Chapter 18: It Wasn’t A Bad Decision After All
It was a beautiful, beautiful early morning.
The kind of morning that almost looked innocent, as if the world itself wanted to forget the sins of the night before. The sunlight slipped softly through the tall windows of the Rousseau chateau, painting golden lines across the marble floor. The air was quiet, heavy with the silence that comes after storms.
Vivienne lay in the grand bed, her body tangled in sheets far too fine for her. She looked peaceful at first glance, but inside her heart was restless. Her eyelashes trembled against her cheeks. Her lips parted slightly as if whispering secrets even in her sleep.
And then she stirred.
Her eyes snapped open suddenly, like someone had thrown her from one world into another. She sat up with a sharp breath, her heart pounding. Her hands clutched at the sheets, dragging them quickly over her chest.
Her gaze darted around the room. The carved posts of the bed. The heavy curtains. The gilded furniture. And then the horrible, sickening realization. She was naked. Naked in André’s bed.
Her whole body stiffened.
She whispered to herself in horror, "You fucking fool."
Her voice was shaky, disgusted. "You actually begged for cock. You begged like some desperate virgin while he ruined you. God. What is wrong with you."
Her face burned hot, but her stomach twisted with cold. She wanted to sink into the floor. She wanted to claw her own skin.
Then the door opened.
Her head jerked up.
André entered the room.
He was calm, collected, and far too neat for a man who had done what he had done the night before. His dark hair was combed back smoothly. His clothes were fresh and perfect, every button in place. In his hands he carried a silver tray. The smell of it reached her first. Rich. Heavy. Tempting.
On the tray was a breakfast only a duke could casually serve. A golden croissant layered with butter. A plate of smoked salmon arranged in perfect curls. A bowl of fresh figs and cherries, their skins glistening. A small glass jar of honey so clear it looked like captured sunlight. There was also a pot of thick hot chocolate, steaming and sweet, beside delicate porcelain cups painted with roses.
He carried it like an offering.
And then he smiled.
That smile.
It was soft, sweet, the kind of smile that would make any girl fall in love. His lips curved gently, his eyes softened with tenderness. He looked exactly like a man in love.
"You’re finally awake," he said warmly.
But in his head, the thought was sharp. I thought you wouldn’t wake up at some point. Things would have been boring if you died.
Vivienne stared at that smile, and her stomach twisted.
Gross. What does he think this is? The morning after our wedding? Smiling all sweet after trying to fuck me to death last night? He looks like a husband bringing his blushing bride breakfast. Disgusting.
He walked to the bed slowly, each step calm, and placed the tray on the table beside her. Then his hand came up to her face. He cupped her cheek gently, his thumb brushing her skin with tender care.
"You’ve been quiet since yesterday," he said softly. "Are you okay?"
Vivienne’s skin crawled under his touch. But she forced herself to play the part. She pulled the blanket tighter around her, lowered her eyes, and whispered in a shy voice, "I’m fine, my lord."
His gaze softened even more. His hand stroked her cheek like she was glass. His voice dropped. "It must have been your first time yesterday."
Her face flamed red. Not because she was shy, but because she almost laughed in his face. First time? Maybe if you mean first time with a duke. First time nearly killed by sex, sure. But first time ever? Not even close.
She bit her lip hard, forcing herself to look down, pretending.
André leaned closer, his voice dripping with regret. "I’m really sorry. I lost control yesterday. I hope I didn’t hurt you."
His tone was so gentle, so caring, it was almost insulting.
Vivienne whispered softly, "It’s fine."
His hand caught hers. He brought it to his lips and kissed it slowly, almost reverently. "You don’t have to worry. I’ll take responsibility for you. I’ll provide for you."
Vivienne’s mind screamed. Take responsibility? Provide for me? What the hell is this, a fairytale? You ruin me, then suddenly you’re Prince Charming? God, this is hilarious. Absolutely hilarious. He thinks I’m a little virgin who needs saving. He’ll bend over backwards for me. He’ll hand me whatever I want. The horse. The jewels. The whole world if I play this game right.
"Let’s have breakfast," André said sweetly.
Vivienne kept her head lowered, clutching the blanket as if embarrassed. "Let me get dressed first," she whispered, still acting shy.
"Of course," André said gently.
And then, like some absurd dream, he helped her.
He picked up her dress carefully. He held it open for her, his eyes politely lowered as though she was untouchable. He slipped the fabric over her shoulders, tied the laces with careful hands, smoothed the wrinkles as if it mattered.
Vivienne nearly laughed out loud. The same man who had me begging for mercy last night is now tying ribbons like my maid. If anyone saw this, they’d think he adored me. The devil himself pretending to be in love. Unbelievable.
When she was ready, they sat together at the table.
The tray was between them, the food shining like treasure. The sunlight hit the honey, making it glow golden. The steam from the chocolate curled into the air.
André smiled at her again, that same tender, false smile. "I made this for you," he said softly.
Vivienne widened her eyes, her lips parting in sweet surprise. "Really?" she asked, her voice soft as silk.
"Yes," he said, his smile deepening. "I wanted to do something for you after last night."
She smiled back, her eyes shining as though touched deeply. Inside, her thoughts cut sharp as knives. Sleeping with him wasn’t such a bad idea after all. If this is how he acts now, perfect. Let him think I’m innocent. Let him think I’m his first love. He’ll do anything for me. It won’t be long before he hands me the horse on a silver platter.
She tilted her head slightly, giving him her sweetest look, the look of a girl falling in love.
André watched her, still smiling, still soft, but inside his mind the thought coiled like smoke. This will be fun.