Chapter 8:The Champagne Performance
1636 Words
Sienna
The sixth floor of Casa Cruz had been entirely cleared for our families. It was a sea of Brazilian cherry wood, Keith Haring paintings, and more old money than a Swiss bank.
I was currently leaning into Julian’s side, my hand resting delicately on his forearm as we navigated the buffet. I was wearing a cream-colored Sterling knit that screamed "Happy New Wife," and I was smiling so much my face muscles were starting to twitch.
"Darling," I cooed, reaching up to adjust his silk tie. "You have to try the lobster frittata. It’s almost as rich as your ego."
Julian didn't miss a beat. He draped an arm around my waist, pulling me flush against his side. "Only if you have some too, sweetheart. I wouldn't want you to lose that... glow... you’ve had since our wedding night."
I felt the heat rise to my neck—not from romance, but from pure, unadulterated fury. He was playing the part perfectly. Across the room, I saw Grandmother Sterling nodding at Julian’s Grandfather. They were practically picking out the colors for the nursery.
"You're pushing it, Vane," I hissed under my breath as we sat down at the long mahogany table.
"I’m just following your lead, Sterling," he whispered back, his breath tickling my ear. "You wanted the 'Wifey' role? I’m just giving the audience what they paid for."
As the waiters began serving the dessert courses, Julian decided to add some salt to the injury—or in this case, some chocolate. He picked up a small silver spoon of dark chocolate mousse and held it to my lips.
"A little something sweet for the woman who made my morning so... unforgettable," he said loudly enough for Aunt Beatrice to let out a delighted squeal.
I looked at the spoon. I looked at the cousins, especially Leo, who was currently recording us under the table with a grin that could rival a shark's. If I refused, I looked like a liar.
I leaned forward, accepting the spoon, and as I swallowed the rich cream, I brought my heel down directly onto the bridge of Julian’s expensive Italian loafer.
I didn't just step; I ground my heel in.
Julian’s eyes widened for a split second, a small hiss of air escaping his teeth, but his smile didn't falter. He was a professional.
"Delicious, isn't it?" he choked out, his grip on my waist tightening.
"Positively divine," I chirped, my eyes gleaming with witchy delight.
But Julian Vane didn't just take a hit; he returned fire. Before I could pull away, he dropped the spoon, reached out, and cupped my jaw with his palm. His hand was warm, firm, and entirely too confident.
"I think you have a bit of chocolate right... here," he murmured.
Before I could process the lie, he leaned in and kissed me.
It wasn't a quick peck. It was a slow, deliberate, and devastatingly passionate kiss right in front of the entire Sterling and Vane lineage. For a second, the room vanished. The sound of clinking silver disappeared. There was only the scent of his cologne and the maddeningly soft pressure of his lips against mine.
"Oh, my!" Grandmother Vane whispered, clutching her pearls. "Such passion! It’s like a movie!"
When he finally pulled back, he didn't let go of my jaw. He looked me dead in the eyes, his own sparking with a mix of triumph and something much more dangerous.
"Better?" he asked, his voice a husky challenge.
Inside, I was fuming. I wanted to scream, I wanted to throw my mimosa in his face, and I wanted to run for the exit. But with thirty pairs of eyes watching us with "Proud Parent" expressions, I had to stay in character.
"Much better," I lied, my heart racing so fast I was sure he could feel it through my ribs.
I reached for my water, my hand trembling just a fraction. Julian Vane had just raised the stakes. He didn't just want to win the war; he wanted to win the room. And as Leo’s phone flashed from the corner, I knew this kiss was going to be the headline of the family group chat before the check even arrived.
Julian
I considered myself a man of titanium self-control. I had negotiated billion-dollar deals while staring down the most ruthless developers in the city without blinking. But when Sienna walked into the penthouse that morning for brunch, I almost forgot how to breathe.
She was wearing a cream-colored knit that looked like it had been poured onto her body. It was "innocent" the way a shark is "just a fish." It was soft, elegant, and so tight I could practically see her heartbeat.
I stood by the elevator, my coffee forgotten, practically salivating like a teenager. Focus, Vane, I snapped at myself. It’s just fabric. Very, very expensive, well-tailored fabric.
"Ready, darling?" she chirped, tucking her arm into mine.
"Ready to get this over with," I muttered, but my body wasn't listening. My pulse was already betraying me.
At the Table...
The performance was going well. She was being "Wifey of the Year," and I was playing the doting husband. But then, she decided to test the limits.
As I held out that spoon of chocolate mousse, I felt a sudden, sharp, agonizing pressure on the bridge of my foot. It wasn't a tap. It wasn't a "be quiet" nudge. It was a full-force, targeted strike.
What the hell? I thought, my vision blurring for a second as I fought to keep the smile on my face. Does this girl do leg workouts with Hulk? Did she train with a professional wrestler before getting dressed?
My little toe felt like it had been flattened into a pancake. I felt the sweat break out on my neck, but I kept the "loving husband" grin plastered on my face even as I ground my teeth together. I had to hit back. I had to do something so shocking she’d forget she even had feet.
So, I kissed her.
I didn't plan it. It was a reflex—a tactical nuke to end the conversation. But the second my lips touched hers, I realized I’d made a catastrophic error in judgment.
She tasted like champagne,chocolate and she smelled so good. She was soft, warm, and for a terrifying second, she actually leaned into it. My brain went into a complete tailspin.
Bad decision. Very bad decision, a voice screamed in the back of my head.
I knew right then that my nights were over. This kiss wasn't going to go away. It was going to haunt my dreams, replaying on a loop every time I closed my eyes. And with what she’d been wearing lately... my subconscious didn't stand a chance. It was going to be a total nightmare. Or a total wet dream. Either way, I was doomed.
Keep it together, man, I told myself as I finally pulled back, my heart thumping against my ribs like a sledgehammer. Focus on the boobs—no! I mean, focus on the food! The food! Look at the lobster. Think about the lobster.There is nothing better than boobs..lobster..lobster.
I reached for my water, my hand noticeably less steady than it had been ten minutes ago. I looked over at Sienna, who was currently "smiling" at her grandmother, though her eyes were narrowed at me like she wanted to finish the job she’d started on my foot.
I had won the room. The families were cheering. But as I sat there, trying to remember how to use a fork, I realized I had just handed Sienna a weapon I wasn't sure I could defend against.
Sienna
"You okay there, Julian?" Leo asked, leaning over with his phone. "You’re staring at that lobster tail like you’re trying to negotiate a merger with it."
Julian snapped out of his trance, his hand tightening around his water glass. "It’s... a very well-prepared crustacean, Leo. Mind your business."
I leaned in, brushing my shoulder against Julian’s, feeling the way his entire body went rigid. "He’s just overwhelmed with emotion, Leo. Right, darling?"
Julian looked at me, his eyes dark with a mixture of hunger and a promise of future revenge. "Overwhelmed doesn't even begin to cover it, Sienna."
As we stood up to leave, the Grandparents surrounded us, showering us with hugs and demands for a "proper family dinner" next week. I played the part until the very last second, waving gracefully as the elevator doors closed us in.
The second the doors hissed shut and we were alone, the "Happy Wife" mask didn't just slip—it fell off and shattered.
I stepped away from him, checking my heel for any chocolate mousse. "If you ever kiss me like that again, Vane, I’ll make sure the next thing you taste is the floor of this elevator."
Julian leaned back against the mirrored wall, his tie undone, looking like a man who had just survived a war zone. "You started it, Sterling. You wanted a performance? I gave you an Oscar-worthy one. Besides..."
He looked me up and down, a slow, wicked smirk returning to his face. "I think you liked the lobster. And we both know I’m not talking about the food."
I gasped, my face heating up as I turned to the doors. "I hate you."
"Liar," he whispered as the doors opened to the lobby.
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