Chapter 17
NATE
“Good night, my little lovebirds. Don’t have too much fun,” Mom yells from across the hallway, catching Dad off guard. His eyes flash wide with panic, and he nudges her shoulder in a “stay quiet” sort of way, but she still throws us a wink.
I wince at the blatant sexual innuendo and look down to see Vivienne frozen in place, equally as flustered. Her cheeks burn red before she averts her gaze to the wooden floor.
In some ways, it’s charming watching her react so viscerally to the crazy things my mom says. But now, I’m having thoughts of how I could draw out those same reactions out of her in far more sinful ways.
It’s wrong and twisted—especially with the nature of our arrangement—but watching Vivienne interact with my family was, without a doubt, the worst and most brutal thing I endured tonight.
Brutal—because I realized just how effortlessly she fits in with all of us.
Brutal—because I’m wildly attracted to a woman I can never catch feelings for.
But most importantly, brutal—because when this contract is over in four months, I’ll be the one breaking the news to my family. And I’m not sure I can bear the look on their faces when they find out the night they spent bonding with her was a lie.
With a deep breath and my mind in check, I yell back, “Good night, Mom. Good night, Dad. Love you.”
Vivienne shoots my parents one last warm smile along with a shy wave as I crack open the door to my childhood bedroom.
With a gentle push, it swings wide. I rest my hand on the small of her back—deliberately ignoring the hitch in her breath and the warmth spilling through my fingertips—as I guide her inside the dark space.
The second we step in, I shut the door behind us and lock it—preventing the possible breaking and entering of Natalia Archer. It’s only when I’m certain that we’re out of her reach that I let my lungs properly fill with air.
How did I get myself here? I’m mentally palming my face.
I should have declined the dinner invitation despite the guilt surging through me. We wouldn’t have found ourselves in a bigger mess than we already were.
“You have a lovely family.” Vivienne’s soft voice drags me out of my haze.
I look down to find her gaze sweeping my childhood bedroom, bathed only in the pale glow of the moonlight. From the dark blue walls plastered with posters of cars and planes to the medals and plaques from school awards above my small desk, and the picture frames on my dresser, she takes it all in.
There were no Playboy posters like Audrey had mentioned—only the remnants of a nerdy teenager who never had the heart to wipe away the memories when he grew up.
“And again, I’m sorry about the whole ex-boyfriend kissing thing,” she says as she turns back to me, hands flailing anxiously as she speaks. “I’m not sure why he was there in the first place, and as hard as I tried to push him off, I wasn’t strong enou—”
I catch one of her flying wrists in my palm, halting her movements and the rest of her sentence.
It was meant to be a gesture of reassurance—a confirmation that there’s no need to stress over this.
But the shock in her eyes makes me drop it instantly, the contact from her skin burning more than I’d like.
“Don’t worry about it.” I take a step away from her and head toward a bedside table where a lamp sits. “None of it was your fault.” With the twist of my finger, I switch it on, casting a yellowish hue on one side of the room before nodding for her to do the same.
Her brows furrow in confusion as she looks at the ceiling light.
“No one ever stays here,” I explain, “The bulb burned out a while ago, and I never bothered replacing it.”
That’s the only explanation she needs to go along with my request. She makes her way to the opposite side of the bed and fiddles with the knob. After a few failed attempts, she starts huffing and puffing in irritation.
“This. Isn’t. Working,” Vivienne grits out between clenched teeth. “Who even has these twisty dials on their lights anymore? This thing is ancient.”
A loud laugh escapes me for the first time all evening, and Vivienne’s eyes snap up to mine in surprise. And honestly, I am as well. Now that the pressure of pleasing my parents is gone, it’s like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.
“Are you calling me ancient, Vivienne?” I tease.
Her mouth parts in shock, clearly scared that I interpreted that way. “No, of course not! I just don’t get why there isn’t a normal switch like all the other lamps on the market.”
I shake my head in disbelief, the smile not leaving my lips as I round the bed.
“There’s no switch because this thing is from my childhood. Switches weren’t common back then. You should know this. You aren’t that much younger than me.”
I stop behind her, arm stretching toward the lampshade, and in the process, I unintentionally lean toward her.
Vivienne’s breath hitches sharply, and it’s then that I realize I can feel it all. Every time she inhales and exhales. The heat of her back radiating onto my chest. The intoxicating smell of her citrus shampoo. Let’s not forget the way her round ass barely grazes the front of my trousers.
I’m too close to her to stay level-headed. Too close to her to stay true to my words. I said I wouldn’t flirt, and I failed at that miserably. Though she hasn’t protested—it was an easy rule to let go of—the same could not be said about the others.
I flick the light on for her, lighting up the room just as Vivienne spins to face me. I freeze in place, captivated by her large, sparkling brown eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“Stop apologizing,” I respond with that same tenderness.
“I know you didn’t want your parents finding out about me.”
My heart tightens at the way she says it—especially when none of it directly concerns her.
It was never about hiding Vivienne from my parents—it was more about avoiding the judgment I’d get when they found out the real reason we were together.
Richard and Natalia Archer are two lovesick fools, even after the forty or so years they’ve been together.
Having them as parents, I realized I wanted the same for myself.
A love so strong it could withstand the test of time—marriage, kids, a home.
Introducing someone with a temporary place in my life to the people I looked up to the most seemed wrong.
Now that I’d done it, I realize there was a disadvantage I hadn’t anticipated—blurring the lines between what’s real and what’s fake. Vivienne meeting my family might have been for show, but as far as I could tell, her interactions with them were far too real.
She shifts her gaze downward, letting out a nervous chuckle, as though brushing off her earlier statement.
I slide my thumb and forefinger under her chin, gently guiding her eyes back to mine. Something about them always revealed her inner workings. She may not wear her heart on her sleeve, but every glance told me what words could not.
“It’s in the past. None of that matters now when you’ve won them over so effortlessly.” I stroke the point of her chin, fighting every bone in my body not to do the same to her lower lip.
One step forward, that’s all it took for us to stumble onto the bed, and for me to claim her as mine.
Shame fills me at the thought, but knowing that bitch of an ex forced himself onto her makes me want to replace that memory with a new one.
“You think?” Her face glimmers with hope.
“Undoubtedly. I’ve never seen them like a girl as much as you.”
And fuck it when I say that sentiment applies to me too.
I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear and lean down until our noses barely touch. Vivienne’s chest seizes, stilling on an inhale, while my hand moves to the back of her neck, squeezing lightly.
Everything about her is intoxicating. From the way she moves to the way she talks, to the droop of her eyes when my gaze flicks over her blush-colored lips.
You made her a promise, you bastard.
I take a step back, scrubbing a hand down my neck in frustration. “I’m going to take a shower,” I say, avoiding the sight of her. “T-shirts and sweatpants are in the bottom drawer if you need something to sleep in.”
The bathroom door shuts behind me louder than I intend. I strip bare, ignoring my racing thoughts, and even more so, my raging hard-on as I step in the shower.
Freezing-cold water cascades over my body, a chill seeping into my bones. Goose bumps trickle up my arm, and my heartbeat grows faster than I thought was possible.
The cold should have slowed down my heart rate, but I realize I’m still burning up when every touch from that woman ignites an inferno beneath my skin.
I knew she was special from the moment I met her.
No woman has ever had the guts to talk back to me like that.
To entertain the stupid shit I say and rebut it with something equally as witty.
I like that about her—so damn much—but it’s simultaneously the thing I hate most. Because looking back at it now, I realize that no matter how easy I thought it would be to resist her, I had no real chance from the start.
“Fuck.” I throw my head back in frustration.
Subjecting myself to these low temperatures should have been torturous enough to make me forget. But if Vivienne Brown is good at one thing, it’s being unforgettable.
One time. That’s all I need to get her out of my system—shame be damned.
A shaky hand rests against the tiled wall in front of me, while the other wipes the precum leaking out.
This is an all-time low—jacking off to the thought of my fake fiancée when she’s a door over, in my childhood bedroom, of all places—but it has to be done. For my sanity. My control. My ability to look at her without wanting to pounce.
I wrap a palm around myself, squeezing tightly.