Chapter 19

Magnus stood by his desk, his fingers rhythmically tapping against the smooth surface as he reviewed the final report of the day. The sharp, insistent ringing of his phone interrupted his concentration. His gaze shifted to the screen, which displayed an unfamiliar number. Dismissing it with a sigh, he returned his attention to the document in front of him.

The ringing resumed moments later, grating on his nerves. He scowled at the phone, irritation bubbling to the surface. Still, he ignored it. Yet as the buzzing continued relentlessly, an unbidden thought surfaced—what if it was Vivienne?

By the fifth ring, he relented, snatching the phone from the desk. "Magnus," he answered curtly, his tone clipped.

A familiar voice spilled through the line, extinguishing his fleeting hope. "It's me," his mother announced. "Why haven’t you answered my calls all day? I’ve been trying to reach you."

"I’ve been busy," Magnus replied flatly, already dreading the direction this conversation was heading.

"Well," she pressed on, her tone sharp. "Your grandmother mentioned something, and I need to confirm it. Is Vivienne her doctor now?"

His posture stiffened as the inevitable question finally came. Of course, his mother would find out. It was surprising she hadn’t discovered it sooner. Magnus leaned back in his chair, his jaw tightening. "Yes. Why does it matter?"

"Why does it matter?" she echoed, her incredulous tone grating. "That woman has no business treating your grandmother. Have you forgotten what she did? How could you allow this?"

"Mother," he interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Is this the reason you called?"

"Of course, it is!" she snapped. "You don’t find it concerning? God only knows how she managed to get where she is now. Who knows what she—"

"Enough," he bit out, his voice steely. "Vivienne is one of the most respected neurosurgeons in the country. If you have doubts, look it up yourself."

"Respected," his mother scoffed. "She must have—"

"Goodbye, Mother." Magnus ended the call abruptly and tossed the phone onto his desk.

He exhaled a heavy breath, the tension in his shoulders refusing to ease. His mother’s meddling always had a way of rattling him, but today it wasn’t just her. His thoughts were consumed by Vivienne—again.

The memory of their encounter that morning lingered, still raw. A part of him had foolishly hoped for a warmer reception, perhaps even the chance to share breakfast. Instead, she had all but thrown him out.

Running a hand through his hair, Magnus muttered to himself, "Patience. You’re expecting too much, too soon."

Later that evening, he found himself driving to the hospital. His grandmother’s recovery had been steady, and visiting her provided some solace.

When he stepped into her room, her face lit up with her usual warmth. "There you are, my favorite grandson," she greeted as he leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek. "How was your day?"

"Productive," Magnus replied, dragging a chair closer to her bedside. "And you? Feeling better?"

"Better every day," she said with a smile, her hands clasped over the blanket. "But I can’t wait to get out of here. This place is starting to feel like a prison."

He chuckled softly at her grumbling, grateful for the improvement in her spirits. Though they chatted casually, his mind wandered elsewhere—to the doctor responsible for her progress.

When he left her room, his feet seemed to guide him of their own accord to Vivienne’s office. He paused outside the door, his heart hammering. Taking a steadying breath, he knocked.

"Come in," her voice called.

Inside, Vivienne was bent over a stack of paperwork, her pen moving swiftly across the page. She looked up at him, and her expression instantly hardened.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, rising to her feet.

Magnus closed the door and took a few steps into the room. "I came to see you."

She folded her arms, her stance unyielding. "Well, you’ve seen me. Now leave."

Her hostility was expected, but it still stung. "Are you really going to act like last night didn’t happen?"

Her gaze flickered with an emotion he couldn’t place before she masked it with a sharp laugh. "And if I am?"

"Vivienne," he said softly, his voice low and steady.

She scoffed, the sound bitter. "What do you want me to say, Magnus? That it meant something? It was just sex. Nothing more."

He stared at her, disbelief tightening his chest. "Is that really what you think?"

"Yes," she said, though her voice faltered, betraying her.

Closing the distance between them, Magnus trapped her with his piercing gaze. When her back hit the wall, his hands came up to cage her in. "You’re lying," he murmured.

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, silence hung heavy between them. Then, her voice softened, trembling with unspoken longing. "Kiss me."

The words caught him off guard, but her eyes told him everything he needed to know.

Their lips collided, a clash of desperation and pent-up desire. His hands found her waist, pulling her flush against him, while hers tangled in his hair, urging him closer.

He lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her to the edge of the desk. His lips never left hers, even as his hands explored her curves with possessive intent.

"You drive me insane," he murmured against her neck, his voice thick with desire.

"And you," she whispered breathlessly, "you’re doing the same to me."

His fingers slipped beneath the fabric of her panties, eliciting a sharp gasp from her. The way her body responded to his touch, the sounds she made, drove him wild.

Every cry, every moan, every whispered plea only deepened his resolve. When her release came, it was with a shuddering gasp, her head falling back as she clung to him.

Magnus pressed a tender kiss to her lips, lingering for a moment before stepping back. She slumped into her chair, staring at him with wide, unguarded eyes.

"I’ll see you soon," he said softly, his voice laced with promise.

As he exited her office, his arousal still evident, Magnus knew one thing for certain: Vivienne would never be "just sex" to him.