back on his word.
Not on a business deal or otherwise, and we both have to face it… this is a business deal.
We pull up to my townhouse. I reach for the door handle but pause. “Is Natasha okay?”
He doesn’t answer right away. “I don’t know. She left Greece before I did. Didn’t say where she was going. Didn’t say anything at all.”
The way his jaw tightens tells me it bothers him more than he wants to admit.
Before I can push further, he shifts gears entirely. Back to business as usual. Another product of the way he was raised…I assume.
“I’m going to set a meeting. You, me, and my mother. Just us. Our marriage is a private matter, no matter what the board and the trust think. We’ll discuss everything that needs to be handled, though as I understand it, the wedding has now turned into a bigger circus than before.”
“It’s for the optics,” I tell him, using his mother's tone.
He gives a humorless chuckle. He’s probably as sick of hearing the word "optics" as I am.
“I’ll be in touch soon.”
And then he’s gone, leaving me standing on my front steps, wondering if I just got my life back…
Or if I’m about to get back the life I don’t want.