Page 1 of Challenging Her Protector

Chapter One

Vivienne Day wasspoiled. Confused. Selfish.

At least, that’s what her parents had drilled into her head for the past month. She didn’t want to marry Scott, and once her family’s insistence, and his, had turned feral in nature, she was already trapped. A determined bead of sweat worked its way down her back, which was a feat because the bodice of her dress was digging into her sides, making it hard to draw a breath. Between the beaded mermaid gown squeezing the life out of her and the rising panic closing her throat, passing out seemed like a real possibility. She wanted out. So much that she’d reached out to her sister Hannah who lived in Virginia with her nephew Collin.

Hannah had broken away from the family or pushed out, depending on how you looked at it, when she discovered she was pregnant at eighteen. Their parents wanted to sweep that dirty secret under the lid of a grand piano and slam it shut. In other words, they wanted to force her to end the pregnancy. Hannah had other ideas though and wasn’t afraid to make her own way to protect her baby. She was brave and strong-willed, so she up and left. Hannah was Vivienne’s hero. Strong in ways she could never be. Here she was, though. Giving it her all. This would either set her free, cost her everything, or worse, put someone she loved in harm’s way.

“Your hands are ice.” Concern darkened Thalia’s eyes. Blades of spring grass to unripened olives.

Vivienne swallowed hard and did something she didn’t do with anyone else. Told the truth. “I’m scared.” It wasn’t like she was a pathological liar, but when she spoke no one cared too much what she had to say unless it was making them money, and so, she’d stopped. Thalia Flores was her best friend, though. It was a secret friendship. One that was limited by Vivienne’s family and the absurd societal hierarchy between them. This was modern day, not some episode ofBridgerton, and still, she wasn’t allowed to hang out with Thalia because she was her personal attendant.

“I know.” Understanding flashed over Thalia’s face, and she gave Vivienne’s hands a quick double squeeze before releasing them. Thalia’s hands dropped to her sides, while Vivienne curled hers around her midsection seeking warmth that wasn’t there. All her skin connected with were layers of lace appliques and lines of beadwork.

“I didn’t get a moment to speak with Hannah while our makeup was getting done. What if she hates me? Or her boyfriend didn’t read the note?” Her voice reflected her waning oxygen levels. Breathless.

“Vivienne, stop. You’re going to hyperventilate. Let’s go over the plan again. I’ll make a distraction—”

“No!” She hadn’t meant to shout quite so loudly. She never knew when someone was sneaking around waiting to eavesdrop on her conversations. “You’ve taken too many risks today.” First, Thalia had penned the note to Hannah for her. Vivienne’s writing was nearly illegible, and getting the words floating in her head down on paper never seemed to click. Then Thalia had fallen to the floor, feigning some illness, giving her time to run past the butler who’d been instructed to guard her bedroom door. Never had she thought she’d be a prisoner on the estate where she grew up, but that was exactly what had happened.

“I love you, Vivienne. I’ll take the risks. You are the one thing that eased my heartache when I was brought here.”

Before she had a moment to ask what she meant by that, footsteps shuffling over the floor silenced her words. Her father’s large frame filled the doorway. The look on his face, the red of his cheeks, the flair of his nostrils, made her heart bottom out into her stomach. His eyes locked on Thalia, and she instinctively skirted between them.

“I’m ready,” she announced, trying to make sense of the hostile energy that hung in the air.

“Thalia. Come here.” The corner of his neatly trimmed mustache twitched.

Thalia’s warm palm touched her back briefly, then she moved around Vivienne, head lowered and stopped at her father’s side. His meaty palm closed around Thalia’s upper arm, and she sucked in a breath, stepping forward. Thalia’s face jerked quickly to the left, her eyes pleading as if to saydon’t. Her father quickly turned, yanking Thalia with him over the threshold and into the hallway. Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel the blood rushing beneath her skin. The tempo of her pulse jumping at her neck and wrists. Her father must’ve found out Thalia had helped her, sealing her friend’s fate. What had she done? Vivienne couldn’t let her wants override Thalia’s safety, and in the clutches of her father, she was anything but safe. Especially if she had angered him in some way. Her feet were moving over the plush heirloom rug when Scott, her fiancé, and Rochelle, the wedding planner from hell, entered the room.

“Stop this.” His hair was slicked back and the dark eyes that had once charmed her were cold. “Your mother told me something went on at the house this morning. That Thalia was involved. What did you do?” His voice was demanding. He got his way or people got trampled beneath his designer shoes.

“Where is he taking her?” Her bottom lip was trembling with the effort not to burst into tears.

“Thalia is in the country illegally. She’s as good as gone.”

His words delivered a sharp blow to her chest. How silly to think she was panicking before. Now her lungs were truly stripped bare. He crossed the room, and the sharp, spicy scent of his cologne assaulted her nostrils. She opened her mouth to demand to know more, but Scott roughly gripped her chin between his thumb and index finger. “Behave like an adult. You think I want to marry you? I don’t. This is about creating an alliance.” His wine-soured breath and an occasional fleck of spit hit her face. A burning sensation pricked behind her lids, not because of his words, though. His grip continued to tighten until she was sure her jawbone would snap. None of the things he said was new information. His proposal a few weeks ago was prefaced by a similar statement.

“You’ve gotten through life because of the way you look, but I know the truth. All beauty. Less than zero brains. You should be on your knees thanking me for agreeing to this union. No more whining or acting like you’re the one getting a raw deal here.” He released her chin, the smooth pads of his fingers leaving a tingling sensation in their wake before his palm made purchase with her upper arm. “After you my dear.” His hand swept out, gesturing to the door that would take them to the party below. She stiffened when they reached the top of the stairs. She could picture Scott roughly shoving her down them. If that mental image didn’t scream doomed marriage, she didn’t know what did. One thing she was certain of though; was this was no longer about her.

Her ability to get out of this situation and away from her family meant she could get help for Thalia. She could try to bargain. Tell Scott and her parents she’d only marry him if they didn’t do anything to harm Thalia. Maybe in a different family that would work, but not in one that would quickly agree to a deal and break it just as easily. Releasing a less than steady breath, she took the first step. The boisterous chatter faded to hushed whispers as she descended the stairs. The thick scent of lilies and wood polish hung in the air. A few women at the table closest were obviously speculating the designer of her dress. Another mumbled their approval with a swift intake of breath.

Her mother, Agatha, crossed toward her and the expression of love and concern sliced right through her. How she wished that expression was genuine. One that she saw often and out of public view. Agatha held out her arms and leaned in to kiss both cheeks, and leaned in to whisper in her ear, “Smile.” Her hot breath hissed into Vivienne’s eardrum, and she fought the urge to flinch. Instead, she plastered a smile on her face so their guests would assume an endearing sentiment was being shared. “Don’t mess this up.”

When Scott came down the stairs, he gave a politician’s wave and flashed those in attendance a bright smile. Again, he gripped her arm and lead her to one of the tables without so much as a smile or a tender touch. And then she spotted Hannah’s glossy red hair, curled into soft waves that flowed over her bare freckled shoulders and onto her heavily beaded dress. Her expression was real, and it was startling. If looks could cause someone to wither and die, Hannah’s would’ve melted Scott to the floor like a coat of wax.

Hannah’s anger on her behalf gave her a much-needed boost. Scott raised his glass to the crowd. “Family and friends,” he toasted and warmth poured from his voice. His arm slid around her waist, and he tilted his chin to glance at her with an expression of endearment. A chill snaked down her spine. Her fiancé could make people believe anything. He could hurt her, demean her, spread lies, and no one would believe her over him. “Thank you for embracing us with love on this joyous occasion. Please take your seats for the first course.”

As if waiting for the invitation to begin serving, the waitstaff suddenly appeared and circled through the room, placing salad plates on the golden chargers already laid out on the table. The course was paired with wine as were the second and third. If she was going to do this, it had to be soon. She noticed Hannah and Collin leaving their seats.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Vivienne told her fiancé. The man gave her a look that could only be described as disgust.

“Can’t you wait until our guests leave?” He didn’t bother to hide the annoyance. Their table was mostly out of earshot. A sweetheart table so the happy couple could be displayed for all to see.

“Not unless you want me to pee my dress and make a scene.” Thinking of Thalia pushed heat she didn’t know she possessed into her voice.

“Don’t be so childish.”

She picked up her small clutch that contained her phone, charger, and wallet, then stood and crossed the room, sure someone would be following her momentarily. Her heart thundered as she glanced back into the rehearsal dinner room filled with obnoxious laughter, before closing the door lightly behind her. Like she could use the restroom in a dress that weighed a gazillion pounds. Her heels clicking over the marble floor was amplified by her anxiety. Surely, she wasn’t being as loud as she thought. If she hadn’t been practically born wearing stilettos, she’d probably sprain her ankle on the glossed floors. She swallowed down a gulp of fear. Fear that her estranged older sister Hannah hadn’t gotten her message. Fear that she’d be forced into a marriage with someone she’d grown to despise. Fear because for the first time, she was standing up to her oppressive family and making a choice for her future. One of her choosing.

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