The Perfect Heiress

Want To Kiss Her

Chuck's POV

I held Vivienne’s hand as we stepped into the lounge. Conversation faltered—just for a moment—before resuming in hushed whispers and knowing glances.

Businessmen approached, their smiles polished, their words carefully measured. I responded in kind, indulging in small talk with the same practiced ease. Just as I was about to move onto another small talk, I heard it—a soft, fleeting chuckle.

My head swiveled toward her. “What’s so funny?”

Vivienne met my gaze, her lips still curved in the remnants of a smirk, her eyes bright with mischief. She leaned in, “Just watching my friend’s envious expression.” A slow, deliberate pause. “Come on, Chuck, I’m going to introduce you to them. You just have to play along.”

So this was why she had spent ten million to buy my time-just to rub salt into the wounds of a few heiresses desperate for gossip.

She led me toward the champagne tower. Then, with a lazy, knowing smile, she turned toward a group of wide-eyed heiresses and lifted her glass.

“And who said I don’t know how to please Mr. Knight?” Her voice was sweet, syrupy with confidence. Then she tilted her head ever so slightly and purred, “In fact, I think he’s the one spoiling me. Am I right, Chuck?”

I didn’t need to know the full story to recognize the undercurrents running through the air. I smiled, slipping seamlessly into the role she wanted me to play, and answered with the perfect blend of amusement and indulgence.

“Of course, Vivienne,” I murmured. “Nothing but the best for you.”

I slid an arm around Vivienne’s waist, pulling her gently into my embrace.

She didn’t look at me. No, she was too busy watching the way the gathered heiresses stiffened, their masks slipping for the briefest of moments before their social graces rushed to repair the cracks.

A voice cut through the tension. “Vivienne, what is happening here?” A woman approached—poised, but unmistakably irritated.

I knew her, Sophia Hayes, the heiress of Hayes Hotel Empire.

Vivienne winked. “Your minions are just too annoying. I thought I could bring Chuck to silence them. For now.”

Sophia’s gaze swept between us, then settled on my arm still resting on Vivienne’s wrist. “Since when …?”

I didn’t wait for Vivienne to reply. “Miss Hayes, You’re more than welcome to our wedding this year, if you like. I assume you’re friends with Vivienne?”

The moment I said it, the room erupted in murmurs. Congratulations poured in, one after another. But the woman in my arms went stiff.

Vivienne's smile vanished. Under the pretense of needing a moment, she pulled me aside into a quieter hallway.

“What do you mean we’re getting married this year? We never discussed this.”

I frowned. “We’re getting married anyway, aren’t we?”

“You said this year. This year.”

“It’s only July. We still have six months.”

My nonchalance only irritated her further.

“It’s not about the timing—it’s the fact that you never discussed it with me! You almost blew our cover! Chuck, what gives you the right to make decisions for me without my consent?”

My smile faltered. I studied her for a moment before answering. “Your brother told me the date. Vivienne, I thought it was your idea.”

She froze. Her fingers clutched at her chest as if struggling to breathe.

I felt a strange unease settle in my gut. “What’s wrong?”

She pushed my hand away and disappeared into the ladies’ room. And when she finally emerged, her face was composed again, but the smile she offered didn’t reach her eyes. “Sorry. I got too emotional just now.”

I hated seeing her like this—drained, yet forcing an air of poise and dignity. It felt unnatural. “Vivienne, if you think it’s too soon, we can—”

“It’s fine.” She interrupted me, tilting her delicate chin slightly. “This year is fine.”

I wanted to tell her that if she was unhappy, she could just say it.

We were getting married, not negotiating a business deal. There was no need for a battle of wills.

My fingers twitched before I finally extended my hand to her, palm facing up. “Do you still need me?”

As in did she still need me to play the role of her fiancé?

Her eyelashes trembled slightly as she looked at me, then she gave a small nod. But something had changed. The earlier spark—the playful mischief—had drained from her completely.

Now, she just looked exhausted.

Without thinking, I pulled her into my arms.

I wasn’t sure if it would actually comfort her, but she looked so damn tired. And I hated seeing her like that.

She stiffened slightly in my embrace, but she didn’t pull away.

When I finally released her, she exhaled softly, composing herself.

“I need to say goodbye to Sophia, then we can leave,” she murmured, already turning toward her so-called friend.

I didn’t know what Vivienne said, but soon enough, Sophia’s stiff posture eased, and—surprisingly—she smiled.

Interesting.

Even in my entirely male-dominated world, I had heard of the rivalry between these two.

I wouldn’t have been shocked if Vivienne had spent ten million tonight just to ruin Sophia’s party.

But this time, she wasn’t stirring up trouble. It almost looked like Vivienne was… coaxing. Making amends.

Another side of her I hadn’t seen before.

When she returned, she smoothly linked her arm through mine, slipping effortlessly back into the role of an affectionate fiancée.

“What did you say? Miss Hayes looks quite pleased with herself.”

She glanced at me. “I just promised her the front-row center seat at next month’s Sinclair & Co. show in New York.”

Luxury fashion shows were notoriously elitist and hierarchical. Seats were packed closely together, but the distinctions between them were sharp. To sit front-row center meant you were either a major industry authority, a CEO, or the brand’s most valued global ambassador.

Giving that seat to Sophia felt… indulgent, to say the least. No wonder she had been so easily appeased—she didn’t even care that her party had been hijacked.

My tone was layered with meaning. “I thought you hated her.”

Vivienne looked straight ahead. “Mr. Knight, women’s relationships aren’t something men can figure out.”

I smirked. “Of course. Women’s minds are the most unpredictable.”

She chuckled. “Do you even need to guess? I thought plenty of women would just hand you their hearts on a silver platter.”

“If you say so.” I let her have the last word. “It’s just a shame I have no interest in those things.”

Casually, Vivienne threw me another question. “Then, what are you interested in, Chuck?”

“You,” I said lazily.

“……” Vivienne looked both speechless and shocked by my bluntness. “Quit joking, Chuck. I mean for real, what are you interested in?”

“Aside from you? Maybe making money.”

“You’re already very wealthy. If I recall correctly, last year’s Wealth List ranked you at the top with a personal net worth of fifty billion.”

That figure wasn’t entirely accurate. It didn’t account for my family’s multi-billion-dollar empire.

“How do you know my personal net worth so clearly?” I smirked. “The media doesn’t even bother with proper background checks. They just throw out random numbers. If I only had that little, how would I dare to marry you?”

The flirtation sent a flush to Vivienne’s cheeks.

Unfortunately, we had already reached the elevator hall. The moment we stopped, she quickly pulled her hand away. “Thanks for today, Chuck.”

Her voice was soft, but her words felt like a quiet goodbye. As she turned, a faint trace of her scent lingered in the air—something light, elusive, and impossible to forget.

And that’s when it hit me.

I wanted to kiss Vivienne. Right here. Right now.