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CHAPTER 46

Auteur: Angel
last update Dernière mise à jour: 2025-10-02 18:37:19

Vivian

The apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of my laptop. My living room table was scattered with papers—printouts of font styles, doodled sketches of possible brand marks, and a half-drained mug of coffee that had long gone cold.

If the dresses were the heart of my debut, then this logo… it was the face. The first thing the world would see. And right now, that “face” looked like a hundred messy scribbles competing for attention.

I leaned back, pinching the bridge of my nose.

What did I even want this brand to say?

That I was bold? Feminine? Timeless? Modern?

All of them, maybe. None of them, definitely.

My eyes landed on one design I’d sketched weeks ago—a minimal emblem that curved like a ribbon around the letters of my name. Too delicate? Another showed sharp edges framing initials, almost militant. Too harsh.

A sigh escaped me. “Vivian, you’re going to drive yourself insane.”

The cursor blinked on my screen, mocking me with its patience.

Somewhere in the kitchen, the
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  • FALLING FOR THE COLD BILLIONAIRE NEXT DOOR   CHAPTER 57

    VivianDinner had gone far better than I’d expected.Maybe it was the soft lighting, or the teasing that never seemed to stop—Yvonne and Fallon bickering like teenagers, Aurora making jokes at Vincent’s expense every chance she got.Or maybe it was him.Vincent had been relaxed tonight, laughing more than I’d ever seen him. It was rare—seeing him without that edge of restraint he usually carried. For a moment, it almost felt like we’d known each other for years, not months.When the last of the plates were cleared and Yvonne made a joke about stealing the restaurant’s chef, we all stood to leave. Vincent walked beside me, his jacket slung casually over his arm. His hand brushed mine once—by accident, I told myself—and a strange warmth lingered.The night air was cool when we stepped outside, the street glowing with the faint hum of city lights. We were only a few steps from the parking lot when a voice I hadn’t heard in weeks cut sharply through the calm.“Well, if it isn’t the perfec

  • FALLING FOR THE COLD BILLIONAIRE NEXT DOOR   CHAPTER 56

    VivianI stood in front of my mirror, surrounded by what could only be described as a fabric crime scene. Dresses, blouses, and half-zipped heels littered the floor. Every time I thought I’d picked something, I changed my mind two seconds later.It wasn’t even a date.It was dinner. Simple. Friendly. Non-threatening.Right?Then why did my heart keep acting like it was about to run a marathon?I picked up a deep emerald dress, held it to my body, frowned, and tossed it on the bed. Too formal. Then I grabbed a cream top and jeans. Too casual. Then a fitted black dress. Too obvious.I groaned, dragging a hand through my hair. “You’re being ridiculous,” I muttered to my reflection.But the thing was—I wanted to look nice. Not glamorous, not over the top. Just… nice.The kind of nice that made Vincent pause for a second when he saw me.Ugh.My phone buzzed on the vanity, saving me from my spiraling thoughts.Vincent: “Running a bit late. The meeting dragged on longer than expected.”Vince

  • FALLING FOR THE COLD BILLIONAIRE NEXT DOOR   CHAPTER 55

    VivianIt had only been a few days since the studio painting, but something about it still clung to me—like the faint smell of paint that refused to leave my clothes.Or maybe it wasn’t the paint. Perhaps it was him.Vincent Evans.The same man who once looked allergic to emotions now texted me daily, sometimes just to argue about paint shades or ask if I’d eaten breakfast. It was weird. And kind of… nice.He’d sent me a message earlier that morning:Vincent: “Is this color too dull or does my phone camera hate me?”Attached was a picture of a paint swatch that looked exactly like every other shade he’d shown me.Apparently, our little but not-so-little painting session has inspired him to change his studio’s wall color.I typed back:Me: “It’s beige. They all look like sadness.”Vincent: “You have no taste.”Me: “You have no range.”Vincent: “Remind me again why I let you help me design anything?”Me: “Because I’m right 90% of the time.”There was a long pause before he replied:Vinc

  • FALLING FOR THE COLD BILLIONAIRE NEXT DOOR   CHAPTER 54

    VincentBy the time we finished the last wall, it was nearly midnight.Vivian leaned against the ladder, her hair in a messy bun, faint streaks of pale blue paint on her forearm. The studio smelled faintly of fresh color and victory.She looked exhausted—but satisfied.“Done,” she breathed out, stretching her arms. “Finally.”I checked my watch. “Eleven fifty-two.”Her eyes widened. “No way. We’ve been painting for fifteen hours?”“Thirteen and a half,” I corrected, peeling off the last strip of masking tape. “You took a snack break. Splashing me with paint. And stuffing your face with bacon and cheese sandwiches”“That was one sandwich,” she protested, laughing tiredly. “And you stole half.”I smiled faintly. “Evidence?”“Crumbs on your sleeve,” she shot back, pointing.She was right.For a moment, we both just stood there, staring at the finished space. Her studio. The place that would soon carry her name.“You did great,” I said finally.She turned to me, her smile small but warm.

  • FALLING FOR THE COLD BILLIONAIRE NEXT DOOR   CHAPTER 53

    VivianThe bouquet had sat on my nightstand all week.Not because I was sentimental—at least, that’s what I kept telling myself—but because every time I walked past it, I remembered the look on Vincent’s face when he handed them over. Nervous, almost boyish, like he wasn’t sure if he’d done something completely ridiculous.Freesias. Pale and soft, carrying a meaning I hadn’t needed a florist to explain. New beginnings. Friendship. Trust.Lilies. White and elegant, with a subtle fragrance that never failed to catch me off guard when I entered my room.I had smiled when I first unwrapped them, alone in my room. Not because of the flowers themselves, but because he’d thought of it. Vincent Evans, of all people, standing in a flower shop and choosing something for me. The image was so absurd that it made me laugh. But it also made something warm curl quietly in my chest.And then came the texts.It started simple.Vincent: Did you get brushes?Me: Yes.Vincent: Rollers?Me: …yes.Vincent:

  • FALLING FOR THE COLD BILLIONAIRE NEXT DOOR   CHAPTER 52

    VincentHe blinked. “…Sorry. Where?”“Flower shop.”There was a beat of silence. Then his mouth curved. “You? Buying flowers? Should I alert the press?”I shot him a glare. “Drive.”“Fine, fine.” He held up both hands, grinning like a fool as we slid into the car. “But this I gotta see. What are we talking about? Roses? Daisies? Maybe something exotic, since you’ve got the budget for it—”“Damon.” My voice was a warning.He snorted. “Alright. I’ll keep quiet. Just… wow. Flowers. This is history.”The ride felt longer than usual. My palms rested against my knees, restless. I had faced boardrooms filled with sharks without blinking. But this? The thought of choosing a bouquet made my throat tighten.When the car pulled up to a corner shop with a green awning and glass windows filled with color, Damon leaned back. “Want me to come in and help translate? You know, make sure you don’t end up walking out with funeral flowers or something?”“No.” I adjusted my coat. “Stay in the car.”His gr

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