Chapter 9
Emery's POV
He stroked his hair back, setting his glass on the table with a loud clunk. "Vivienne, maybe. Or another one who was digging around in me and got you instead. I am not the only one who has people who want to kill me."
I stepped forward, my heart pounding. "My father showed up. Told you that your dad had tried to kill him. Told you that you're just like him."
Roman's jaw clenched. "Your father was a clever man with a loose lip. My father. was a vulture in a Versace jacket. And no, Emery. I am not him."
"Then prove it."
He stood facing me now. In his eyes, I saw something that I hadn't been seeking. Shame. Fear. Possibly even vulnerability.
"I've lied to you," he admitted. "Not about the leak. But about. the past. My brother. My company. Things I was trying to keep from hurting you."
"Hurt me?" I laughed. "Or keep control?"
"Maybe both," he said to me honestly.
I didn't know what to say to that. The air between us hung heavy with what wasn't spoken. The truth was too late, the trust frayed.
"What are you hiding, Roman?" I whispered.
No answer.
I walked away that night. From my apartment, from self-doubt and uncertainty. I did not want to cry, but the tears came anyway. Not for the lies. Not even for the betrayal. But for the connection we were destroying with every half-truth and every silence.
The next day, my eyes were still glued to my ceiling when my phone rang with a number I wasn't familiar with.
"Emery Blake speaking."
"Well, you're tougher than I expected."
The voice was smooth, honey laced with poison. I knew it the moment I heard it.
"Vivienne."
She laughed. "Oh, did he bring me up? How sweet of him."
"What do you want?"
"To help you. You and I have more in common than you know. We both were drawn to the same man, shared the same stories, and left with scars."
"I don't wish to hear about your drama."
"But you might wish to hear about his secret. The one he dug so deep, even Nathan barely knows the whole of it."
I remained silent. That was all she needed.
"I'll give you what you want, Emery freedom. Freedom from the lies, the cameras, the fabricated interest. I'll tell you Roman's greatest secret. All I want... is for you to leave."
My grip on the phone was so strong it ached. "Why?"
"Because I was stupid enough to stay," she said softly. "And I won't let him shatter another woman who believed she could save him."
She hung up before I could respond.
I sat there for what seemed like hours, phone on my lap, the weight of her words crushing me like winter.
Roman's deepest secret. My dad's warning. The leak. The lies. The kiss.
All mixed together in a messy pile of half-truths and sharp edges.
I had to choose.
Trust the man who'd stolen my rules and redrawn my world or the woman who'd survived the wreckage.
What if they were both lying?
And what if the truth would destroy everything?
.
The wind cut more sharp than I was accustomed to when I stepped out of the vehicle. Manhattan appeared capable of getting colder when your own chest was already hollow. I cinched my coat around myself, grasping the collar like it could somehow shield me from what I was about to do. Vivienne had asked for a private meeting. No lawyers. No Roman. Just her and me.
I didn't believe her for a single second but curiosity and this persistent ache in the bottom of my stomach forced me here. If Roman was hiding something, I had to witness it for myself.
The coffee was hip, tucked away in a silent corner of SoHo. Candles flickered on every table, and the scent of roasted espresso and orange peel filled the room. Vivienne sat when I got there, stylishly relaxed in a camel coat, her lipstick as sharp as her smile.
"You're here," she said, sipping her drink without inviting me to sit.".
"I don't have all day," I said, sitting down across from her. My voice came out more commanding than I had expected.
She looked at me as if I were a problem solved. "No. But you just have time enough to hear the truth."
I kept quiet.
She shoved a file folder along the table. My fingers trembled as I opened it. It contained photocopies of legal documents some of which were a few years back, others a bit newer. But the one that was on top took my breath away.
A clause. Buried in an inheritance agreement, dated shortly after Roman's father's death. It was clean, airtight, and horrifyingly simple: Roman Hart would only retain control of his father's empire if he married and remained married for no less than one year.
"That's the real reason you're here," Vivienne said softly. "You're not just his designer or some charity case. You're leverage. A loophole in a very expensive contract."
I stared at the papers, my heart pounding.
"He didn't tell me any of this," I breathed. "Not a word."
"No. Because then you'd walk." Vivienne shook her head. "But now that you've done your part in public, now that the world thinks you're his faithful fiancée, you're worth something. A great deal, in fact."
I wanted to deny believing. To attribute deceit, plotting to her. But in my mind, the pieces fit together too well. His new fascination, the timing, the enigma. The why he had to make this fake engagement so authentic.
"You know what hurts the worst?" I said, staring at the table.
"I let myself believe it could be real."
Vivienne inched a bit closer, her expression inscrutable.
"Don't let it kill you. Roman plays chess and the rest of us play checkers. But even kings get taken down, Emery."