Dangerous Attractions

Vivienne

Vivienne watches Gabriel from a distance.

She can't believe that she was once in love with this man. Everything about him enchanted her, from his honey blonde hair to his piercing green eyes, back when she was sixteen. Now, five years have passed, and boy, how she wishes to go back in time and slap herself in the face.

Nothing about this man is—

No, who's she kidding? She's still in love with him. Her shoulders sag and she picks up her glass of champagne. She concentrates on gulping it down without choking because if she doesn't, she'll break down in front of these five hundred people. She actually means five hundred vultures, but whatever. It's practically the same thing, right?

This is her second glass and she's beginning to feel tipsy, although she's trying really hard not to show it. She can't have a moment to herself; if it isn't a photographer snapping a random picture of her, it's someone with a bright smile congratulating her on becoming Mrs. Emerson. The thought of being an Emerson delighted her back then. She'd write Vivienne Emerson in hearts in her diary and have dreams about this day. How she'd walk down the aisle, how Gabriel would tear up at the sight of her, how she'd smile from ear to ear and feel like the happiest woman alive.

Today was nothing like that. In fact, it was the complete opposite.

"Vivi," Loretta says as she approaches her. "Put that glass down or you're going to be tumbling out of this place."

Vivienne ignores her and takes another sip. She's only going to stop when the alcohol anesthetizes her. She's in far too much pain and she can't take it anymore. She's endured a lot today and she wants to forget. She's never found comfort at the bottom of a glass, but there's a first time for everything.

"Vivienne," Loretta warns.

"Just leave me alone, Etta," she finally says. She's surprised that her words aren't slurred.

"I'm just looking out for you. Getting wasted isn't going to solve anything. What you should be doing is thinking about the perfect time to announce the divorce."

She places the glass back on the table. "I can't do that, you know I can't. Why do you keep bringing this up?"

"You're twenty-two," she reminds her. "You're an adult. You can't let dad keep telling you what to do. When are you going to stand up for yourself? Look at where your fear of him has gotten you." She gestures around the venue, at the perfect wedding reception.

"It's a little too late for that, don't you think?" She already married the guy, so what's the worst that could happen? But is she really going to be a hypocrite and lie to herself? She didn't just marry Gabriel because her father insisted; she married him because she was desperately in love with him even now, after he changed drastically. He was a different person when he returned from Florida and she was well aware of that. Still, she agreed to marry him because it would be beneficial to her family, and his. The Emerson-Hill families are finally united. Who will stop them now? No one stands a chance against them. That was the plan, it was always the plan.

She married Gabriel Emerson because, deep down, she hoped that things between them would go back to normal. Back to what it was.

Now, about her father.

What can she say? Dave Hill is a rich and powerful man. He worked hard to get to where he is, and as he usually says, he stepped on a lot of bodies to climb up the ladder of success. He made a lot of sacrifices. To the world, he was Dave Hill, the successful businessman who appeared on covers of magazines with his lovely wife, Isabelle Hill, her mother. To them, he was Dave Hill, the narcissistic underworld criminal who only ever thought about himself.

They called him the King of the New York City underworld. Not a lot of people knew that about him. He was respected in society, but their opinions would change if they knew what the true source of his fortune was. He did just about everything in the book and a little more. He wasn't picky, all he cared about was money. He didn't mind killing people, drugging people, or cheating people to get what he wanted. The secret to success, he always said, was being cold-blooded.

He'd known James Emerson, Gabriel's father, for years. James had always been rich; he inherited all his 'businesses' from his father, he was old money. He had a lot of connections, and that's what Dave needed. But James was in it for something too. He wanted what Dave had: a connection to the smaller 'establishments' around the city. Dave Hill didn't discriminate, he negotiated with all sorts of people regardless of their backgrounds. He only cared about making money. Dave would help him there. It was all settled, and she was made aware of it, but back then the idea of getting married to Gabriel was a dream to her. She wasn't forced into anything. She said yes because she loved Gabriel more than she loved herself.

Loretta's shaking her head. "You're just going to sit here all night? Do you realize how bad this looks?"

Vivienne frowns. "Are you on my side or not?"

"I am," she insists. "But I don't want dad to be the one to tell you this. You can frown later, when there's no one watching."

She takes another sip. Etta's right, but she couldn't care less. She's in a lot of pain at the moment, the kind that can't be appeased with anything. He hasn't looked at her since they got here. No, since he slipped that ring on her finger. She felt a little hopeful when he kissed her at the altar. His lips were as soft as she remembered, and her heart cried out. She thought that maybe something had changed, that things would be different. But he turned away from her as they walked down the aisle and he hasn't looked at her since.

Her mother is approaching them. She suppresses a sigh. She didn't need this today. Can't they leave her alone?

She forces a smile and says, "You can't sit here all night."

"That's what I've been telling her."

"You're bringing a lot of attention to yourself. Your aunt Pamela's commenting, and you know how she is."

Pamela Hill, her father's sister. She never married and doesn't have any children. She's four years her father's senior, yet she acts like she's in her early twenties. Vivienne never liked her. She's always sided with their father, but only because he was the one paying for all her cosmetic procedures. She blamed her mother whenever he got aggressive. Nothing was ever his fault, not in her book.

She rolls her eyes and stands. She feels eyes on her and it makes her uncomfortable. Everyone's watching her, and this is exactly what she wanted to avoid. Now that she's on her feet, where does she go? She's supposed to be by Gabriel's side, but she knows that isn't a possibility. People will talk regardless of what she does. It's Gabriel who started this, not her. She can't force a situation.

Maybe Loretta's right. Maybe she should be thinking about getting a divorce even though her father will most probably kill her if she gets one now, before he benefits from her union with Gabriel.

She follows her mother and sister around as they mingle with a few guests. There's a permanent smile on her lips and her cheeks are staring to hurt. No one here cares about her happiness and she knows it. If it were up to her, she'd never invite them to her wedding. This is just an excuse for them to dress up and have fine wine all night. Some of these people who are practically family don't even remember her name.

Vivienne is overwhelmed. She can't stay in this room a second longer. She's running out of air and if she doesn't get away, she's sure that she'll faint. She excuses herself and makes her way across the room. She makes sure to not make any eye contact with anyone as she makes her way to the restroom. It's the one place she knows she'll have a moment of peace.

It's empty, thankfully, and smells of lavender. Calming. She pushes one of the doors open, locks it behind her, then sits on top of the toilet lid. She'll just sit here for a little while. They won't notice her absence immediately, so she still has some time to herself. She's concentrating on breathing when the door opens, and by the sound of it, two women walk in.

She recognizes one voice. It's her cousin, Delphine. She'd almost forgotten that she was here.

"This is the saddest wedding I've ever been to," Delphine comments. "Did you see the look on poor Vivi's face?"

The person with her sighs. "It's clear that she isn't happy that she's getting married to Gabriel. I mean, who would? He's hot and all, but he sure has a reputation."

"He wasn't like this before he left," Delphine says. "He was a sweet boy. Remember when he still wore glasses?"

She scoffs. "That was a long time ago. You haven't heard about what he's been up to in Florida?"

Vivienne's curious now. She hasn't heard, actually, and she wonders who this woman is. She seems to know so much about Gabriel. Her cousin says, "No, I haven't. Is it that bad?"

"It's awful. Come on, I'll tell you all about it outside." Vivienne grinds her teeth in frustration. She wanted to know, even if whatever she heard would kill her on the inside. He changed, that's a fact, but what happened exactly? This is exactly what she'd been trying to avoid. The comments. The opinions.

She doesn't want to leave this restroom. If she could, she'd stay here. But she doesn't want to risk being caught by Etta or even her mother, so it'd be best if she joined the party. She washes her hands and pushes the door to the restroom open, only to bump straight into Gabriel.

Her heart, her traitorous heart, beats faster at the mere sight of him. She tries to slow her breathing. She doesn't want him to see how nervous she is. There's a long moment of silence. None of them say a word. In another world, she'd confront him about his frigidity. She'd ask him where his love went, why he treated her like he didn't know her. She'd ask him why he agreed to their marriage when he clearly no longer wanted her.

"I'm sorry," he says. It's all he says.

A small smile thins her lips as she looks down. She has a lot to say, but she isn't a hundred percent sober and she doesn't want to make this more awkward than it should be. He walks past her and enters the men's restroom. She feels like crying. She didn't need this. If anything, his apology made this evening worse. What is he sorry for exactly?

She returns to the wedding reception her mother spent months organizing. They had a wedding planner and everything. She didn't have a single say in the decor, nor did she care to. Besides, no one asked. Her mother chose the theme (gold, gold, gold), the menu, the guest list. She even chose her wedding dress. Vivienne wore whatever was presented to her and her mother clapped and declared that this dress she has on would be the one. It made her look like a queen, she said. She'd be the most beautiful bride in all of New York, she said.

The past months went by in a blur. She was hoping for a divine intervention. She had changed her mind about marrying him a long time ago, when he first returned from Florida. Only nothing happened, and she's here now.

Loretta is by her side as soon as she sees her. "Mom has been asking for you. It's time for the dance."

Vivienne laughs. "Dance? Don't be ridiculous."

"It's a part the program," she says with an exasperated sigh. "God, I don't know why they're putting you through this."

Vivienne doesn't answer her. There's nothing she could say at a time like this. Her parents are talking to Gabriel's parents, and they all turn to face her as she approaches them. Both her father and his are wearing black tuxedoes, and their mothers are wearing shimmery gold dresses of different styles. Typical. They've always been in competition with one another.

"Vivienne!" Suzette, Gabriel's mother exclaims. "I'm so glad that you've joined us. You look wonderful, darling."

She can only muster a smile. This is the third time Suzette has said this to her. She smiles and she's reminded of Gabriel again. He looks so much like his mother, and nothing like his father, James, with dark hair and eyes. She's always been intimidated by James, even though she's known him forever.

Suzette makes a show of looking around. "Where's Gabriel?"

He isn't anywhere to be found. She asks someone to look for him, but it's no use. He must've used the backdoor, because he isn't here and no one saw him leave. She catches Etta's eye. She doesn't like how wet her eyes are. She doesn't dare to glance around the room. She doesn't want to see pity in their eyes. It's the last thing she needs. He didn't even bother to wait for the cutting of the cake.

He doesn't care, and the worst part is he doesn't care that they all know.