by Kris Jayne
Micky pressed her fingers to her temples. Shouldn't that experience be enough to drive her away from Nick? He may not be married, but he'd made promises to another woman. Obviously, he was the kind of guy who took those promises lightly.
Micky would like to think the pull of attraction between them was special, but experience taught her otherwise. Once a cheat, always a cheat.
She walked across her office and threw her bags on the desk. Enough. She had her family, her friends, her job…she didn't need the Erics and the Nicks of the world to make her feel bad about herself. They weren't worth it. Never were.
Nick slammed on his brakes. The sound of screeching tires sent his heart racing. He brought his car up just short of rear-ending the person in front of him. He hadn't noticed the light turning red. Nick cursed and took a deep breath. Before he could deal with the potential for catastrophe on all fronts, he needed to get to Vivienne's place in one piece.
The look on Micky's face ran through his head repeatedly in the previous twenty-four hours. Her eyes wide. Her lips parted. Her skin flushed. He could have swept their drinks off the table and taken her right there. Who needed a hotel room? Then, she'd looked away in horror.
What had he been thinking to say that to her? She was right. He was a heel. He had a fiancée, and he should focus on one relationship at a time.
The only silver lining was he'd probably ruined any chance with Micky by being so crass. That meant he'd messed up any chance of getting close enough to her to find out more about Azur.
On that front, his adventure hadn't been a total loss. Azur was obviously planning a big move to expand. That was the good news. Moran Financial could put together an offer. Moran would have to move quickly, and Nick needed to find out who the other suitors might be. His screw up had at least clearly defined his priorities.
Besides, the thought of starting a relationship with another woman was insane. He just wanted to sleep with her. That, at least, he could admit to himself, but his future was with Vivienne. He'd called Viv the minute he watched Micky gallop out of the hotel bar and arranged to meet her ASAP, which turned out to be the next day.
"Good. We have something very important to discuss," she'd said over the phone.
He arrived at Vivienne's gorgeous Tudor-styled home shortly before the appointed time of eight o'clock. The door opened, and Nick glanced up at a pale and reserved Vivienne.
"Hi," he said and stepped over the doorjamb to give her a hug. Vivienne wrapped a stiff arm around his waist. He followed her through the family room and around the corner into her kitchen. The varied, floor-to-ceiling Italian tile gave an elegant country charm, which Nick had always found ironic.
"Would you like something to drink? I have the Balvenie that you love."
Vivienne pointed to a silver tray on the counter. It held a crystal decanter filled half-way with amber liquid and two crystal tumblers. Judging from Vivienne's demeanor, he would need the Scotch. She poured, added a couple drops of water, and handed the glass to Nick. He took a sip. The warmth of the whisky only made him more nervous. Bringing out the thirty-year single malt meant trouble.
"I know you must be confused about the past few months and then the other night," she said.
"I am. All I want is to talk with you and figure out what's going on. You know I'm here for you. Or maybe you don't," Nick said, shoving away the guilt over his escapade the evening before.
"I do. That's what makes this so hard."
"The last time we spoke, you said that you weren't sure where we were headed. You needed time to think. I'd hoped we could do some of that thinking together." He threw up his hands. "Now, I don't know what's happened."
"I do love you, Nick. Getting married to you is everything I could want, but…" Vivienne's voice started to shake.
"We don't have to do it for your parents, or their friends, or our friends. I don't need a big wedding. Is that what was starting to get you?"
"This isn't cold feet." Her voice suddenly popped with clarity.
Nick swallowed to dislodge the lump in his throat. "It isn't?"
Vivienne took a deep breath. "No. I have a problem. I need your help, but I'm not sure you're going to want to when I'm done saying what there is to be said."
"You're speaking in riddles, Vivienne. Just tell me."
She took an envelope out of a kitchen drawer and slid it toward him, keeping her hand on it so Nick couldn't take it and open it.
"Before you look at it. I need to tell you something. This was just a momentary thing. It doesn't have anything to do with us." Vivienne spoke in a rush, her breath trailing behind her words.
She pulled her hand back.
Nick opened the envelope and turned it upside down. A small package of pictures slid out. He squinted at the grainy images of what appeared to be Vivienne and another person kissing. Hot anger began to pulse in his chest. He looked closer. A woman. Vivienne was in the pictures kissing another woman. Despite the hard to decipher blur of short hair and unisex clothing, Nick could see the person had breasts and a softness in her figure.
One after another, the pictures showed Vivienne in various stages of making out. He flipped to another and saw the other woman with her hand up Vivienne's skirt. Maybe they were in a hallway? The lighting was terrible. Nick threw the evidence on the counter.
"What the fuck is this?"
Vivienne teared up, her lip trembling. "I made a mistake."
"'Oops, I kissed a woman'? You bumped into her, and your tongue slipped into her mouth? That's what you're telling me?"
"No. I…I was at a nightclub. And—"
"A nightclub? Which one?"
"Mary Sue's," Vivienne whispered hoarsely.
"You accidentally went to a lesbian bar?"
"I said it was a mistake. I didn't say it was an accident." Vivienne's downcast eyes narrowed in haughty exasperation. Always the diva. That's his Vivienne. Only she wasn't his. Was she?
"Are you gay?"
"No. Of course not. It's just that, um, I've experimented. I went to Mary Sue's with my friend Becky. She's gay. I got a little drunk."
The jangle of excuses flew at Nick so fast, he couldn't sort them out. The way she talked about experimenting sounded like more than a one-time thing. He knew women sometimes made out with each other at straight bars thinking it was cute, but that's not what this was.
"Here's what. You look me in the eye and tell me that you don't want to have sex with women. Do that, and we can keep talking."
Vivienne glared at him. "I have no intention of having sex with women. I'm engaged to you, and I want to marry you."
"That's the wrong answer, Viv. That's not what I asked." Nick turned away and stormed toward the door.
"Nick, wait."
"I can't be here right now. I'm going to say something I regret."
He kept walking until he got to his car, and then he drove. He didn't go home. He didn't call anyone. He just drove. His cell phone persistently pinged and buzzed, but he ignored it, knowing that if he answered he'd have to face the destruction of everything he thought he'd built.
Chapter Eleven
Nick finally made it home that night and drank himself silly, accomplishing nothing but giving him a wicked hangover that rendered work intolerable.
He had meetings all day with his partners to strategize for Moran Financial. Everyone around him kept referring to Tom Moran as his future father-in-law. At the end of the session, Bob Stratford told him, "Be sure to keep the man in a good mood, will you? I'm not convinced this is all going to go his way. And you know how he gets when things don't go his way."
Nick swallowed hard. What the hell was he going to do?
He didn't want to talk to Vivienne, but fifty messages and texts from her reminded him that they weren't done. Not yet.
In between his anger and confusion, he'd wondered who had taken the pictures and what their game was. Nick's future depended on making partner. Unfortunately, he'd been foolish enough to link his pa
rtnership prospects to his personal life. Avoiding Vivienne would solve nothing. Only she had the answers he needed.
So, he called her and agreed to come back to her house for round two of the worst "we need to talk" relationship conversation he'd ever had.
Walking back into her house felt like a death march. She had another Scotch waiting for him, and he wasted no time downing it. They sat on her sofa, staring at each other. Vivienne folded her legs underneath her, turned sideways to look at him.
"Thanks for coming back tonight. I wasn't sure if I'd end up waiting for days or weeks —"
Nick turned sideways himself and gripped the back of the sofa. "Or months. That's what you did to me. You left me hanging, Vivienne. Why is that?"
"The pictures. UPS delivered them to my design studio about four months ago, and I panicked. I've been frozen. I had no idea what to do. But, Nick, what I finally realized was that you and I could handle this together."
Nothing she said allayed his suspicions. "I need to get specific. What are we handling? Have you received any demands?"
"Not at first. I got those pictures. Then, I got this note." Vivienne handed Nick a piece of paper.
I could have sent this to anyone, but I sent them to you, thinking we could come to an understanding. Think: What's it worth to you for these to go no further? Not to your parents or your fiancé or the press. I'll be in touch.
"Did they contact you again?"
"Yes. This time, they named their price. Five hundred thousand dollars, which I don't have."
"What timeframe?"
"They didn't say. They just said they'd be in touch. That was a month ago. I've been going crazy. Finally, I knew I had to tell you."
"Why not just go to your father? A, he has the money. B, he'd eat this person for lunch."
"I cannot tell my parents."
Vivienne strangely seemed more distraught about telling her parents than dealing with a blackmailer. Whomever this was chose their target well.
"You could go to the police."
"That's just another way of telling my father," Vivienne whined miserably. "I'm telling you because you're the only one I can trust. Plus, you're an attorney. I thought you could help."
Nick leaned closer to her, putting his left hand on her knee. Nick had thought about their relationship all night. The blackmail shocked him. He still couldn't believe she hadn't spoken to him for months. However, Vivienne's being gay—nothing. No shock. Only anger at having been such a fool. The truth struck him plain as day now, but he needed her to say it.
"Here's the thing, Vivienne. If this is all a single drunken mistake, why the secrecy?"
"I…It…"
"Don't lie to me anymore."
Vivienne lost herself, and sobs overtook her. Nick wrapped his arms around her, and she sank into him. Not knowing what to say, he simply held her. Her quivering triggered his protective instinct even as his mind turned over the depth of her lies.
She had pretended to be interested, pretended to want the same things. Maybe she was also lying to herself, but she had sent him down a rabbit hole while he had steadily pushed their relationship forward.
Nick tensed, contemplating her betrayal.
Vivienne mewed. "I can't expect you to understand."
"I understand that you were kissing a woman and letting her slide into third base. That wasn't a one-time thing. Can't you just admit it?"
Vivienne's pale eyes shined. She didn't speak.
"You have nothing to say." Nick felt his anger burn again. "We've been dating—sleeping together—for over a year, and you call me to your house to show me lesbian blackmail pictures and beg for my help. But you don't think I'm owed any explanation. Boy, you are definitely a Moran."
"Fuck you, Nick. Do you have any idea how hard this is for me? I'm humiliated."
Nick snorted. "More or less humiliated than finding out that the best way you have to save your relationship is to have a sex change."
She glared at him. "This isn't a joke. I'm not a joke."
"No, you're a liar."
"I never lied to you. I wanted to be with you. I still do. Those pictures don't change that."
"But they do, Vivienne. I can't pretend like I didn't see them. Or that I didn't see how much more passionate you were in those grainy, fucking Bigfoot-quality pictures than you've ever been with me."
"And that's my fault?" Vivienne's snide tone barely concealed her defensiveness.
"Well, it isn't mine, sweetheart. So, why don't you just tell the truth. How many times have you 'experimented' as you call it?"
Vivienne flushed and pursed her lips. "Lots of women have liaisons with other women in college and what not. It's not a big deal."
"So, those pictures are from college?"
"No."
"When were they taken?"
Vivienne paused. "December. A few days before we went to Paris."
"A few days before I proposed to you?"
"Yes, but I haven't been with a woman since. I swear."
"But you were with women before we got engaged."
"I don't ask you about your past lovers, and I don't see how rehashing mine does any good."
Her evasions galled him. Somehow, she convinced herself that her sexual orientation didn't matter. To Vivienne, being gay was a side note to their potential marriage. Nick could only shake his head.
"You're telling me that you aren't gay."
"Why do you have to label everything? Isn't it enough that I'm committed to you?
"No," he barked. "It isn't. I want a real marriage with a woman who wants me. I deserve that, and frankly, so do you."
"We make an amazing team, Nick. I can help you make partner. Don't you want that?"
"What are you talking about? Forget everything else, Viv. Perception. Ambition. Even this blackmailer. In your heart of hearts, who are you?"
"You're reducing all of who I am to sex."
"No. I'm asking you, for the love of God, to be honest with me."
Her shoulders slumped, and tears sprang back into her eyes. "I don't say it out loud."
"Why not?"
"Because that can't be my life. My life is with you."
The sadness of Vivienne's proclamation made Nick's stomach clench.
Visions of the life he'd thought they'd have together went up in smoke—the home, the house full of kids, and Vivienne as the perfect companion.
He'd figured it was the time to settle down and, once and for all, find the one right woman for his life—not just for the night. All signs pointed to Vivienne. With her, his life had started falling into place. Was he that foolish? Or was she that great at pretending? Probably both, but it couldn't continue.
"No. Your life is not with me. I can't marry you. You know that. You knew it when you decided to ask for my help. That's why you waited so long. I'll help you with this…this person who's after you, but I'm not going to marry you. We have to call off the wedding. We need to put a stop to this right now. I'm sitting around in limbo with people who don't know we were having trouble asking me if we've set a date. My mom keeps giving me pitying looks. Hell, I've got your father pestering me to make sure I get you down the aisle."
Nick rambled on, not realizing Vivienne had stayed silent until he caught her watching him with a look of determination that confused him.
"What?" he prompted.
"Do we have to?"
"Have to what?"
"Call off the wedding."
"Are you out of your mind? Of course, we do. I can't marry you."
Vivienne's lip trembled, but she pressed on.
"Why not?"
"Because you're a lesbian! And I have a penis! Or didn't you notice?"
"It doesn't change how good we are together. You said it yourself a million times. We fit."
"That was before I knew you were gay. I was wrong. Clearly."
"Were you? What makes us work is that we want the same things."
Nick smirked. "No. Ironically, that's
what makes us not work."
"Stop and think for a second, Nick. The life that we wanted, we can still have. I can still be a great wife to you. We get along. We make each other laugh. We're friends. Our sex life isn't great, but we already knew that. We still make a good team."
"Being buddies is not a reason to get married."
"No, but over the long haul, working toward the same goals is. You may not believe it, but I do love you, Nick." Vivienne touched his arm, and Nick yanked it back.
"That's not the kind of love I want. We'll never be happy if what you want is another woman. And, I want someone who wants me. I can't live my life without feeling that."
Nick thought about the compromises he'd been willing to make. Suddenly, it all seemed questionable even without considering Vivienne's sexuality. How had he gotten to the point where he was so blindly focused on his career and his social standing that he'd accepted having a marriage without passion?
"Some couples have arrangements," she said. "They make allowances for each other."
"You sleep with other women. I sleep with other women. That's what you call a marriage?"
"There are all kinds of marriages, Nick." Vivienne sniffled, peering down her pert, aristocratic nose.
"I don't want an unconventional marriage with built-in infidelity. That doesn't make me some unsophisticated simpleton."
"Is it so unconventional? I'm not naive. You think my father is a paragon of sexual virtue? My mother lets him live his life, and they stay together in a solid marriage where they take care of each other and partner together."
"No offense, Vivienne, but I've never aspired to have your parents' marriage. I didn't think you did either."
"I don't. Ours wouldn't be. We care about each other. Our feelings are rooted in friendship."
Nick faced Vivienne squarely, placing his hands on either side of her face.
"No. Vivienne, that's crazy. Is this about your parents?"
Vivienne grabbed his hands and clasped them in hers under her chin. "I've been thinking about this and thinking about this. I'm telling you because I'm hoping you can help me handle these threats and make sure that no one else ever finds out." Vivienne looked a bit panicked again. "I can still help you get what you want. With my dad's business, you'll have no problem making partner. You'll be family. I can still give you exactly what you want."
