2. Vivienne
Vivienne
“Ready for this?” Landon asks, resting his fingers lightly on the small of my back.
“As I’ll ever be.” I scan the ballroom of the Allerton Hotel, which my mother booked for the party the second we announced our engagement. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if she had it on standby, knowing we’d need it eventually.
The room glows from the light of the numerous chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.
Cloth-covered tables form a perimeter around the dance floor, each one topped with a giant bouquet of flowers that smell so strongly, they’re starting to give me a headache.
The string quartet plays a melody I’ve never heard before, but it sounds nice.
Landon gives my fingers a squeeze, then leads me to the small stage. Looking out over our family and friends, he takes the microphone. “Thank you all for coming to celebrate Vivienne’s and my engagement,” he says.
Cheers and the tinkling of glassware rise from the crowd. I smile graciously, hoping they won’t ask us to kiss.
“We haven’t known each other long,” Landon continues, “but from the moment I met Vivienne, I could see myself spending the rest of my life with her.” He gazes at me with what looks like adoration, but those blue-gray eyes never reveal what he’s really thinking.
He could be wondering about the score of tonight’s lacrosse game for all I know.
I feel my skin heating beneath his prolonged stare, and I drop my eyes to my champagne flute, hopefully appearing the blushing bride and not the awkward fiancée who isn’t sure how she found herself in this situation.
Landon continues his speech—he’s good at these things, thank god, because I’m not—while I turn my attention to our guests.
Landon’s mum beams at me, wagging her brows suggestively.
She’s probably already preparing for the arrival of grandchildren.
I quickly glance away before my dinner decides to come back up.
My own mother’s gaze is focused on Landon, her lips pressed into a thin line, the corners drawing up in just a hint of a smile. As if she can feel my eyes on her, she glances at me as she pats the side of her hair, which has been swept into an updo that makes her look ten years younger.
When our eyes meet, she doesn’t widen her smile, but I can sense her approval even from here. Caterina Wilson may not be winning any awards for her mothering skills, but she sure knows how to throw a party. She certainly outdid herself tonight.
Multiple champagne towers dot the room, the light making them sparkle like diamonds.
Servers are circulating with trays of caviar, smoked salmon blini, and pastel macarons.
The last time my mother had the chance to plan an event like this was my sister’s wedding.
That was two years ago, and she’s been itching for another opportunity ever since.
Beside her, my father sips his whiskey neat while watching Landon, his bushy gray brows drawn together in concentration.
I don’t know if he’s looking for a flaw or simply trying to decide which of his two sons-in-law will be his favorite.
Since the Davenports don’t own over 30 percent of the city’s real estate or a handful of multibillion-dollar companies, I doubt Landon has a shot at dethroning my sister’s husband.
A smattering of applause concludes the end of my fiancé’s speech, and I’m finally free to leave the stage and the attention of over two hundred people. Landon helps me down with a hand under my elbow, and the two of us make our way into the crowd to greet our guests.
At least he’s polite, I tell myself, pasting a smile on my face as we’re congratulated by yet another person I’ve never met before.
Logistically speaking, Landon’s perfect—perfect family, perfect genetics, perfect teeth.
His hair is a little lighter than I prefer, and I’ve never been a fan of blue eyes, but he’s exactly the kind of man my parents have always expected me to marry.
His father is serving as home secretary, and his mother sits on the board of half a dozen charities.
The Davenport name opens doors many never dream of walking through, even if they’re not as insanely rich as the St. James family.
Landon plans to follow in his father’s footsteps, and he’s done an excellent job preparing for exactly that.
As the wife of a prominent politician, my main role will be supporting him.
Wesbourne has a parliamentary government and a monarchy, much like the United Kingdom. It’s too late for regrets, but I wish I’d taken a course in political science at university. Such knowledge certainly would be helpful once Landon and I are married.
“Hello, lovebirds.” Two hands squeeze my waist from behind, and I don’t have to turn to know who it is.
“Marlowe.” I drop Landon’s arm and turn to give one of my best friends a hug.
She presses a kiss to both my cheeks, enveloping me in a cloud of her Tom Ford perfume.
The fur stole around her shoulders tickles my chin, and I squeeze her for an extra second before releasing her.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I whisper in her ear.
Marlowe von Ziegesar is the friend you call when you need a party, revenge on an ex, or a distraction. And right now, I need a distraction in the worst way.
She winks at me before turning to my fiancé and offering a gloved hand. “Landon,” she says with a coquettish smirk.
He dutifully kisses the white satin of her glove, a composed smile on his face. Few people are immune to Marlowe’s charms; he happens to be one of them. “Thank you for coming,” he murmurs, dropping her fingers.
“You’ll never believe who I just signed a contract with,” she says to me the second he releases her.
Raising my brows, I take a sip of champagne, knowing she only needs a second of silence before she’ll spill all the details.
“You’re looking at the face of Valmont’s winter line,” she continues, framing her face with her hands and blowing a kiss in an iconic Marilyn pose.
I set down my glass and cover my mouth. “Oh my god, Marlowe. That’s amazing!”
I will never be the fashionista she is, but even I know what a big deal this is. She’s been modeling since long before we met at Cambridge, and this will completely change the trajectory of her career.
She squeals in excitement, drawing the attention of several nearby guests. They glance at us before turning back to their conversations.
“I’m so proud of you,” I say.
“Thank you.” Gripping my shoulders, she leads me several feet away from Landon, who is deep in conversation with a member of Parliament and doesn’t even notice. “How are you holding up?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, wishing I hadn’t set down my drink. “I’m great.”
Her eyes flicker between mine. “I’m just worried you’re having a midlife crisis.”
“I’m twenty-two,” I deadpan.
“Which is far too young to be getting married,” she whispers, leaning in close. “Especially to a guy you just met.”
“Landon and I have known each other for nearly six months.” I swipe a fresh flute from a passing tray and take a long drink.
My mother introduced us at a charity gala, but she’d told me enough about him beforehand that I felt like I already knew him.
Unfortunately, I don’t know much more now than I did that night.
“Babe, I don’t even introduce a new guy to my friends for at least six months,” Marlowe says, following my lead and grabbing a glass.
“You don’t date anyone for that long.”
She shrugs. “My point is, how well do you really know Landon? Why not date for a few years? What’s the rush to get married?”
“There’s no rush,” I say. “We’re just ready to start our lives together.”
“But Sutton and I will miss you so much when you move out.” She pouts, her red lips forming a perfect bow.
“You mean you’ll miss me tidying up after you.”
“Well, I wasn’t going to say it, but since you brought it up . . .”
I roll my eyes, but the corners of my mouth lift in a smile.
I’m going to miss staying up until 2 a.m. talking about men while sipping Marlowe’s infamously strong martinis.
I’m going to miss Sutton destroying the kitchen while she whips up something she promises will “rock our world.” I’m even going to miss the two of them cranking up their Bluetooth speakers in an attempt to drown out each other’s music.
“I’m going to miss you, Mar.” Emotion makes my voice squeak. “But you won’t get rid of me that easily.”
“Come here.” She pulls me in for a hug, and I bury my face in her faux fur, careful not to spill champagne on it.
I’m not delusional enough to think things won’t change after the wedding.
I’ll be expected to attend events with Landon, not my friends.
And while they’re all hanging out at Bash and Cassian’s playing video games, I’ll be tucked away in my husband’s house, playing wife.
It may not be exactly what I would’ve chosen for myself, but sometimes you can’t have everything you want.
Marlowe releases me, giving me an appraising look. “Being engaged looks good on you,” she says. “I’m happy for you, Viv. Disappointed for myself, but thrilled you found someone who loves you.”
I give her a smile I hope looks more grateful than sad. While Landon would certainly profess admiration for me, I’m not sure he feels anything close to love. “Thank you,” I say, hoping she can’t hear the tremor in my voice.
My mother approaches and gives Marlowe a cool smile.
“Marlowe. How nice to see you. Thank you for coming.” She practically has to force the words out between her clenched teeth.
She’s made it no secret over the years how she feels about my choice of friends, but fortunately, she usually reserves those lectures for when we’re behind closed doors.
“Do you mind if I steal Vivienne for a few minutes?”
“Of course not,” Marlowe says, holding up her glass. “I need a refill anyway.” As she walks away, the sequins on her dress catch the light, throwing sparkles onto every nearby surface.
My mother clamps a hand onto my arm, and I wish I could follow Marlowe. “What are you doing?” she hisses. “You left Landon alone while you cavorted with your friends.”
“We were just talk—”
“What you were doing is ignoring your fiancé. Now get over there and look like the happy bride that you are.”
Sighing, I let my eyes close for one brief second as I recover my composure. “You’re right, Mum. I’m sorry.”
She gives a nod of approval, then scans my outfit. I’m wearing a sleeveless black gown with pearl straps. A diamond choker hugs my throat. “You look beautiful tonight.”
“Yes, she does.” My sister appears on our mother’s other side. “Although I would’ve gone with a little less eyeshadow, personally.”
“Maeve,” I say. “How nice of you to drop in.”
She shrugs. “We came for the free food.”
“Don’t listen to her.” My brother-in-law wraps an arm around me. “We’re thrilled for you.”
“Thanks, Pierce.” I give him a weak smile. I’m grateful for their support. I just wish circumstances were different.
“Thank you all for coming.” Landon slides an arm around my waist as he joins our group. “Viv and I couldn’t do this without you.”
Trying to force my muscles into relaxing, I remind myself not to freeze every time he touches me.
He has never once hurt me. If he ever does, I have no doubt my friends will step in—the guys will beat him into a bloody pulp while the girls scratch out his eyes with their nails.
My apprehension doesn’t come from fear. It comes from building a prison and locking myself into it.
As Pierce and Maeve drift off into the crowd and my mother moves to talk to the Duchess of Whitmere, I’m alone once more. Alone in a crowded room, on the arm of the stranger I’m going to marry in four of the shortest months of my life.
“Congratulations, Viv.”
The voice comes from behind me, and I spin around too quickly, too abruptly. A slosh of champagne spills onto my hand. “Cassian,” I breathe out. “You came.”
My eyes drink in the sight of him. He’s wearing a tux like all the other men, including the servers, but he somehow still manages to look like a rogue.
Maybe it’s the dark hair flopping into his eyes, or the small flame tattooed on the side of his neck, or the half dozen rings scattered across his fingers.
Either way, Cassian Cordero looks as out of place here as costume jewelry in my mother’s collection of heirlooms. He might also be the best thing I’ve seen all evening.
His eyes don’t crinkle into a smile the way they used to when we were young. He turns woodenly to Landon and extends his hand. “I’m happy for you both.” His words are clipped, as if he’s giving a well-rehearsed speech. He hates these kinds of functions, but even so, he seems sulkier than usual.
We stand there awkwardly for several seconds, until my manners catch up to me. “Landon, you remember—”
“Cassian,” Landon says, gripping his hand. “Of course. Thank you for coming.”
“I wouldn’t miss Viv’s engagement party for the world.” There’s a bite in Cass’s voice that sends a razor blade through my heart. I try to meet his gaze, but he is studiously avoiding my eyes.
We stand there awkwardly for several moments. Landon, the great conversationalist, suddenly has nothing to say. Luckily for all of us, he’s pulled away by yet another member of Parliament.
As soon as Landon’s back is turned, Cass says, “I’ll see you later, Viv.”
I grab his sleeve before he disappears entirely and I don’t see him the rest of the night. “Cass.”
He turns around, brow cocked, but doesn’t say anything. His white shirt looks even brighter against his light brown skin.
I release my grip on his jacket. “It means a lot that you came. Thank you.”
He flicks his hair out of his eyes, his rings catching the light. “Why wouldn’t I come?”
“Because you hate these things?”
A sardonic grin spreads over his face as he lifts his empty glass. “I never turn down free booze.”
Something crumbles inside my chest like a sand castle. My wishful thinking? My childish fantasies? Whatever it is, the waves wash it away until it’s nothing but a memory. “Great,” I say. “Make sure you take full advantage of that.”
He tosses me a wink. “Don’t worry. I intend to.”