14. Vivienne
Vivienne
I’ve been at Belgrave Park for three days now, and I’ve managed to avoid Cassian for most of them.
I’ve caught glimpses of him working around the estate, but other than our encounter in the kitchen that first night, you’d never know we’re sleeping under the same roof.
If it were anyone else, I’d wonder if they’d decided not to stay here after all, but when Cass makes an agreement, he sticks to it like peanut butter.
Covering my mouth as I yawn, I pad into the kitchen and abruptly stop. Cass is at the counter making coffee. His white T-shirt stretches taut over the muscles in his arms and back, setting off his tan, which has only grown darker since being here.
Suddenly aware that I’m in nothing but skimpy lingerie and a satin dressing gown, I cinch the belt of my robe tight, covering up everything but my legs. I spin on my heel and head for the door so I can put some real clothes on.
“Morning. Want some?” Cass says before I can escape.
I freeze, then slowly turn back around to face him, a giant smile pasted on my face. “Hi! I’m okay. Thanks, though,” I say brightly, as if he didn’t just catch me slinking away.
His eyes sweep over me like a paintbrush, leaving a flush in their wake. “Want me to stick it in the fridge for later?” He holds up a porcelain mug.
“What is it?”
“An oat milk latte.”
My mouth waters. “You made that for me?”
He leans back against the counter and takes a sip from his own cup. “You don’t have to drink it. It’s not Café de Olla or anything.”
“It’s not that. I’m just surprised.”
“By what?” He eyes me over his mug. “The fact that I know your coffee order or that I made it for you?”
“Both?” I give him a sheepish smile and accept the warm drink.
He shifts, making his chest muscles ripple beneath his shirt. “I know what everyone drinks. Don’t go getting any ideas.”
I know he means it as a joke, but it stings all the same. As if I could ever forget exactly how he feels about me. “I don’t believe you,” I say with a sniff.
He shrugs and props his hands on the counter behind him. I avert my eyes from the way his biceps strain at his sleeves, but they just alight on the tattoos scattered across his arms and the silver rings on his fingers. Finally, I settle for staring at the floor.
“Try me,” he says.
“Okay,” I muse, taking a cautious sip of my latte. As the flavor registers, I blink at him. “Did you put vanilla syrup in here?”
He scratches the back of his neck, which makes his shirt rise, revealing a sliver of his Calvin Kleins.
“Sugar-free?” I ask, tearing my eyes away as my face heats.
Cocking a brow, he gives me a look that says I’m a fool to doubt him.
“Okay,” I acquiesce, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach. “Let’s start with an easy one—Bash.”
“Triple-shot cappuccino.”
I shrug. My brother doesn’t keep quiet about the things he likes. “Like I said, an easy one. What about Sutton?”
“Flat white with almond milk.”
Inclining my head, I study him. “I’ll have to—”
“Straight espresso when she’s in a hurry,” Cass adds.
A surprised laugh slips past my lips. “Which is all the time. Shep?” I take another sip of coffee. It rivals any high-end shop I’ve ever been to.
“Black, no nonsense.”
“Impressive.” I have no idea if he’s right or not, but the ease with which he rattles them off tells me he probably is. “Marlowe.”
He yawns, covering his mouth with his hand. “She doesn’t drink coffee, only matcha.”
“Consider me thoroughly impressed,” I say. “Well done, Cordero.”
“You forgot someone.”
“Who?”
Crossing his ankles, he studies me. “Briar drinks iced coffee with lavender cold foam.”
“Right. I forgot you two are friends.” A thread of unease winds its way around my spine, and I drop my gaze to my cup.
“More like work colleagues. She helps out at the shop occasionally. We’ve talked a few times.”
“Are you planning to give my brother competition?” I ask.
Cass snorts. “I wouldn’t go after Bash’s girl in a million years. Not to mention, I’d never date my boss’s little sister.”
Nodding, I press my tongue against my teeth. There are a lot of things Cassian would never do. At least I’m not the only female on the list. “I need to go, but thanks for the latte.”
He raises his cup in a mock salute. “Anytime.”
As I retreat upstairs, I hope he doesn’t mean it, or things are about to get very messy.
Later that morning, when I’m confident Cass is no longer in the house, I take my laptop to the library to work on wedding details.
There’s a desk in my suite, but I prefer being surrounded by books.
Not only that, but my bedroom faces the heath in front of the house.
This window overlooks the back gardens, which is a much better view.
A view which currently contains one Cassian Cordero digging up the stone path that winds through the rose garden.
Over the past century, the walkway has sunk, making it unsafe. It needs to be repaired before the wedding, but frustration rises in my chest all the same. Why must he to do that right now, in my direct line of sight?
I grind my teeth and lower my gaze from the window.
Focus. The wedding planner sent over a list of proposed decor several days ago, and I have yet to get back to her.
Between wanting to spend as much time with Rhya as I can and getting distracted by my housemate, I haven’t accomplished much of anything for my upcoming nuptials.
My phone rings, and my mother’s photo appears on the screen. I stifle the urge to groan and answer it. “Hello, Mother. How are you?”
“I just spoke to the wedding planner.” Her voice could cut glass.
“I’m doing well myself, thank you.” My eyes move back to the window. Cassian bends over and jostles another stone from the dirt. “So nice of you to call.”
“Stop it, Vivienne. This is serious,” she says.
Even though she can’t see me, I shift my attention away from Cass, because she’s right. I’m getting married in two months. It’s time to focus on what’s important. “I’m listening, Mum.”
“She said you have yet to approve her proposal for the decor.”
“I’m actually working on that right now. I’ll have it done by the end of the day.” The document is six pages long and filled with a bunch of ideas I don’t care for. Coming up with alternatives is tedious, even with Pinterest at my fingertips.
“Why don’t I let her know that you’re okay with everything, and we can move on to other things.” It’s not a question.
“Mother,” I say, trying to keep the edge out of my tone, “you agreed to let me handle this.” I left the city to escape. Maybe I should’ve left my phone behind, too.
“But you’re not handling it, Vivienne. You’re holed up in the country, doing god only knows what. I agreed to let you go on the condition that you would put in more effort than you have been. Instead, I find out you’ve hardly done anything since leaving.”
“I—”
She doesn’t let me finish, just continues her tirade, listing all the ways I’m disappointing her. She’s right—again. I have been slacking. Two months seems like a long way off, but it’ll be here before I know it. My breakfast threatens to evacuate my stomach at the thought.
I lean back in my chair as she details exactly how I should be spending my time, and let my gaze drift back outside. The sunshine is hitting everything and making it sparkle—the water in the fountain, the panes of the garden shed windows, the sweat on Cassian’s brow.
Sitting up with a jerk, I mentally chastise myself for once again watching him. But my mother is still droning on in my ear, so it’s not like I can get anything done until she’s finished anyway.
My text chime goes off at the same time as Cass stops to pull his phone out of his pocket. A brief smile lifts his lips as his thumbs dance across the screen, then he puts the device away and continues working.
My phone pings several more times, and curiosity gets the best of me. While my mother continues extolling the virtues of ecru linens over eggshell, I open our group chat.
Marlowe: @Cass @Viv come home. The city is boring without you.
Bash: Speak for yourself. You’re not roommates with a storm cloud.
Cass: Fuck off, asshole.
Sutton: For the first time ever, Mar is right. We miss you guys.
Marlowe: *middle finger emoji*
Shep: I’ll get us a table at Olive & Ash if you come back this weekend.
Me: Count me in! xx
I can’t wait to see everyone again, even if it means spending time with Landon and my mother and not being able to avoid Cassian the way I should. Thinking about him pulls my eyes to the garden again.
He mops his brow with the hem of his shirt, then pulls the entire thing over his head in one fluid motion. My mouth goes dry. Sweat glistens on his skin, highlighting the sculpted muscles in his shoulders and back.
His torso looks like it’s been chiseled from granite, every inch hard and unyielding, with deep grooves between his abs.
Tattoos are sprinkled over his smooth brown skin, but he’s too far away for me to make out what they are, except for the huge eagle spanning the width of his back, wings outstretched.
Sunlight glints off the silver cross hanging around his neck.
“Vivienne? Are you listening to me?”
I nearly drop the phone in my haste to tear my eyes away from Cassian. God, you’d think I’d never seen him without a shirt before. “I’m here,” I mumble, no clue what she’s been saying for the past five minutes.
“Listen, I know this whole thing has been hard on you,” she says. “But Landon is a good guy. The two of you will have a wonderful life together. Preparing for marriage is hard enough without getting bogged down with a thousand wedding details. I’m just trying to help you.”
“I know, Mum,” I say. “I am grateful.”
“Why don’t you let me handle the decor decisions? I know what you like.”
I sigh. If the engagement party was anything to go by, she clearly doesn’t. “That’s fine, Mum. I’ll let you choose the decorations.”
“Wonderful.” I can hear the satisfied smile in her voice. “I’ll take care of everything. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
I murmur my appreciation, my eyes straining to look back at Cass. “I need to go, Mum.” My chair squeaks on the hardwood as I stand up and end the call. I need to get out of here before I do something stupid.
Running five miles in the country is quite a bit different than doing the same in the city, but it feels incredible to stretch my calves again.
Riding Rhya has brought its own set of aches and pains, and if I don’t want to hobble down the aisle on my wedding day, it’s time to whip my core into better shape.
As soon as I cool off, I need to do a Pilates session.
I round the corner of the house, planning to enter through the terrace, when I run into a hard wall of muscle. Hard, slick muscle. Instinctively, I take a step back and nearly lose my footing on the stone path.
Cass reaches out and grabs my arms before I can fall into an ungraceful heap on the ground. As soon as I’m steady on my feet again, he drops his hands. “Sorry.” His voice sounds gruff.
“All good.” I move around him toward the house, my face flaming and my heart pounding.
My fingers have just closed around the door handle when he speaks. “Viv, wait.”
I suck in a deep breath, willing my heart to stop its erratic racing, and turn around to face him.
He’s still bare-chested, his T-shirt tucked into the back pocket of his jeans.
Now that he’s closer, I can see a raven tattooed above his left pec, flying away from the cluster of them on his arm.
On his right side is a gear with a heartbeat line running through it, and a thick black band is inked around his left bicep, looking like it’s slowly unraveling.
There are plenty of others I could stare at for hours, but I force my eyes up to his face.
He shoves a hand into his hair, lifting the sweaty strands off his forehead. “My dad was wondering if you want to join us for dinner tonight.”
I stare at him, wondering if I heard correctly. “Dinner,” I parrot.
“It was his idea,” he adds quickly, probably sensing my hesitation. “You don’t have to come.”
“I’d love to.” The words are out before I can truly consider the consequences.
Cass’s eyebrows lift, as if he wasn’t sure I’d say yes. “He’ll be glad. I told him you wanted to see him.”
“Great,” I say with a smile. “I’ll see you then.” Spinning on my heel, I’m through the door before I can question why the hell I thought this would be a good idea.