Chapter 22 Bonding
Vivienne's POV
I laughed when I was writing this particular note. A club? How silly can I be? How do I even expect him to go to a club with me? Someone that hardly goes out but the adventurous side of me still insisted on sending him the note.
Maybe it was a dare but it didn't look like one when he walked up to me during breakfast, with his eyes fixed on me, his lips curled in a smile, his left hand in his pocket.
“You didn't tell me you enjoy seeing me drunk,” he bent down to my ear level, and said those words in a whisper making me shiver.
Then he dropped a note in front of me. And walked away without a word from me.
And I smiled.
“Dress well and sexy enough that I could eat you. At 9pm the driver will pick you up and bring you to an exclusive clubhouse.”
What did I just read? He bought my plan, I wasn't even expecting it but I guess he's trying to be loosen up a bit.
I didn't bother replying to the note, I simply went into my closet to pick up something really extremely sexy that would make heads turn, including his.
"I didn't know you knew a place like this. This place is absolutely on fire, it's out of this world," I said, my eyes still sweeping across the room.
I couldn't stop admiring everything around me, the sheer beauty of the clubhouse, the stunning women moving gracefully through the space, the high-value men sitting in their private sections with a girl or two perched close beside them, laughing softly at whatever was being said. This sure didn't look like any regular club I'd been to before. There was so much class here, so much refined taste in every corner. You could literally smell the money in the air, mixed with expensive perfume and aged leather.
The music wasn't blaring like in normal clubs. Instead, the soundscape was carefully controlled, thoughtfully managed. The music played at just the right volume, cool and smooth, never demanding attention but always enhancing the mood. Around us, conversations created a low, sophisticated murmur, like the gentle hum of an exclusive gathering. There was this sense of timelessness to the whole place, as if the outside world with all its noise and urgency had been left at the door, unable to penetrate these walls.
"It's beautiful," I said, tilting my head back slightly. "I mean, just look at the chandeliers." I gestured upward at the magnificent crystal fixture hanging just above our heads, its light catching and reflecting in a thousand tiny prisms.
"I know," he replied simply, a slight smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "But you're wondering how I got to know this place, aren't you? Since I don't really go out much."
He looked at me then, really looked at me. His gaze moved slowly across my face, then lower, as if he was trying to understand and memorize every curve and angle of my body. Even the cuts and scars that were no longer clearly visible unless someone looked close enough, the way he was looking now.
I felt exposed under that stare, but not uncomfortable. Just... seen.
We talked for a long time after that, our conversation flowing easily from one topic to another.
But even as we spoke, I found myself watching him too. I noticed the way his face changed expressions when he was thinking, the slight crease between his eyebrows when he concentrated. I watched his throat, the way his Adam's apple moved up and down each time he took a sip of his drink, the smooth motion almost hypnotic.
There was something intimate about noticing these small details, these tiny movements that made him human, that made this moment feel real and significant.
The club continued to pulse around us with its quiet energy, but in our little cornert, ime seemed to slow down completely.