Page 6 of It Happened In Paris

Oddly, I couldn’t find Vivian’s name on the chart. As a cousin to the bride, she ought to have been there somewhere. But why was I even hunting for the single mother in the first place?

After dinner, I drifted through the ballroom, my eyes on constant alert for her when they shouldn’t be. A sea of five-hundred people in a room full of red roses, gold, and china, all the holiday wedding finery the Buchanan’s could afford, made it a chore.

I was in one of those moods—my signature scowl probably deterred everyone from approaching, which suited me fine sincethese high-society acquaintances meant nothing to me unless they were useful in my business ventures. Eventually, I bumped into Brooks and Archer Bellamy.

“There’s the investor of the year,” Archer joked, offering a handshake.

Brooks slapped my back. “According toInvestment Today,you’re the one to watch.” The fraternal twins, who ran one of the most coveted architecture firms in the city, had been friends of Rex’s and mine for years.

“Thanks. That’s alsowhat she said,” I laughed with them. “Do you think I could use the award to pick up ladies?”

Not exactly one for basking in the spotlight, I did relish the accolades. Since stepping away from my CEO role at Buchanan Energy, I’d been globetrotting, carefully investing in businesses and people, and my reputation had grown along with padding my bank account and investments nicely. That recent feature on me was just—the icing on the cake.

Speaking of… I finally glimpsed Vivian emerging through the service doors by the cake table, and suddenly the world around me faded away.

Damn. If she weren’t a mother, I’d be all in, especially with this feeling like we’d known each other in another life. I sensed it in the helicopter ride. The way she’d swept her hair over her shoulder, the slight tilt of her face in my direction, and the lilt in her voice… all so achingly familiar.

Had we met before? Perhaps we’d often crossed paths at a quaint Paris café? I would have noticed her. Rarely did Inotapproach a woman like her and shoot my shot, but if we had met, she’d probably have brushed me aside, just like in our helicopter ride to the city where she turned down my invitation to Paris.

This was new—a woman not falling at my feet for a chance to tie down Richard Buchanan. The society papers wereresponsible for that, on constant watch for the next female on my arm at the various galas I attended. The speculation about my relationship status proved good fodder for newspaper sales, according to Mother, who could very well be the society page writer’s best source fueling that fire for all I knew.

Noticeably, Vivian had changed into a simple black dress, demure yet elegant. Her chestnut hair swept up to reveal a graceful neckline. Curvaceous and captivating, she drew the admiring gazes of many men around her. Especially mine.

I had a suspicion Brooks’ eyes were more on Maisy, though, Chelsea’s sister, who stood by the table speaking to Vivian.

“Go over to her and talk,” I suggested to him, wishing someone would give me the go ahead to do the same with Vivian.

“Not sure there’s any point. She won’t return my texts. Besides, I just got an offer to teach architecture in history over in London on a fellowship for a year. We’re like two ships heading in different directions, literally,” he explained, and smirked when the date at his side huffed about his talk of another woman.

“But you’ll be passing on the offer because I refuse to let you leave our business for a year, correct?” Archer eyed him sternly.

I left them arguing over it, while their dates feigned boredom. Little did they all know, my eyes tracked Vivian’s every move. My feet, too, had carried me directly toward her until she slipped behind a service door once again. Miriam’s hand on my shoulder suddenly stopped me from following any further.

“Isn’t this grand, Richard? Look at the ballroom. So beautiful. The wedding I’d always dreamed of.” A tear sprang to her eye as she spoke like this event belonged solely to her, not to Rex and Chelsea.

Dear God. If I ever married again, hopefully he’d spare me from this torture with her. When I suffered through wedding planning with my ex, Miriam made the experience hellish. Once was enough for one lifetime.

If—and this was a very strongly wordedif—I ever married again, I’d elope, and then I’d ask my mother for forgiveness after.

“Yes. The entire soirée is splendid—especially the open bar. Excuse me,” I mumbled and moved away, but she kept pace, linking her arm with mine.

“Don’t think I’m oblivious to what you’re doing—avoiding me? Fine. Enjoy your fun now, but soon, Richard, we’re going to have a serious chat about your future. It’s time to let go of your past and move on with your life.” With that veiled threat, she slipped away before I could protest. I sulked at the bar, seated and drinking, while the good bartender kept my glass full.

When the band announced it was time for the happy couple to cut the cake, I stumbled my way over, by now fairly inebriated, and stood nearby as Vivian gracefully oversaw the whole ritual.

She handed a shared slice to Rex and Chelsea, and true to his promise to Mother, he refrained from smashing it into his bride’s face. Instead, he decorated her nose with a mere dab of icing followed by a loving kiss, causing whispers of adorableness and clapping from the guests all around.

When Chelsea’s turn came, she playfully threatened him with half the slice. I would have loved to see Rex’s face covered in cake, but she resisted.

My jealousy surged. That moment should’ve been mine with Janet—a name I despised even thinking—but luckily it wasn’t. Just hours before my own wedding ceremony, I’d caught her in another man’s arms, scheming to marry then kill me and run offwith my money—because I had loved and trusted her enough to forgo a prenup. Ouch, my stupidity still hurt now.

Until that moment, I’d believed in the institution of marriage and raising a family, and wanted my own. I had dreamed of having what my father had—success in business, an adoring wife, and two kids.

That dream left along with Janet’s shit the day the movers came and hauled it all away. It’d be a cold day in hell before I ever trusted another woman to “have and to hold from this day forward.”

Now, as a wealthy, virile man, all I desired was a parade of beautiful women I could enjoy in bed for just one night before moving on. But for Vivian, I could make an exception… with a trip to Paris, and aweekin my bed. I’d hire a nanny for her daughter, and my mind spun with possibilities from there as I wandered the reception, lost in my head. What was this woman doing to me?

About an hour after the cake was served, I finally spotted her again, hugging Chelsea and Rex, then heading off to the lobby. I caught up with her at the elevators, where she stood wiping her brow with the back of her hand, utterly exhausted—as if she needed a day at the best spa in France. I could arrange that in a heartbeat if only she’d say yes.

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