Chapter 19 Vivienne
Vivienne
"The riding gear is at my studio," Julian explained, running his hand along the bike's smooth lines with obvious affection. "I left everything there when Kane called me yesterday."
"I can follow you there and leave my car," I suggested. "That way we can ride straight from the studio."
Julian's smile was warm with approval. "Perfect. Just stay close—city traffic can be unpredictable."
My phone buzzed with a text from Lydia.
Lydia: Where are you? Your first period was asking me about their quiz today when they couldn’t find you.
I stared at the message, reality setting in. My students were sitting in my classroom right now, probably wondering where I was, not knowing that their teacher had been essentially fired for having a boyfriend.
Vivienne: I won't be in today. I've been placed on administrative leave. I'll call you later to explain.
The response came within seconds.
Lydia: WHAT?! I'm calling you right now.
True to her word, Lydia's call came through immediately. I answered on the second ring.
"What the hell do you mean administrative leave?" Lydia's voice was sharp with outrage.
"Exactly what it sounds like," I said, giving my friend a brief rundown of the phone call. "Apparently the media attention is too much for the board to handle."
"This is insane, Viv. You're one of the best teachers in the school. The kids love you, your test scores are excellent, you've never had a single complaint. They can't fire you for having a boyfriend."
"They're not firing me," I corrected. "They're 'reviewing my employment status.' Which could lead to firing me."
"Over a photograph of you looking happy with a man you're dating. Jesus Christ, what decade are we living in?"
Despite everything, I found myself smiling slightly at my friend's indignation. "Thanks for being angry on my behalf. It helps."
"Of course I'm angry. This is ridiculous. What are you going to do?"
I looked over at Julian, who was watching me with an expression of barely controlled fury as he gripped his coffee in one of my mismatched mugs. "I'm going to try not to let them win. And I'm going to enjoy the day with my boyfriend, who cleared his entire schedule to spend time with me."
"Good for you," Lydia said fiercely. "Don't let the bastards get you down. I'll call you later with any gossip from the teacher's lounge."
After we hung up, Julian reached for me and I let myself sink into his arms to just process the whole thing all over again.
Twenty-four hours ago, I'd been excited about my job, passionate about my students, secure in my career. Now I was balancing on a knife’s edge, potentially to be unemployed, all because I'd fallen for the wrong man.
Except Julian wasn't the wrong man. He was complicated, yes, and his world came with challenges I'd never anticipated. But he was also kind, talented, passionate about his work, and more genuinely caring than anyone I'd ever been with.
I squeezed him tight before letting go, ready to get to the exciting part of the day.
The drive to Julian's studio gave me time to process the morning's events. Less than two hours ago, I'd had the rug ripped out from under me from the job I loved. I should be devastated, should be calling lawyers or writing appeals or doing something productive to fight the injustice.
Instead, I was following my boyfriend to his workplace so we could go on a motorcycle ride together.
Maybe Lydia was right—maybe I needed to stop being so responsible all the time and learn to live a little.
The studio district looked different in daylight, less industrial and more artistic. I could see why Julian had chosen this area—it had the kind of creative energy that would inspire innovation while still maintaining the professional atmosphere necessary for serious business.
I parked next to Julian's bike and followed him through the glass doors into the lobby I remembered from last week. Roy looked up from his desk with surprise, then something that might have been relief.
"Mr. Thorne! I wasn't expecting you today. I thought you'd cleared your schedule."
"I did," Julian confirmed. "We're just here to pick up something, then we'll be gone for the day."
Roy's eyes shifted to me with curiosity and what looked like genuine warmth. "Ms. Ellis, good to see you again. How did you enjoy the photo shoot on Saturday?"
"It was incredible," I said honestly. "Watching Julian work was fascinating."
"He's quite something in creative mode," Roy agreed with obvious fondness. "Is it still the plan for me to hold all calls for the rest of the day?"
"Unless it's an emergency," Julian confirmed. "And Roy? If anyone from the media calls asking about my personal life..."
"I'll refer them to your publicist, who will tell them to mind their own business," Roy finished smoothly. "Standard protocol."
As we walked through the studio, I was struck by how different the space felt without the controlled chaos of a photo shoot.
The morning light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows illuminated workstations where sketches were pinned to boards, fabric samples were organized by color and texture, and dress forms displayed works in progress.
"This is where it all starts," Julian said, leading me to his private office. "Every collection, every piece, begins with an idea and a sketch."
I moved closer to study the drawings scattered across his drafting table. Even in rough pencil strokes, I could see the elegance and innovation that made Julian's work distinctive. These weren't just clothes—they were statements, stories, works of art that happened to be wearable.
"These are for fall?" I asked, noting the heavier fabrics and richer colors depicted in the sketches.
"Fall and winter," Julian confirmed, moving to stand beside me. "I've been working on the concept for months, but lately..." He paused, his hand finding the small of my back. "Lately I've been thinking about incorporating some new ideas."
"What kind of new ideas?"
Julian reached for a sketchpad I hadn't noticed, flipping it open to reveal drawings that were clearly inspired by me.
Not literal representations, but pieces that seemed designed for my body type, my coloring, my style.
The sketches showed flowing lines that would complement curves, necklines that would flatter my collarbone, hemlines that would make my legs look endless.
"Julian," I breathed, studying the drawings with amazement. "These are..."
"Inspired by you," he said simply. "By the way you move, the way you carry yourself, the way you look at the world. I've never designed for a specific person before, but you've changed that."
I felt tears prick at my eyes. In a morning that had started with devastating professional news, this reminder of how Julian saw me—as a muse, as an inspiration, as someone worth creating beauty for—was overwhelmingly touching.
"They're beautiful," I said softly.
"So are you," Julian replied, turning me to face him. "Every day, in every way."
The kiss that followed was gentle but intense, filled with all the emotions we couldn't quite put into words yet. When we broke apart, Julian rested his forehead against mine.
"Ready for your first ride?" he asked.
"More than ready," I said, meaning it completely.
Julian retrieved the riding gear from a closet in his office—an emerald leather jacket in my size, protective pants, boots, gloves, and a beautiful black helmet that sparkled in the light. As I tried everything on, I was impressed by the quality and the perfect fit.
"How do you get everything so perfect?" I asked, adjusting the jacket.
"I'm very good at measurements," Julian said with a smile that made me blush, remembering Monday night's fitting session. "And these are pieces I had designed a while back that we partnered with one of my local partners to sell at his store."
Several staff members nodded respectfully as we passed through the studio, but I caught the curious glances, the subtle speculation about Julian's personal life becoming more public.
I wondered if the media attention was affecting his business relationships, if his employees were fielding uncomfortable questions because of me.
"Julian," I said as we reached the lobby, "Is this causing problems for you professionally? The attention, the gossip?"
Julian paused, considering the question seriously. "Some clients are curious," he admitted. "But my work speaks for itself. Anyone who would stop doing business with me because of my personal life isn't someone I want to work with anyway."
"But if it affects your bottom line—"
"Vivienne." Julian's voice was firm but gentle. "You are not a liability. You're not a problem to be managed or a complication to be solved. You're the woman I care about, and anyone who doesn't like that can find another designer."
The certainty in his voice, the way he said it like there was no other possible position to take, made my heart skip.
Outside, Julian began the process of teaching me proper riding position and safety protocols. His hands were gentle but thorough as he adjusted my helmet, checked my jacket, explained how to position my feet and where to hold on.
"The most important thing is trust," he said, mounting the bike and waiting for me to settle behind him. "Follow my body when we lean into turns, don't fight the movement. And hold on tight."
I wrapped my arms around Julian's waist, marveling at how solid and reassuring he felt even through the leather jacket. When he started the engine, the vibration traveled through both our bodies, and I understood immediately why he loved this.
"Ready?" Julian called over the rumble of the engine.
"Ready," I called back, and we pulled out into traffic.