Chapter 45: A Little Closer

Several days passed after Damon and Vivian visited the mall.

Their routine at Blackstone Manor remained much the same. They trained together in the mornings, occasionally ate breakfast afterward, and went about their own business for the rest of the day.

But Vivian had started finding reasons to spend more time with Damon.

Sometimes she visited the study while he worked. Other times, she joined him in the courtyard after training, even when she had nothing to ask and no intention of practicing further.

Damon noticed. He didn’t mind her company, and he was curious to see where her growing interest would lead.

One afternoon,he found Vivian in the courtyard, practicing the combination he’d taught her that morning.

She repeated it three times, frowned, then started over.

"You’re dropping your guard again," he said.

Vivian turned. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to watch you make the same mistake four times."

"Then you could have said something sooner."

"You seemed determined to discover it yourself."

She rolled her eyes and lowered her hands.

"Can we do something other than training today?"

"Tired already?"

"No. I want to go out."

"Where?"

"Somewhere that isn’t this house."

Damon considered her for a moment. They’d spent most of the past week training, eating together, and occasionally talking. He was curious about her growing interest, but there was no reason to let the relationship stagnate.

"Get changed," he said. "We’ll go."

They drove into the central district and stopped at a quiet restaurant overlooking the river. Vivian chose a table near the windows, ordered without asking for his opinion, and spent the first few minutes talking about a martial arts instructor she’d researched.

Damon listened while checking his phone.

"You aren’t listening."

"I heard you."

"What did I just say?"

"Your instructor has a good competition record, but you aren’t sure whether his training suits your goals."

Vivian paused.

"All right. You were listening."

After the food arrived, the conversation moved to her training schedule, then her family, and eventually to the subject neither of them had brought up directly since their agreement.

Their marriage.

Vivian set down her fork.

"Damon, what do you expect from me once we’re married?"

He looked at her. "That’s a broad question."

"Then I’ll make it simpler. What kind of wife do you expect me to be?"

"I’ve already told you. I don’t want a woman who needs me to make every decision for her."

"That’s about independence. I’m asking about us."

Damon put his phone away.

"All right. What do you want to know?"

Vivian hesitated briefly. She was usually comfortable asking difficult questions, but this one felt different.

"We agreed I’d be your only wife. You also made it clear that there would be other women in your life."

"Yes."

"And you expect me to accept that."

"I expect you to decide whether you can."

She looked down at her plate.

"I can accept that you had a life before me. I knew that when I agreed to this. But I don’t want to be someone you visit when it’s convenient, or someone who only matters because our families arranged a marriage."

He studied her face for a moment.

"So you want my attention."

"I want to know that being your wife actually means something."

He continued, "But I’m not going to promise you that you’ll always come first. I won’t lie to you just to make this arrangement easier."

"I wouldn’t believe you if you did."

"Good."

She gave him a dissatisfied look. "You could try to make this conversation a little less unpleasant."

"I could. But then we’d both be wasting our time."

For a moment, she looked ready to argue. Instead, she took a breath and leaned back.

"I suppose I’d rather know where I stand."

"Then ask me when you want to know."

It wasn’t a declaration of affection, and she hadn’t expected one. Still, she found herself relieved that he had taken the question seriously.

She had spent years being told what her future would look like. At least with Damon, she could ask what she was getting into and receive an honest answer—even if she didn’t always like it.

They finished lunch and walked along the river before returning to the car.

Vivian was quieter on the drive home.

Damon didn’t press her.

He had learned enough to understand that she wanted to know whether there was a place for her in his life beyond the title of wife.

He could give her a place.

Whether it would be the place she imagined was another matter.

That evening, Vivian came to the study.

Damon was finishing some work when she entered and closed the door behind her.

"Are you busy?"

"Not anymore."

She approached his desk but didn’t sit down.

"There’s something else I wanted to ask you."

"Go ahead."

Vivian took a moment to gather her thoughts.

"We’ve talked about marriage, but we haven’t really talked about... everything that comes with it."

Damon leaned back in his chair, waiting.

She folded her arms, then unfolded them again.

"I’m not inexperienced because I haven’t had opportunities. I’ve simply never wanted to take that step with someone unless it meant something to me."

He understood what she was getting at.

"You mean sex."

Her cheeks warmed slightly. "You don’t have to say it like you’re discussing the weather."

"Would you prefer I pretend I don’t understand?"

"No."

"Then continue."

She gave him a sharp look before carrying on.

"I want my first time to be special. Not because I expect some perfect romantic moment, but because I want to choose it. I want to feel that I’m ready, rather than doing it because we’re engaged and everyone expects us to act like a married couple."

He watched her carefully.

She was explaining a boundary, and she seemed almost embarrassed to admit how much it mattered to her.

"All right," he said.

Vivian blinked. "That’s all?"

"What did you expect?"

"I don’t know. An argument, perhaps."

"Would arguing change your mind?"

"No."

"Then why would I waste my time?"

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Damon rose from his chair and came around the desk. He stopped in front of her, close enough that she had to tilt her head slightly to meet his eyes.

"Vivian, I’m not going to pretend I have no interest in you. I do. But I’m not interested in forcing you into something you’ll regret."

Her gaze searched his face.

"And if I take my time?"

"Then you take your time."

The answer sounded simple, almost careless. Yet he hadn’t dismissed her concern or tried to persuade her to change her mind.

She didn’t know what to make of that.

Part of her had expected him to be impatient. He was confident, accustomed to getting what he wanted, and hardly the sort of man who seemed willing to wait for anything.

Another part of her had hoped he’d say something more—that he wanted their first time to matter to him, too.

But she had no right to expect that. They had agreed to marry, not fallen in love.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

The tension eased.

For a moment, she considered reaching for him. She wanted to know what it would feel like to stand closer, to let herself enjoy the attraction she had spent so much time trying to keep under control.

Instead, she took his hand.

It was a small gesture, but she chose it deliberately.

Damon glanced down at their joined hands, then back at her. He didn’t pull away.

Vivian held on for another moment before releasing him.

"I should go."

"All right."

She reached the door, then turned back.

"I enjoyed today."

"Then we can do it again."

A smile appeared on her face.

"I’d like that."

She left before she could say anything else.

Vivian returned to her room with mixed feelings.

She was relieved that Damon hadn’t pressured her. She’d expected him to be impatient, perhaps even dismissive, but he’d accepted her decision without argument.

Yet part of her had hoped for something more.

She wanted her first time to mean something to her, and she wanted to believe it might mean something to him, too. But he hadn’t said that. She couldn’t turn his willingness to wait into a promise he had never made.

She liked him more than she’d intended. That was becoming difficult to ignore.

She sat on the edge of her bed, remembering how easily she’d taken his hand in the study.

She wanted to marry him. She wanted to be close to him. And, despite everything she’d learned about his nature, she wanted to believe she could become someone special to him.

That last part frightened her most.

She had chosen this engagement for herself. She wasn’t going to run away simply because her feelings had become complicated.

But she wasn’t ready to give him everything she had, either.

Not yet.