Chapter 51 Bliss
Vivienne's POV
And when things got too much, when the cameras and the questions and the fake smiles got to be too much, we'd go home. Back to our real life. Back to just being Raphael and Vivienne. Not Mr. and Mrs. Moreau. Not the power couple. Just us.
That's what mattered. That's what kept us going. Knowing that at the end of every long day, every fake event, every camera flash, we had each other. We had our home. Our real life together.
We were still a team. Still the best team in the whole world.
Though sometimes it was inconvenient.
Year three started with a cover story. "Power Couple: Inside the Moreau Empire."
They wanted to interview us. Both of us. About the business. About our marriage. About everything.
"No," I said immediately.
"It would be good for publicity," Raphael's PR person said.
"No," I said again. "I don't do interviews."
Raphael backed me up. "Vivienne's private. That's not changing."
They compromised. Raphael did the interview. I appeared in the photos. Looking elegant. Looking like the perfect wife.
The article came out. "Raphael Moreau credits his wife as his secret weapon. Though Vivienne remains out of the spotlight, sources close to the couple say she's deeply involved in all major business decisions."
It was as close to the truth as the public would get.
"Are you happy now?”Raphael asked.
“Yes," I said.
I was. Being his public wife wasn't always easy. But it was worth it. There are days I love seeing around me, while there are days I regret agreeing to his plan.
By the third year we knew each other's bodies like maps. Every scar. Every sensitive spot. Every way to give pleasure.
We made love everywhere. The bedroom. The office after everyone left. The yacht. Once in the back of the car on the way home from an event because we couldn't wait.
"We're not teenagers," I said, laughing as he pulled me onto his lap.
"I don't care," he said, already lifting my dress.
The driver didn't even blink. He'd seen worse things in his life.
But our connection wasn't just about the physical attraction between us. The love we shared went much deeper than that. It reached into our bones. It touched our very souls.
I had learned to read him like a book. I knew when he was stressed or worried before he even said a single word. I could see it in the way he held his shoulders, tight and tense. I could see it in the small lines that appeared around his eyes when something was bothering him.
"Talk to me," I would say gently. "Tell me what's wrong."
And he would open up to me. He would tell me about the business deal that was falling apart. He would share his worries about the investor who had decided to pull out at the last minute. He would confess his deepest fears about failing, about not being good enough, about letting everyone down.
"You won't fail," I would tell him, meaning every word. "We won't let you. We're in this together."
He understood me just as deeply. He knew all of my demons, all of my inner struggles.
He saw through the confident face I showed the world. He recognized the insecurity that still crept into my mind sometimes, especially late at night. He heard the cruel voice in my head that whispered I wasn't good enough. That I wasn't smart enough. That I simply wasn't enough, no matter what I did.
"You're everything," he would say, his arms pulling me close against his chest. "Don't you ever forget that. You're everything to me."
Despite all the happiness and blissfulness we had found in our marriage, Margot still always managed to find a way to bring her wickedness into our lives. She never stopped trying to cause trouble for us.
And just when I thought everything was finally perfect, when I believed we had overcome all our obstacles, I didn't know that something dangerous was brewing.
An Aura so dark and deadly was simmering somewhere in the shadows, just waiting for the right moment to get access to my home, to my family, to everything I held dear.