13. Vivienne #2
We take the sofa opposite my parents, Jaxon's hand finding mine in silent support. The gesture doesn't escape my mother's notice; her eyes tracking the movement with calculated assessment.
"I'll be direct," she begins. "Last night's... display has forced us to reconsider our position."
"Display?" Jaxon's voice holds a quiet challenge.
"The concert," Father clarifies, distaste evident. "That public spectacle of affection."
I feel Jaxon tense beside me. "I wrote a song for my fiancée and kissed her. Hardly scandalous."
"Be that as it may," Mother interjects smoothly, "it's clear this engagement is more serious than we initially believed."
Something in her tone makes me wary. This isn't going in the direction I expected.
"Since you appear committed to this path," she continues, "we've decided to formally welcome you to the family, Mr. Hart."
Jaxon and I exchange surprised glances.
"That's... unexpected," I say carefully.
"Don't misunderstand," Father adds. "We still have reservations. But your mother believes—and I reluctantly agree—that public opposition would only damage the Clarke reputation at this point."
"Speaking of business," Jaxon says, voice deceptively casual, "what about Vivienne's career? Last I heard, you were threatening to undermine it if she continued our relationship."
Father's expression hardens. "My daughter's career prospects are a family matter, not yours to question."
"Actually," I interrupt, "as my fiancé, Jaxon has every right to be concerned about attempts to control my professional life."
The tension in the room ratchets higher as my father and Jaxon stare each other down. Mother, ever the diplomat, steps in.
"Perhaps we should all take a moment. Tea will be served shortly." She rises gracefully. "Vivienne, assist me in the kitchen?"
It's not a request. I squeeze Jaxon's hand before following her, leaving him alone with my father—a prospect that should worry me more than it does.
In the kitchen, Mother busies herself with the silver tea service—a task she would normally delegate to staff.
"What's this really about?" I ask, leaning against the counter. "The sudden acceptance doesn't track with Father's ultimatum last night."
She arranges delicate porcelain cups with precise movements. "Circumstances change. Adaptability is a sign of intelligence."
"Mother."
She sighs, finally meeting my eyes. "The board of the Children's Cancer Foundation called this morning. They want Jaxon as their honorary chairman for next year—with you as co-chair of the gala committee. Apparently, your romance has captivated their donors."
The calculated nature of their acceptance makes me laugh bitterly. "Of course. It's not about my happiness—it's about social connections and board positions."
"Don't be naive, Vivienne." She places sugar cubes in a silver bowl with careful precision. "Marriage has always been about alliances and mutual benefit. Your father and I merely want to ensure you're making a beneficial choice."
"I love him," I say suddenly, the words escaping before I can consider their truth.
Mother's hands still, her eyes sharp as they assess me. "Do you? Or are you simply rebelling against your father's disapproval?"
The question hits uncomfortably close to old insecurities. Is this real, or just another form of rebellion?
"I—" I begin, then stop as the kitchen door swings open.
It's Jaxon, his expression carefully neutral but tension evident in the set of his shoulders.
"Mrs. Clarke," he says with practiced politeness. "I apologize for the interruption, but we should be going. My lawyers have requested a call about the custody hearing."
Mother's smile doesn't reach her eyes. "Of course. We wouldn’t want to keep you from such important matters."
The subtext is clear: she doesn't believe him, but she's too well-bred to call him a liar directly. As we return to the living room, Father is standing by the window, back rigid with disapproval.
"Leaving so soon?" he asks, not turning around.
"Unexpected interruption," Jaxon replies, his hand finding the small of my back. The casual possessiveness of the gesture doesn't escape my parents' notice.
Mother's gaze narrows slightly. "We'll expect you both to behave appropriately in social situations protecting the Clarke name."
The shift is jarring—from open hostility to social planning. But that's how the Clarke family operates: appearances above all, private feelings tucked neatly away.
Father turns, his expression cold. "This isn't optional, Vivienne. Your mother is close to key members of the board. The Children's Cancer Foundation expects its new honorary chairman to be above reproach."
Jaxon’s eyebrows raise in surprise. "Honorary chairman?"
"They called this morning," Mother explains with a thin smile. "Apparently, your romance has captivated their donors. They want you as their honorary chairman for next year—with Vivienne as co-chair of the gala committee."
I feel Jaxon's hand tense against my back, but his expression remains carefully neutral. "We appreciate the foundation’s offer. We’ll be in touch our decision." he says smoothly.
As we make our goodbyes and head for the elevator, the tension between us is palpable. Neither of us speaks until we're safely in the car, Manhattan's gleaming towers sliding past the tinted windows.
"That went better than expected," Jaxon offers finally.
I laugh without humor. "Better? They've gone from threatening to cut me off to exploiting our relationship for board positions. I’m not sure I would call that improvement."
"At least they're not actively trying to sabotage us anymore." He glances over. "Though I'm not sure I want to be anyone's honorary chairman."
"It's not about you," I explain bitterly. "It's about what you represent—access, influence, the right kind of publicity. The Children's Cancer Foundation board is old money meets new influence. My parents have been trying to secure positions for years."