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Desperate Measures
Victoria walked into the penthouse she now shared with Vincent, her mind still churning over what she’d seen. The Maison Delacroix van. Élise Fontaine herself making a personal house call Right here in this very building.
She found Vincent in the living room, scrolling through his phone with a glass of whiskey in hand.
“Vincent,” Victoria said, dropping her purse on the marble counter “Who else lives in this building? Anyone we know?”
Vincent looked up. “Why are you asking?”
“Because I just saw Maison Delacroix making a delivery. Victoria crossed her arms. “That’s not the kind of service they provide to just anyone. So who lives here that would warrant that kind of attention?”
Vincent’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “That woman. The one your ex–husband is sleeping with now.”
Victoria froze. “What woman?”
“Sophia Laurent. She lives on this floor. A few units down.” Vincent took a slow sip of his whiskey. “I see Adrian around here often because of her.”
“Sophia Laurent?” Victoria repeated, her mind racing.
Victoria sank onto the leather sofa, her thoughts spinning. Adrian with Sophia Laurent. And if Maison Delacroix was delivering to her apartment…
“She was preparing for something,” Victoria said slowly. “Something important. You don’t get Élise Fontaine for a casual dinner party.”
Vincent shrugged, but something flickered across his face…a brief moment where his eyes went distant. The property records for this building had listed Adrian Cole as the owners. He quickly removed the thought from his mind, that good for nothing couldn’t probably afford that building.
The very idea was absurd.
Vincent shook his head, dismissing the thought entirely. “Who cares what she’s preparing for? Some desperate attempt to look important, probably.”
But Victoria wasn’t listening anymore. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out absently, still thinking about the
delivery.
The screen showed a news alert: Upcoming Luxury Events This Month
Victoria opened it, scanning the list of galas, charity auctions, and society functions.
Then she stopped.
Madame Duchamp’s Annual Business Gala – By Invitation Only.
Victoria’s breath caught.Madame Duchamp’s gala. The most prestigious business networking event of the year. The connections made there could transform everything. And the founder…Madame Duchamp herself…was legendary for personally mentoring promising entrepreneurs.
If Victoria could attend that gala, if she could gain Madame Duchamp’s endorsement…
The SunCore partnership would be within reach. Her reputation could be salvaged in a single evening.
“I need to go to this,” Victoria whispered.
Vincent looked up. “Go to what?”
“Madame Duchamp’s gala. This Saturday.” Victoria’s voice grew more animated. “Vincent, this is perfect. If I could get Madame Duchamp’s endorsement, if she believed in Cole Enterprises, everyone would follow. The press, the investors, even SunCore…they’d all see that I’m worth betting on.”
Desperate Measures
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Vincent set down his whiskey glass, his expression thoughtful. “You’re right. Madame Duchamp’s support would be huge. She’s got connections everywhere. If she vouches for you publicly.”
“Exactly!” Victoria stood, pacing excitedly. “One evening. One conversation with her. That’s all I need to turn this around.”
Then her face fell. “But it’s invitation–only. And I… I don’t have any connections to her. No way to get an invitation.”
Her voice cracked slightly on the last words, the desperation bleeding through despite her attempts to sound confident.
Vincent took this as his opportunity to act important once more.“Hey,” he said, standing and crossing to her. “Don’t worry about that.”
Victoria looked up at him, her eyes wide. “But how…”
“I’ll get you an invitation,” Vincent interrupted, his voice confident. “I have contacts. People who owe me favors. Leave it to me.”
“Really?” Hope bloomed across Victoria’s face. “You can do that?”
“Of course I can.” Vincent pulled her close, his hands settling on her waist. “You think I’d let my future wife miss the opportunity of a lifetime? I’ll make some calls tomorrow. By Friday, you’ll have your invitation.”
Victoria’s arms wrapped around his neck. “Vincent, thank you. Thank you so much. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’ll never have to find out,” Vincent murmured, leaning down to kiss her.
Victoria kissed him back, relief and gratitude making her respond more vigorously.Vincent had come through for her again. She knew he was not like the useless Adrian Cole. Vincent has connections and power, everything she wanted in a man.
Vincent deepened the kiss, his hands sliding down her back. Victoria didn’t pull away. Instead, she let him guide her toward the bedroom, let him distract her from all the stress and humiliation and fear.
The next morning, Vincent lay awake in bed long after Victoria had fallen asleep beside him.
His mind worked through the promise he made. Getting an invitation to Madame Duchamp’s gala. He’d made it sound easy, confident, like he had connections that could make it happen.
The truth was more complicated.
He did have one contact…a mid–level manager at one of Madame Duchamp’s restaurants who owed him a favor from years ago. The favor wasn’t nearly big enough to warrant an invitation to the most exclusive event of the year, but Vincent would have to make it work.
He had to make Victoria more dependent on him at any cost.
If she attended that gala and it went well, she’d credit him with saving her career. She’d owe him everything.
Vincent smiled in the darkness, his hand resting possessively on Victoria’s body as she slept.
Everything was still going according to plan.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
