Vivienne POV
With a slow, deliberate movement, Vivienne opened her door, her breath catching in her throat. She told herself she didn’t know why. Told herself she shouldn’t. But deep down, an unfamiliar pull made it impossible to stop.
Grayson stood there, his tie hanging loose around his neck, his dark hair tousled in that maddeningly careless way, as if he’d spent the last few minutes pacing and running his hands through it. The fire in his eyes hadn’t dimmed since their argument, and now it smoldered in a way that made Vivienne’s hands itch to do something reckless, like tug him closer just to see what would happen.
“Can I come in, Vivienne?” He asked, his lips tugging up in that smirk she hated—and made her knees weak at the same time, though she would never admit that.
“Get in her
