Novel Full Chapter 278: The First Course
Chapter 278: The First Course
The dining room was a cavern of mahogany and gold, silent as a tomb.
Alex stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the sprawling, manicured gardens of the Vanderbilt estate. But he wasn’t admiring the view.
He was listening.
He extended his senses, pushing his awareness out through the walls, sweeping through the corridors and the servant’s quarters.
Nothing.
Silence.
The villa was empty.
No guards patrolling the perimeter. No maids bustling in the kitchen. No chauffeur waiting by the garage.
A slow, dark smile curled Alex’s lips.
They had cleared the house.
Vivienne had sent everyone away. She wanted absolute privacy for this little charade, likely to protect her reputation… or perhaps to hide the fact that she was currently playing a submissive assistant to her own employee.
Perfect.
It made things so much simpler. No witnesses. No interruptions. No one to hear them scream… or beg.
He turned away from the window, his hand sliding into his pocket to brush against the scrap of black lace tucked there. The silk was still warm.
He leaned against the heavy oak table, his mind dissecting the game board.
Vivienne was stubborn. Even after what he’d done to her in the hallway… after he’d tasted her, marked her, and taken her panties as a souvenir… she was still committed to the lie. She had run up those stairs not to flee, but to fetch her “boss.”
She was still playing “Helena the assistant.”
She thought she was manipulating him. Thought she’d positioned him perfectly… a weapon she could aim at her own family, fire, and walk away clean.
Adorable.
But if she wanted to play assistant…
If she wanted to serve, to follow orders, to stand in the background while he focused on “Mrs. Vanderbilt”…
Then he’d give her exactly what she was asking for.
He’d treat her like the assistant she claimed to be.
And he’d force her to watch… helpless, silent, aching… as he seduced the woman wearing her name, her title, her power.
He’d make Vivienne Vanderbilt jealous of herself.
The thought was so deliciously twisted that Alex had to suppress a laugh.
Let’s see how long you can maintain that mask, Mrs. Vanderbilt. Let’s see how long you can watch me touch your cousin, flirt with your cousin, make your cousin melt… before you break.
A low, dark laugh threatened to escape, but Alex caught it, buried it, let it settle into a cold, predatory satisfaction deep in his chest.
Oh, this is going to be fun.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside.
Soft. Measured. Two sets… one confident, heavy with performative authority. The other lighter, hesitant… following behind.
They were coming.
Alex turned from the window, his expression smoothing into something polite, curious, perfectly neutral.
The double doors pushed open.
And there she was.
Helena Vanderbilt… dressed in Vivienne’s skin.
An emerald green gown hugged her figure like liquid silk, plunging dangerously low in the back. Diamond studs glinted at her ears. Her hair was swept into the exact, severe chignon Vivienne wore when she wanted to remind people who held the power.
She was beautiful.
Strikingly, undeniably beautiful.
And Alex understood immediately why Vivienne had been so confident in this insane plan. If he hadn’t already met the real Vivienne… if he hadn’t already tasted her, touched her, felt her tremble in his arms… he might have believed it.
They were nearly identical. Same height, same build, same bone structure. Cousins who could pass for sisters if the lighting was right and the observer wasn’t paying attention.
His gaze shifted past Helena, landing on the woman trailing a few steps behind.
Vivienne.
Dressed in that devastatingly tight pencil skirt and white blouse, playing the role of demure assistant with the same precision Helena was using to play CEO.
But there was a difference.
Vivienne’s performance was flawless. No uncertainty. No overcompensation. Just perfect, submissive professionalism wrapped around a core of steel.
And at the corners of her mouth… barely visible, almost hidden… a small, smug smile.
She was enjoying this.
Helena crossed the room with measured steps, the emerald gown rustling softly, and extended her hand.
”Mr. Hale,” she said, her voice steady, controlled. “It’s my pleasure to finally meet you.”
She paused, tilting her head slightly, offering a smile that practiced but effective.
”You’re a very hard man to catch, you know that?”
There was a tease in her tone. A subtle probe. Testing to see how he’d respond to mild flirtation wrapped in business courtesy.
Alex took her hand, his grip firm without being aggressive, warm without lingering too long.
”Mrs. Vanderbilt,” he said, his voice smooth and devastatingly polite. “The pleasure is all mine. And the honor of meeting a woman like you.”
His eyes held hers, dark and unreadable, and for just a moment Helena felt like she was standing on the edge of something very deep and very dangerous.
Then he released her hand, stepping back with a small, respectful nod.
Flattery without fawning. Respect without submission.
Interesting, Helena thought, a flicker of genuine attraction sparking in her chest.
She gestured toward the woman standing quietly near the doorway, still partially in shadow.
”This is my secretary,” she said, her tone casual, dismissive in the exact way Vivienne used when introducing subordinates. “And my cousin. Helena Vanderbilt.”
She paused, letting the name land.
”You’ve already met her, I believe. I hope she’s been taking good care of you?”
Vivienne stepped forward, her expression carefully neutral, her movements precise.
She extended her hand toward Alex.
Their fingers touched.
And Alex smiled… slow, dark, utterly mischievous.
”Oh,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving Vivienne’s face. “She’s taken very good care of me.”
He took her hand, but instead of shaking it, he turned it over gently, his thumb brushing across her knuckles in a way that was far too intimate, far too deliberate.
”Haven’t you, Helena?”
Vivienne’s breath hitched, the sound trapped in her throat.
For a fracturing second, the memory of the hallway washed over her… visceral and hot. It should have been humiliating to be reminded of how easily she had been stripped of her dignity, reduced to a trembling mess against a wall.
But beneath the flush of shame lay something darker, something infinitely more potent: a smoldering, proprietary pride.
Her eyes flicked sideways, catching Helena’s gaze, and she saw it… the sharp, jagged flash of envy cracking her cousin’s composed mask.
I had him first, the look said.
”I certainly hope I was…” Vivienne paused, letting the word roll over her tongue like a promise, “…satisfactory, sir.”
”More than satisfactory,” Alex promised.
Helena didn’t miss the beat.
She had caught the sultry, possessive edge in Vivienne’s tone, and she understood the subtext immediately. It wasn’t an apology; it was a taunt. A gloating reminder that while Helena might be playing the boss, Vivienne had already tasted the merchandise.
The nerve of her.
A flash of hot irritation spiked in Helena’s chest. Vivienne was supposed to be the submissive assistant, not the smug rival rubbing her nose in it.
Enough.
She stepped forward, her smile bright and hard, physically cutting off Vivienne’s line of sight to reclaim control of the room.
”Let’s not stand on ceremony,” she interrupted, her voice raising just a fraction to sever the tension.
She gestured toward the long mahogany table with a gracious, sweeping motion of her arm, demanding Alex’s eyes back on her.
”Dinner is ready. Please, Mr. Hale, sit.”