Old Money

The town car slid through the streets of the city, sleek and silent.

Vivienne sat between Wes and Celeste, Celeste periodically tugging at the fabric of Vivi’s dress with an exaggerated pout.

“Ugh, why does Vivienne’s dress look nicer than mine?” Celeste whined, her manicured nails grazing the satin at Vivi’s waist. “Wes, you should have bought me something better.”

Wes barely acknowledged her, scrolling through his phone with the detached expression of someone who considered listening optional.

Vivienne stared out the window, ignoring them both. Her mind was already fixed on the end of the night, on the moment when she could slip away and return to the guest house without incident. That was the goal: to get through the evening as smoothly and quietly as possible.

Her reflection stared back at her in the glass, the dim city lights catching the soft shine of her strawberry blonde curls. The stylists had done an annoyingly good job. Her hair fell in soft waves down to her elbows, her makeup expertly highlighting her high cheekbones and the blue-green shade of her eyes.

The midnight blue satin dress hugged her waist perfectly, tastefully cut yet effortlessly feminine. It was a shame, really, that only Wes and the people he wanted to impress would see it.

But Vivienne dismissed the thought.

The car passed through a set of heavy iron gates and began rolling up the long, winding driveway of a sprawling mansion on the outskirts of the city. The perfectly manicured grounds and tennis courts they passed told Vivienne everything she needed to know about the tone of tonight’s event.

This wasn’t new money. This was old money. The kind of wealth that didn’t need to flaunt itself because it had been there for generations.

The driveway was lined with a long queue of luxury cars, waiting to deposit their glamorous passengers at the foot of a grand staircase that climbed toward the massive front doors.

As soon as they arrived, Vivienne began her usual game—carefully extracting her arms from both Wes and Celeste without drawing attention to the fact that she wanted to be as far from them as possible.

Neither of them noticed.

Inside, the reason for her attendance became immediately clear.

Julian Aldridge and Vincent Carter stood waiting in the entrance hall, both holding tumblers of dark liquor.

“Vivi! Weston!” Julian called out, waving them over.

Vivienne kissed her father’s cheek and gave Vince a polite peck as well. Both men shook Wes’s hand and gave Celeste an obligatory nod of acknowledgment.

Vincent’s sharp gaze flicked to Vivienne as they walked toward the main hall. His arm curled through hers with casual familiarity.

“Vivienne,” he said. “How are you?”

“She’s fine,” Wes answered, his tone dismissive.

Vivienne’s smile didn’t falter. “Yes, of course. How are you?”

Vincent’s gray brows lifted. “Is my son treating you well?”

Vivienne’s smile stayed fixed. “Of course.”

Her father joined her other side, casting her a quick, concerned glance. She had always liked Wes’s family—possibly more than Wes himself. They felt like an extension of her own, which was why she had never told them how miserable she was. If they knew the truth, they would have dropped the entire merger without hesitation, and that was exactly why Vivienne stayed quiet.

The four of them passed through various rooms until they reached an expansive garden at the back of the estate. White string lights draped the hedges and gazebos, casting a soft, romantic glow over the scene.

Elegant round tables, covered in white linens and fresh wisteria, were scattered across the lawn. Guests in designer gowns and tailored suits floated through the garden, glasses of champagne in hand. A small string quartet played beneath an ivy-covered archway.

Vivienne’s father leaned in.

“Where are we, by the way?” she whispered. “I forgot, and I didn’t want to ask Wes.”

“This is the Wilder estate,” Julian murmured. “Old money. Big real estate family.”

Vivienne’s stomach tightened.

“Don’t let it intimidate you,” Vince added. “We’re doing well enough—especially once the companies are officially merged.”

Vivienne’s father and Vince clinked their glasses in front of her, their smiles wide and expectant.

“We’ll leave you lovebirds to each other,” Vince teased before turning toward the bar.

“Call your mother,” Julian called over his shoulder as they disappeared into the crowd.

Vivienne’s shoulders sagged the moment they left.

***

After nearly an hour of mindless socializing, Vivienne leaned against a thick hedge near the edge of the party, her champagne untouched.

Celeste was whining about her shoes.

Wes stood beside her, irritated, his gaze darting around the crowd. “Where the hell is Zayne?” he muttered.

Zayne Wilder. Their host. Wes had spent the last month trying to get close to him, hoping for an introduction to his inner circle, the kind of connections that could unlock Wes’s dream career overnight.

Vivienne barely heard them anymore. Her dress was starting to feel too tight, her hair too carefully arranged. Wes could easily continue schmoozing with his secretary. She was just about to excuse herself when—

“Wes! Wes! Oh my god, look!”

Celeste’s shrill voice cut through the hum of conversation. She grabbed Wes’s arm, digging her nails into his sleeve.

Wes’s jaw tightened. “What?”

Celeste’s eyes widened. “He’s here!”

Vivienne’s heart stopped.

“Who?” Wes snapped.

“Knox Maddox!” Celeste hissed. “Over there!”

Vivi’s gaze followed Celeste’s outstretched hand.

And there he was.

Knox Maddox stood near the edge of the garden, surrounded by a small group of elegant women hanging off his every word. His black suit fit his tall frame perfectly, sharp enough to cut glass. Strands of his dark hair fell messily across his forehead, as if he’d just run his hands through it.

Even from across the garden, Vivi could see the glint in his dark eyes, the same one she’d seen the day he had shielded her from that wave of dirty rainwater.

Wes inhaled sharply, his eyes darkening with the sharp edge of jealousy.

Vivi froze.

She hadn’t seen Knox since that day at the coffee shop. Since he’d called her Angel.

And now here he was, just a few feet away.

Wes’s mouth twisted into a slow, calculating smile.

“Well,” he said darkly, handing his empty champagne flute to a passing waiter. “It looks like tonight just got a lot more interesting.”

Vivi’s pulse thundered beneath her skin.

Dark eyes flicked toward her.