Chapter 2 - A Fiancé for the Evening
The ceremony lasted twenty minutes.
Vivien remembered almost none of it. She heard the officiant speak about trust, devotion, and the promises that made a marriage. She watched Adrian place a ring on Celeste's finger. She saw Celeste smile as if the whole world had been arranged for her comfort.
And she felt Damien's hand resting near hers beneath the table.
He did not hold it. He simply left his palm close enough that she could reach for it if she needed to.
When the officiant pronounced them husband and wife, the ballroom erupted in applause.
Vivien clapped too.
“Are you all right?” Damien asked.
“Perfect.”
“Your smile says otherwise.”
“My smile is expensive. I paid for it with three months of rent.”
He glanced at her gown. “It suits you.”
“Thank you.”
“Though you shouldn't have spent that much to make a point to a man who doesn't deserve one.”
She turned toward him. “You don't know anything about Adrian.”
“I know he watched you for most of the ceremony.”
Vivien looked away.
The reception began with champagne and photographs. Guests crowded around the newlyweds. Vivien and Damien were pulled into a group picture by Celeste's aunt, who insisted that all the bride's friends should be included.
“Stand closer,” the photographer instructed.
Damien placed his hand at Vivien's waist.
She felt the warmth of his palm through the silk.
“Smile, darling,” he murmured.
“I am smiling.”
“Not like you want to murder someone.”
She nearly laughed. The camera flashed.
After the photograph, a woman with a silver bob approached. She wore a dark green gown and an expression that suggested she had spent decades deciding which people deserved her attention.
“Damien Moretti,” she said.
“Mrs. Sinclair.”
The woman looked from him to Vivien. “I didn't realize you were bringing someone.”
“I wasn't planning to,” Damien replied.
“Then this must be a surprise.”
“Most good things are.”
Mrs. Sinclair's gaze settled on Vivien. “And you are?”
“Vivien Cross.”
“Cross.” The woman considered the name. “Do you work in design?”
Vivien nodded. “Brand identity and packaging.”
“Interesting. Celeste has been looking for someone to refresh the foundation's image.”
“I'd be happy to send her my portfolio.”
Mrs. Sinclair gave a faint smile. “We'll see.”
She turned back to Damien. “Your father sends his regards.”
“My father sends his regards to everyone when he wants something.”
The woman's smile vanished.
She moved away.
Vivien stared at him. “You know the bride's mother?”
“Socially.”
“That didn't look social.”
“Families can be complicated.”
Before Vivien could ask more, a waiter appeared with a tray of drinks. Damien took a glass of sparkling water instead of champagne.
“You don't drink?” she asked.
“I do. Not when I need to pay attention.”
“To what?”
He glanced around the ballroom. “People.”
Vivien followed his gaze. Adrian was standing beside his father, speaking with a man in a navy suit. The man wore a gold tie pin shaped like an anchor. When he noticed Damien, he looked away too quickly.
“Do you know him?” Vivien asked.
“No.”
“You're lying.”
“I'm being selective.”
She laughed softly. “You are a very strange escort.”
Damien turned to her. “Escort?”
“Sorry. Fake fiancé.”
“Better.”
“You still haven't told me why you agreed.”
“Maybe I wanted to see how the evening ended.”
“That's not an answer.”
“It's the one I have.”
The band began playing. Couples moved toward the dance floor.
Adrian approached their table.
“May I borrow Vivien for a moment?” he asked.
Damien looked at Vivien. “Do you want to?”
She hesitated.
“I can handle him,” she said.
Damien rose, then offered his hand to her. “Of course.”
Adrian led her toward the edge of the dance floor. His expression had lost its wedding-day softness.
“Who is he?” he asked.
“My fiancé.”
“Don't play games.”
“I'm not.”
“Vivien, you hired someone?”
She stared at him. “Excuse me?”
“You think I can't recognize a performance? You show up with some stranger and expect everyone to believe you've moved on?”
“I don't need you to believe anything.”
Adrian's jaw tightened. “You always did this. You turned everything into a scene.”
“You mean I stopped letting you take credit for my work?”
His face changed.
For a moment, the music seemed to fade.
Then Adrian smiled. “We're not discussing that tonight.”
“No. We're not.”
He leaned closer. “You should be careful who you attach yourself to. Men like him don't make promises they intend to keep.”
Vivien looked at him. “You don't know him either.”
“I know enough.”
She stepped away.
When she returned to Damien, he did not ask what Adrian had said. He simply held out his hand.
“Dance with me.”
“I don't know if I should.”
“Then let me lead.”
She placed her hand in his.
On the dance floor, Damien moved with easy confidence. He did not pull her too close. He gave her space, watching her expression rather than the room.
“You're good at this,” she said.
“I've had practice.”
“With fake fiancées?”
“With difficult situations.”
She looked up. “Is that what I am?”
“Not yet.”
The song ended.
For one second, they remained close. Vivien could smell his cologne, something dark and clean with a hint of cedar.
Then a voice interrupted them.
“Mr. Moretti. We need to speak.”
A broad-shouldered man stood behind Damien. He wore a black suit and an earpiece.
Damien's expression changed instantly.
“Not now, Luca.”
“It's urgent.”
Damien glanced at Vivien. “Excuse me.”
He stepped away with the man.
Vivien watched them cross the ballroom. The man spoke into Damien's ear. Damien's face hardened, and he looked toward the hotel windows.
She suddenly remembered the older guest who had stared at him.
Maybe Damien was not an escort at all.
Maybe she had just hired the wrong kind of stranger.
During the first course, Vivien tried to focus on the food. The meal was exquisite, but every time she lifted her fork she caught someone looking at their table.
A young woman in a pale gold dress leaned over from the next seat.
“I'm Harper,” she said. “I work with Celeste's charity.”
“Vivien.”
Harper smiled. “And you must be Damien.”
“That's right.”
“I've heard your name.”
Damien inclined his head. “I hope it was something kind.”
Harper laughed, but her eyes remained curious. “My father says your family has been buying half the waterfront.”
“Your father exaggerates.”
“He says that about everything.”
Vivien joined the conversation, grateful for the distraction. Harper asked about her design work and told her the foundation was planning a campaign for a new arts center. Vivien explained how she approached brand identity: not as a logo, but as a visual language that helped people understand what an organization stood for.
Harper listened closely.
“You should meet our director,” she said. “She needs someone who thinks like that.”
“I'd love to.”
When Harper returned to her table, Damien looked at Vivien with quiet approval.
“What?”
“You didn't mention your ex once.”
“I was talking about work.”
“Exactly.”
She smiled, then noticed Adrian watching from the head table.
The next speech came from Celeste's father, Richard Sinclair. He spoke about family, loyalty, and the importance of building a future on trust. Vivien found the words almost unbearable. Adrian had used the same language when he convinced her to work without a proper partnership agreement.
When the applause ended, Damien leaned close.
“Would you like to leave?”
She shook her head. “No. I want to finish dinner.”
“Then we'll finish dinner.”
It was such a small promise, but it mattered. He did not tell her what she should feel or decide. He simply stayed.
Later, the band played a slower song. Damien asked if she wanted to dance, and this time she accepted without hesitation. She realized he was not trying to make Adrian jealous. He was giving her a reason to forget Adrian was in the room.
When they returned to the table, Vivien found a folded card beside her plate. It had been placed there by a server.
She opened it.
Stop pretending. You don't belong here.
There was no signature.
Her fingers went cold.
Damien took the card, read it once, and slipped it into his inside pocket.
“Did you see who left it?” he asked the server.
The young man shook his head.
Damien thanked him and sat back down.
“Do you know who sent it?” Vivien asked.
“I have a suspicion.”
“Adrian?”
“Maybe.”
“Why would he care?”
“Because he knows you are not afraid of him anymore.”
Vivien looked across the room. Adrian had turned away, smiling at a guest.
For the rest of dinner, she kept her chin lifted.
When the dinner service paused, Vivien excused herself to the ladies' room. She stood at the sink beneath a row of warm lights and looked at herself in the mirror.
The dress was still beautiful. Her makeup was intact. But her expression had changed. She no longer looked like a woman waiting to see whether her ex would notice her.
She looked tired.
A woman at the next sink recognized her. “You're Adrian's ex, aren't you?”
Vivien turned.
“I've seen you in photographs,” the woman continued. “I always thought it was strange how quickly he replaced you.”
Vivien gave a polite smile. “People move on.”
“Some people move on before they finish telling the truth.”
The woman dried her hands and left.
Vivien stood alone for another moment. She realized that even strangers had heard Adrian's version of their relationship. She could not correct every rumor in every room. She could only decide what she would do next.
When she returned, Damien was waiting by the table.
“Everything all right?”
“Yes,” she said. “I think I'm finished trying to look like the person he wanted me to be.”
May you like
Damien pulled out her chair.
“Good,” he said. “I prefer the person sitting here.”
