After Kane hung up, Diesel stood to leave. "I should get going, let you two figure out the details."
I walked him to the door, and Diesel paused on the threshold. "Julian," he said quietly, "I know this is new for you, but..."
"But what?"
"Don't fuck this up by trying to control everything. She's not like the others—she doesn't want to be managed or protected from every little thing. She wants to be your partner, not your possession. You're doing really well, asking her what she'd like to do. Keep it up."
The words hit closer to home than I cared to admit. "I know that."
"Do you? Because I've seen how you operate when something matters to you. You tend to lock it down, keep it safe, make sure nothing can hurt it." Diesel's expression was serious. "That won't work with her. She's not something to be collected and protected. She's someone to be trusted and respected."
I felt a flash of irritation. "Noted. Now shut up and get out of here."
Diesel's smile widened. "Good. She deserves someone who sees her as irreplaceable." He clapped me on the shoulder. "Take care of her. And let her take care of you too."
After Diesel left, I returned to the living room to find Vivienne sitting motionless on the couch staring at her hands. The stress of the day was written across her features, and I felt another surge of protective anger at whoever had orchestrated this invasion of her privacy.
"Hey," I said softly, sitting beside her again. "We're going to get through this."
"Are we?" Vivienne looked up at me with tired eyes. "Julian, I barely know how to navigate your world on a good day. This... this feels like being thrown into the deep end without knowing how to swim."
I reached for her hands, noting how they trembled slightly in my grasp. "Then I'll teach you to swim. And I'll make sure you never drown."
Vivienne's smile was watery but genuine. "You can't protect me from everything."
"Watch me," I said, and meant it completely.
Something shifted in Vivienne's expression, a spark of the passion I'd seen at the gallery, at the photo shoot. "Julian Thorne," she said, her voice gaining strength, "If you think I'm going to hide away and let some jealous model ruin what we have, you're wrong."
"I don't want you to hide," I said, though I wasn't entirely sure that was true. Part of me did want to wrap her up and keep her safe from all of this. "I want you to be safe."
"I want to be yours," Vivienne said simply, and the words hit me like a physical blow. "Not your secret, not your liability, not your problem to solve. Just yours."
I stared at her, at the determination in her eyes, the set of her jaw that suggested she'd made up her mind about something important. "Vivienne..."
"I'm not going anywhere," she said firmly. "Whatever this costs us, whatever we have to deal with, I'm not walking away from you because some gossip sites think our relationship is news."
The relief that flooded through me wasso intense it was almost painful. I'd been bracing myself for her to decide I wasn't worth the trouble, that my world came with too many complications she hadn't signed up for.
"You're sure?" I asked, needing to hear it again.
"I'm sure." Vivienne moved closer to me on the couch, her hands framing my face the way I'd done to her outside. "Are you?"
Instead of answering with words, I kissed her. It was meant to be soft, reassuring, a seal on our decision to weather this storm together. But the moment our lips met, the careful control I'd been maintaining all day began to fray.
The stress, the anger, the fear of losing her, the overwhelming relief that she was choosing to be with me—it all combined into a need so intense it took my breath away.
Vivienne responded immediately, her arms winding around my neck, her body pressing against mine with an urgency that matched my own. When she made that soft sound in the back of her throat, the one that drove me absolutely crazy, my restraint snapped entirely.
"Vivienne," I murmured against her mouth, my gloved hands finding the hem of her sweater. "I need..."
"Yes," she breathed, understanding immediately. "Yes, whatever you need."
I lifted her easily, carrying her up the stairs to her bedroom with the same desperate hunger I'd felt our first night together. But this was different—deeper, more necessary. This wasn't just desire, it was claiming, confirming, sealing the decision we'd just made with our bodies.
I set her down beside the bed, my hands working at her clothes with barely controlled movements. The blue sweater hit the floor, followed by her jeans, until she stood before me in simple cotton underwear that was somehow more erotic than the most expensive lingerie.
"So beautiful," I murmured, my gloved hands skimming over her curves, reacquainting myself with every dip and swell. "Mine."
