"Julian called and I was the closest to you, so I offered to come, but I'm sure he'll be here any moment," Diesel continued. "He's going to want to fix this. Problem is, in our experience, Julian's attempts to 'fix' media attention usually make things worse."
"What are you suggesting?" I asked weakly.
"That we need to get ahead of this before he does something rash." Diesel's expression was serious but not unkind. "Julian cares about you, more than he's cared about anyone in a long time. Which means he's going to want to protect you, even if it means making choices that aren't in either of your best interests."
As I was about to respond, another motorcycle rumbled down my road and into my driveway, and this time I recognized the sleek green bike immediately. Julian pulled up beside Diesel's bike, his movements sharp with barely controlled energy as he dismounted and strode toward us.
Even through his helmet, I could see the tension in his posture, the carefully contained anger that radiated from every line of his body.
When he pulled off his helmet, his steel-gray eyes went immediately to my face, and I saw his expression soften with concern.
"Vivienne," he said, reaching me in three quick strides. "Are you alright? I came as soon as I could."
"I'm fine," I said automatically, though we both knew it wasn't true.
Julian's hands framed my face gently, his thumbs brushing across my cheekbones as he studied my expression. "No, you're not. What happened? Did someone contact you about the photo?"
"My principal called me in today," I admitted, feeling tears threaten for the first time since the morning. "The school board saw the picture. They're... concerned about negative publicity."
Julian's jaw tightened, and I could see anger flashing in his eyes. "What kind of concerns?"
"The kind that could cost me my job if our relationship gets messy or goes south."
The words hung in the air between us, heavy with implication. Julian's hands dropped from my face, and I saw something shift in his expression—determination mixed with something that looked almost like resignation.
"Then we'll make sure it doesn't get worse," he said quietly.
But I had the sinking feeling that whatever Julian was planning to fix this situation, it wasn't going to be the solution either of us really wanted.
The perfect day I'd started with was officially over. Now we had to figure out how to salvage what was left of our relationship from the wreckage of unwanted attention and institutional pressure.
All because someone had taken a picture of two people who cared about each other attending an art gallery together.
As I looked between Julian's determined face and Diesel's concerned expression, I realized that my biggest fear wasn't the motorcycle ride I'd been nervous about all day.
It was the possibility that our relationship might not survive the media storm that was apparently just beginning.
17
Julian
I felt the familiar surge of protective rage that had gotten me into trouble more than once in my life. The sight of Vivienne's pale face, the strain around her eyes, the way she was trying to hold herself together—it made me want to burn down everything that had caused her pain.
"Inside," I said quietly, my hand finding the small of her back. "We need to talk about this properly."
Diesel nodded, following us up the steps to Vivienne's front door. As we settled in her living room, I noted the stack of graded papers on her dining table, evidence of the weekend she'd spent working while I'd been counting the hours until I could see her again.
"Show me where it's at now," I said to Diesel, my voice carrying the command authority that had served me well in the military and in business.
Diesel pulled out his phone again, scrolling through what appeared to be multiple gossip sites. "It started with a small segment in Celebrity Insider late last night. But look at this, it's been picked up by at least five other sites in the last few hours."
I studied the screens, my jaw tightening with each swipe. The same photo, over and over, with increasingly speculative headlines. Some of the sites had already started digging, mentioning Vivienne's name, her profession, even the school where she worked.
"This isn't organic," I said grimly. "Photos from gallery openings don't spread this fast unless someone's pushing them."
"That's what I thought," Diesel agreed. "Which is why I called Kane on my way over here. He's already working his contacts to trace the source."
Vivienne sank onto her couch, looking overwhelmed. "I don't understand any of this. It's just a photo of us walking together. Why is it such big news?"
