CHAPTER 78: JUST FOR TONIGHT

Vivienne strolled through the corridors of André’s chambers, her heels clacking on the polished floor with every irritated step. The sound echoed like tiny hammers of frustration. She wasn’t walking—she was stomping. Her hair, which had once been carefully pinned, had fallen loose from running around, tumbling over her shoulders in wild waves that made her look like some beautiful, furious madwoman. Not that she cared. Actually, she did care. But not right now. Right now, she was too angry.

"Where’s that goddamn idiot bastard?" she muttered under her breath, voice sharp like a whip. Her lips curled as she scanned the hall, eyes darting into corners as if the man could be hiding behind a curtain or crouching under a chair like a dramatic little rat.

She had searched his room—every corner, every nook. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t in the damned bath either, which would have been a good place for him to drown. She let out a sigh so heavy it could have cracked the ceiling.

"Maybe I should’ve just stayed in my room," she hissed to herself, pacing like a woman possessed. "It’s not like I care if that idiot drowned himself in a bath of milk or strangled himself with silk ribbons. He could choke on perfume for all I care."

She kicked the wall lightly with her heel. The sound echoed.

"All I want is the vault," she said, her voice rising, as though the stone walls themselves should understand her suffering. "That fucking vault. That’s it. I need him, because I don’t have the faintest clue where it is. That is the only reason I’m still here. Otherwise I’d be out of this cursed madhouse before sunrise."

Her words hung bitter in the air. She dragged her hand through her hair in pure irritation, then straightened her gown like she was fixing armor before battle.

She stalked past the lounge at the end of his chambers, but then her steps faltered. Something made her double back, like an animal sensing a predator. The door was open.

And there he was.

André.

He sat on the chaise, back against the velvet, posture calm and unnervingly perfect. His face was carved into something unreadable, a blank canvas that gave nothing away.

Vivienne stared at him. Her lips twitched, and then she scoffed.

"What a dramatic pampered prick," she whispered under her breath.

She walked in, quieter than usual. Almost careful. Which was odd for her. She dropped down beside him on the chaise, her skirts spilling around her legs. He didn’t move. Didn’t even look at her.

Not his usual clinginess. Not his usual sweetness. Not his ridiculous way of acting like she was some goddess who had descended into his lap.

For once—silence.

Vivienne let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

"Finally," she thought, leaning back, "a break from his lovesick fool routine."

But then her eyes narrowed.

"What’s his fucking problem now? Why so dramatic? Sitting here like a statue, as if the world is ending? Idiot. Complete idiot. At least he isn’t throwing himself at me like some courtly buffoon. But still. Something’s wrong. And of course, it has to be wrong when I’m in the room."

She turned her head toward him, tilting her chin in fake sweetness.

"Are you okay, my lord?" she asked, voice smooth as poisoned honey.

No answer.

She blinked.

"Are you perhaps sick?" she tried again, sing-song like a mocking nurse. "Is everything alright?"

Still no answer. Not even a twitch of acknowledgment. He just stared at the far wall as though she didn’t exist.

Vivienne froze.

"What the fuck," she thought, her inner voice sharp as broken glass. "Is he ignoring me? Is this lunatic ignoring me? How dare he. How absolutely rude. Is he going through puberty or something? Sulking like a boy who lost his toy sword? Unbelievable. He’s insane. Absolutely insane. Not that I care. I don’t care. I don’t care at all. If he wants to cry a river, let him drown in it. He can build a little paper boat and sail himself straight to hell."

Her jaw clenched. She rose to her feet with fury burning in her chest.

She leaned closer, whispered between clenched teeth, "Goddamn bastard."

She turned sharply on her heel, ready to storm out and slam the door so hard it rattled the ceiling. But then she felt it.

A hand.

Soft. Gentle. Wrapping around her wrist with just enough pressure to make her freeze.

Her heart jolted in her chest like a frightened rabbit.

She wanted to scream at her own body. "Stop it, stop it, stop trembling like some stupid maiden. What the hell is this? Why is my heart beating like I’m under attack? This is ridiculous. This is humiliating. I don’t tremble. I stab. I bite. I laugh at fear. So what the hell is wrong with me?"

She turned back sharply.

André was standing now. His eyes fixed on hers, but his face... softer, almost fragile, as though a storm was behind his skin.

His lips parted, voice low and heavy.

"Just help me forget," he whispered. "Just for tonight."

Before Vivienne could even blink, he closed the distance between them.

And then—his mouth was on hers.

He didn’t just kiss her. He claimed her lips like a man who wanted to devour them. He kissed her as if he were drowning and her mouth was the only air in the world.

Vivienne’s brain short-circuited.

Everything inside her fried at once. Her thoughts snapped into white noise. Blank. Gone.

Her lips trembled against his, and for one wild, uncontrollable second, she kissed him back.

André pulled her closer, one arm locking around her waist so tight she gasped. His grip wasn’t gentle. It was desperate. His hand pressed into her spine as if he wanted to pull her through his skin, fuse her into him.

His kiss was feverish. Hungry. Almost violent in the way he refused to let her go.

Vivienne’s mind screamed.

"What the hell is happening? What the fuck is this? My lips are betraying me. My body is betraying me. Why am I kissing him back? Stop it, stop it, stop it! I’m supposed to hate him! I want him dead! Dead, dead, dead! And yet here I am—melting into his mouth like some pathetic lovesick fool."

André kissed her harder. His lips pressed deeper, his breath mingling with hers, his body shaking like a man who wanted to erase every single memory inside his head.

He kissed her like he was trying to forget his whole life.

And she let him.

Her hands, against her will, curled into his shirt, dragging him closer.

The room spun around them, the air thick with silence, only broken by the sound of their desperate breathing tangled between their mouths.

And in the middle of that storm, Vivienne thought one last wild thought—

"I’m doomed. Absolutely doomed. This is chaos. This is insanity. And somehow... I can’t stop."