Chapter 9
Vivan
I spent the next day oscillating between euphoria and full-on panic.
One minute, I was reliving every second of the kiss, the weight of Alejandro’s sexy hands on my waist, the way he made the world drop away.
The next, I was tearing myself apart for how fast it all happened, how reckless I was being, how I’d somehow turned into the kind of woman who fell for the first man to rescue her.
At lunch, I called him.
“I’m sorry about last night,” I said, voice shaky. “I just— I don’t know what I’m doing.”
He laughed, soft and genuine. “Vivian, you never have to apologize for feeling things.”
I tried to explain, “It’s just— it’s all so fast. My divorce isn’t even official.”
He cut me off, gentle but firm. “I promised I’d never push you, remember? If you want to be friends, I’d be honored. If you want more, I’ll wait as long as you need.”
The knot in my chest loosened.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He was quiet for a moment. “I like you, Vivian. But I won’t risk losing you by making it about me.”
I smiled for the first time all day.
Ryan, meanwhile, was losing his grip.
He hired a PI, spent every night scouring the internet for dirt on Alejandro.
But every report came back the same: spotless career, clean financials, not even a traffic ticket.
The PI tried to dig deeper—family, associates, any skeletons—but all he got was a list of high-profile friends and a reputation for total discretion.
It made Ryan furious. “No one is that perfect,” he told the investigator.
The PI just shrugged. “Some people are ghosts, man. This guy is a pro.”
Ryan upped the ante: followed Alejandro, watched my apartment, even tailed me to the grocery store.
I spotted him once, parked in a beat-up sedan at the edge of the lot, staring straight ahead. He didn’t look at me, but I could feel his eyes.
Alejandro called the next day. “I have a favor to ask. The Bellandi Foundation is hosting a gala on Friday. Would you join me?”
I hesitated. “Is it safe? With Ryan and… everything?”
He sounded serious. “With me, you’re always safe.”
I said yes, despite my nerves.
His assistant dropped off a dress the morning of—blood-red, floor-length, the kind of thing you’d see on magazine covers. There was a note: “For the bravest woman I know.”
I tried it on and barely recognized myself.
The gala was in a glass museum overlooking the bay. Photographers swarmed the entrance, flashes popping with every arrival.
Alejandro met me at the curb, holding the door like a movie star. He wore a classic tux, hair combed back, smile easy and proud.
“You look incredible,” he said.
My cheeks flushed.
Inside, the room buzzed with energy: senators, CEOs, actors, the kind of crowd I’d only seen on TV. Alejandro introduced me to everyone, never letting go of my hand.
People watched us, whispered, but I didn’t care.
He stayed by my side all night. When we sat for dinner, he asked about my childhood, my favorite foods, the places I’d want to visit if money and time didn’t exist.
It was like he wanted to map out every hidden corner of my life.
I caught glimpses of something else, too. The way powerful men deferred to him, the way some seemed a little nervous when he passed.
When I asked, “Why do people act like you own the room?” he just smiled.
“Some people confuse confidence with danger,” he said. “They don’t realize the world’s only scary if you let it be.”
I liked that.
After dessert, he led me onto the terrace, away from the noise. The city lights shimmered on the water below.
“Are you having a good time?” he asked, voice low.
I nodded, afraid if I spoke, I’d ruin it.
He said, “You don’t have to pretend for me. If you ever want to run, just say the word.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to run. Not from you.”
He brushed a strand of hair from my face. “Then stay.”
We stood there, barely touching, as the world spun on without us.
As the night ended, Alejandro took my arm and led me out.
On the sidewalk, flashes went off. I tried to hide, but he held my hand steady.
He leaned in, whispering, “You’re safe.”
For a moment, I believed it.
As the car pulled away, I noticed the black SUV.
It followed us, block after block, headlights always two cars behind.
I tried to ignore it. Maybe I was just being paranoid.
But Alejandro saw it too. He squeezed my hand, eyes hard in the mirror.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “They won’t get close.”
I tried to smile, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that the world was about to crack open.
Holy. Freaking. Heck.
I wondered if I’d ever be safe again.