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16.2 Vivienne
The tension that lingered from the previous night seemed to dissipate further as they shared a light-hearted moment, connected by the discovery of unexpected common ground. Vivienne continued flipping through the pages of the tattered romance novel, her eyebrows raised in mock skepticism. "You know, if I were the main character of this story, I would have made a run for it the first night. Kidnapped or not."
Marcus chuckled, leaning against the bookshelf. "Oh, trust me, the love interest would have easily caught you, bunny. He’s a shifter too. We’re much faster than humans."
“Is that so?” She shot him a haughty glare. "Well, I'd like to think I have a few tricks up my sleeve. Like poison."
The look Marcus levelled her with was equal parts amused and disbelieving. "You think an adult shifter wouldn’t be able to smell their food being poisoned?”
“Who said anything about food?” Vivienne replied coyly, covering the bottom half of her face with the book an
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The grand ballroom of the Red Moon Hotel unfurled before Marcus and Vivienne like a magnetic dream. The air was infused with the heady aroma of flowers, and the soft strains of music enveloped them as they stepped into the heart of the masquerade. The room glittered with the glow of chandeliers, the marble floors catching the streams of light and tossing them back into the air like teardrops. Couples in elaborate masks twirled on the dance floor, creating a scene straight out of a fairytale. Marcus, dressed in his impeccable black suit, kept a protective arm around Vivienne as they entered the enchanting space. Her scarlet gown swirled with each step, and the mask she wore added an air of mystery to her allure. As they surveyed the festivities, Vivienne felt the fingers around her waist tighten with an almost palpable sense of possessiveness, and she bit back a smile. There was her protector, determined to keep her safe in this sea of unknown faces. However, their idyllic entrance w
My Alpha, My Bodyguard 18.2 Vivienne
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The barista, a freckle-faced teenager with curly brown hair and olive skin, fumbled to raise his head from the mobile badly hidden behind the register when Vivienne made it to the front. Painting on a patented magazine smile, she greeted him politely, “Hi, could I get a black coffee for here? Medium, please.”“Um…” Dark blue eyes went wide behind the round frames of his glasses. The phone slipped out of his hands and clattered very loudly on the ground.Experience allowed her to maintain her grace, though his behaviour confused her. It would be easy to call him starstruck, but Vivienne wasn’t a star. Depeche Mode had been the highest point of her career in terms of attention, but it had been a relatively small role in mid-tier Netflix series. No one stopped her in the street to ask for autographs, and baristas definitely didn’t get tongue-tied in front of her. This kid had definitely recognized her, but probably not for the reason other people normally would.Just as she was about to
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