The Perfect Heiress

Fantasizing About A Woman

Chuck's POV

I stepped into the restaurant’s lobby, reaching up to loosen my tie. My brows furrowed as I replayed my own words in my head—words I had spoken in front of Vivienne Sinclair.

"I’d be faithful to you."

Why the hell did I say that? Like I couldn’t wait to declary my purety to her.

The head chef approached me with his usual respectful demeanor. “How were the dishes, sir?” he asked.

Few people knew that this restaurant’s true owner was me. Tonight had been a big deal—the first time I had ever invited a woman to dine here. The entire staff had been on high alert.

Having not eaten a single bite, I simply replied, “Not bad.”

The chef merely shrugged before commenting, “That lady—she’s like Venus. No, no… like Athena. A handsome man and a beautiful woman, you two make the perfect match.”

I let out a slight smirk, a hint of self-mockery laced in my voice. “Really? Maybe I’m not good enough for her.” I turned to leave. “Take care of her for me.”

Just as I was stepping out, my secretary, Ethan, hurried after me, practically jogging.

“Boss, are you really just going to leave?”

I shot him a glance.

“The flowers you had prepared for Miss Sinclair…”

I had completely forgotten about them. The plan was to give them to her after our ‘peaceful’ dinner, but since that dinner had never really happened, they’d slipped my mind entirely.

“Can you bring them to her?”

Ethan scratched his head. “I’d rather not…”

“Then throw them away.” I flicked my cigarette into the trash bin.

Truthfully, I felt a little embarrassed about my earlier words. I’d acted less like a composed gentleman and more like a petulant child desperate for a piece of candy in front of her.

But on second thought, I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “No, wait. Bring me the flowers. I’ll give them to her. You stay here and send her home later.”

As I walked back inside, Vivienne was busy cutting the duck breast on her plate. Even in solitude, her posture remained flawless.

I glanced down at the flowers briefly before tightening my grip.

She didn’t even glance up when I approached—probably assuming I was just another server bringing out a dish.

But when she finally did, her gaze landed on me, her expression betraying a flicker of surprise at the sight of the flowers in my hands.

Standing there under her scrutiny made me feel oddly uncomfortable.

Damn it. I should have just let Ethan deliver the flowers. Why the hell had I come back myself? And worse, why did I feel like some awkward schoolboy in front of her?

Swallowing my irritation, I placed the flowers onto the dining table. “Just some flowers.”

Vivienne gave a slight nod. “Thank you for the flowers, Mr. Knight.”

She remained seated, composed, offering no words to make me stay.

I hadn’t expected her to soften, to ask me to sit. If she did, she wouldn’t be Vivienne Sinclair. But her cold indifference still irked me.

“Enjoy your meal,” I said flatly before turning to leave.

…

The Bentley rolled down Mason Avenue, the rain pattering against the windows. I leaned back, closing my eyes, but my thoughts refused to settle.

A single flower, caught in the wind, was pressed against the glass.

Would she throw the flowers away? The thought annoyed me more than it should have.

By the time I arrived at usual hang out place with my friends, Luca’s voice was the first thing I heard when I stepped inside.

“Weren’t you supposed to be having dinner with Vivienne Sinclair tonight?” Luca set his glass down and leaned forward with a smirk.

I slouched onto the sofa. “I’m in a bad mood. Keep your mouth shut.”

Luca chuckled, unfazed. “It’s only 7:30. Did Miss Sinclair stand you up?”

I exhaled slowly before saying, “Luca, do I look like the type of man who keeps mistresses?”

He blinked, stunned for a moment, before bursting into laughter. “Who accused you of that? Vivienne?” His grin widened. “No wonder you’re sulking.”

I shot him a warning glance, already regretting bringing it up. “She didn’t say it outright.”

“But she implied it,” Luca mused.

Between the lines, her words had carried the same meaning.

“You should have explained,” Luca continued. “You’ve seen all kinds of flowers, but you’ve never actually plucked a single one.”

It was his way of saying I’d been around beautiful women but had never actually indulged.

“If you ever got involved in casual flings, you’d be the first to disgust yourself. Your cleanliness obsession—it’s a real burden.”

He wasn’t wrong. My obsession wasn’t with physical cleanliness; it was about people.

I hated being touched—casual contact, meaningless intimacy.

Luca stretched lazily, “The problem is, you’re too damn attractive. And you are a Knight. Even if you don’t chase after women, they chase after you. Don’t tell me you don’t know how those women talk about you.”

I raised a brow. “Which women?”

“Vivienne’s little circle of girlfriends.” He smirked. “They’re practically dying to strip your pants off and take measurements of your …”

I paused mid-drag on my cigar, exhaling a slow stream of smoke.

No wonder Vivienne had such a poor opinion of me.

Luca smirked. “You never fantasized about a women before?”

I chuckled, tilting my head back slightly. “People fantasize about things they can’t have.” Another swirl of smoke escaped my lips as I let my voice drop, edged with arrogance. “I don’t need to. I have everything I’ve ever wanted.”

For twenty-eight years, life had come easily. I’d never needed to fantasize about anything—including Vivienne Sinclair.

If I wanted her, I could have her.

Fu.ck. I was thinking about her again.

Luca remained unfazed, “Let’s see who wins this game—you or Vivienne. But at this rate, I think you’re going to lose everything… including your underwear to her, Mr. Knight.”

“Shut up.”

…

Probably sensing my bad mood today, the club manager discreetly offered me a companion. A young woman approached hesitantly, standing obediently beside me.

"Mr. Knight… I'm quite skilled at mixing drinks. Would you like to try one?" Her voice was well-practiced as she gently placed a cocktail on the tray beside me. "This drink is called Rupert’s Tear."

When I looked at the cocktail, Vivienne Sinclair popped out in my mind again.

Her perfectly rehearsed yet undeniably beautiful smile.

I had seen her all dazzling, poised, never anything less than captivating at social events before. She moved through rooms with effortless grace, her ambition striking rather than off-putting.

And ambition like that only made men want her more.

Everyone wanted the best—the most beautiful, the most unattainable.

Did I want Vivienne as a woman more than just my contracted bride?

"You should try it, Mr. Knight. It tastes really good," the girl urged.

My gaze drifted lazily toward the girl—not at her face, but at the cascade of long curls spilling over her shoulders.

How long did it take to grow hair that long? A year? Two? More?

And how long would it take to cut it all off? Half an hour? Ten minutes? A single fleeting thought?

How much had Vivienne loved that male celebrity to be willing to cut off her hair for him?

The girl blushed under my stare. She moved closer, but before she could, I lifted the glass, took a sip, and was met with an unexpectedly sweet, light flavor—completely different from what I had anticipated.

Pushing the glass away, I stood, my expression unreadable. "This drink doesn’t deserve its name."

The girl paled.

Turning to Luca, I muttered, “I’m going home.”

…

Shortly after getting into the car, Ethan called to report on the night's events.

"Boss, as per your instructions, Miss Sinclair has been safely taken home."

I leaned back against the seat, eyes closed. “She agreed to get in my car?”

"At first, she refused, but the rain was too heavy. Miss Sinclair knew her sports car wasn’t safe in those conditions. So, she got into ours.” Ethan hesitated before adding, "Her car keys are with me. She said she’d pick it up in a couple of days."

Without opening my eyes, I said, "Bring them to me tomorrow."

There was a pause before Ethan spoke again. "Oh, right, boss—one more thing. Miss Sinclair didn’t take the flowers you sent. She said they were too beautiful and should be left at the restaurant for the next guest to enjoy."

For a brief moment, I was speechless.

The first time I had ever gifted a woman flowers, and she wouldn’t even accept them. She didn’t even bother pretending.

Did my words upset her that much?

Finally, I exhaled, my response clipped. “Got it.” Then, I hung up.

The next day, Ethan handed over Vivienne’s Aston Martin keys to me. Without sparing them a glance, I tossed them into my drawer.