The Marriage Clause

Chapter 8

Vivian's POV:

A soft knock sounded at the glass door. Without waiting for my answer, Adrian stepped inside, holding a small plate with a neatly cut gourmet sandwich.

"Whole wheat, grilled chicken, extra greens, and no mayonnaise," he announced, placing it down beside my laptop.

I looked up from my monitor, my gaze lingering on him for a brief second before I reclaimed my usual composure. "I didn't ask for lunch, Mr. Rossi."

"You didn't," he agreed smoothly, leaning one hand on the edge of my desk with that infuriatingly charming smile of his. "But you've been staring at that spreadsheet for three hours straight without taking a single break. It was either a sandwich or I was going to have to pull the fire alarm just to get you to eat something."

A small, reluctant twitch pulled at the corner of my mouth. I fought it down immediately. "If you pulled the fire alarm, I would fire you before the fire brigade even left the station."

"Fair enough," he chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Then eat the sandwich. It's a much safer alternative."

I picked up half of the sandwich, taking a small bite. It was delicious, exactly to my taste. For a fleeting moment, the relentless pressure resting on my shoulders felt a fraction lighter. I was a woman built on control, hardened by years of corporate warfare and betrayal, yet somehow this green-flag, inexperienced assistant had carved out a quiet, comfortable space right beside me.

I set the plate down and picked up a heavy, foil-embossed envelope that had arrived on my desk an hour ago.

"What's that?" Adrian asked, straightening up.

"An invitation," I said, flipping the heavy cardstock between my fingers. "The Annual European Medical Innovation Gala. Tonight at the Dorchester."

"Sounds thrilling," he replied, a hint of sarcasm lacing his tone. "Will there be dried-up speeches and overpriced champagne?"

"Precisely," I said, opening my drawer and pulling out a sleek black credit card. I slid it across the polished oak table toward him. "And you're coming with me."

Adrian blinked, looking down at the black card, then back up at me. "Me?"

"You are my executive assistant, Adrian. Network events are part of your job description. Besides, I need someone capable of holding my folder and keeping the vultures at bay." I held his gaze, my tone leaving no room for argument. "Take the card. Use it to purchase a good suit. I expect you to look the part."

A slow, amused smile spread across his face as he picked up the card. "A tailored suit on the company dime? I think I can handle that, Ms. Matthews."

"Don't get used to it," I warned, though there was no real bite to my words. "Be at my penthouse by seven. Don't be late."

"Sure," he said softly, slipping the card into his pocket with a polite nod before turning toward the door.

...

By six-thirty, I was standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror in my penthouse dressing room, inspecting my reflection.

If I was going into a room full of industry titans and opportunistic investors, I needed to look unbreakable. I had chosen a floor-length emerald green silk gown with a structured cowl neckline and an open back that draped elegantly down my spine. The rich jewel tone complemented my pale skin, while the tailored silhouette gave me a tall, commanding presence. I paired it with minimal but striking jewelry—my mother’s vintage platinum teardrop diamond earrings that caught the light with every subtle movement, and a matching thin diamond bracelet on my left wrist. My dark hair was swept up into a sleek, sophisticated chignon, leaving my neck exposed.

I looked polished. Powerful. Invincible.

Precisely as Victoria Matthews' daughter ought to look.

The intercom chimed at seven o'clock on the dot.

When I opened the front door, the sight caught me slightly off guard. Adrian stood in the hallway, carrying a magnificent bouquet of white orchids and cream roses.

My eyes involuntarily scanned him. The tailored charcoal-black suit fit his tall, broad frame impeccably, accentuating his shoulders and lean waist. A crisp white shirt was buttoned neatly beneath a dark silk tie, and his honey-brown hair was styled back, though a few stubborn strands still threatened to fall over his forehead.

He looked... handsome. Exceptionally handsome. Young, effortlessly charming, and undeniably striking.

"For you, Ms. Matthews," he said, offering the flowers with a warm, gentle smile. "A small thank you for the suit."

I looked from the orchids up to his face, taking the bouquet with a slight nod. "Orchids. My mother's favorite."

"I remembered the photograph on your desk," he replied quietly.

A quiet warmth blossomed in my chest, though I carefully masked it behind a neutral expression. "Thank you, Adrian. They're lovely. Give me a moment to put them in water."

...

The grand ballroom of the Dorchester was a dizzying display of opulence. Crystal chandeliers hung low from the gilded ceiling, casting a warm glow over hundreds of guests dressed in high fashion. The hum of hushed corporate negotiations and clinking crystal glasses filled the air.

From the moment we walked in, Adrian was seamless. He moved like my shadow—always half a step behind me, observant, sharp, and intensely focused.

When Lord Sterling, one of Aurora’s most stubborn investors, cornered me near the bar demanding an update on the Q4 distribution figures, I didn't even have to ask. Before I could speak, Adrian quietly stepped forward, pulling up the exact digital breakdown on his tablet and presenting the condensed summary to Sterling with a polite, confident explanation that left the old man thoroughly impressed.

I glanced at Adrian from the corner of my eye. For a man with no executive experience, he navigated the room with the quiet grace of someone who had been born into this world.

"Impressive," I murmured as we moved away toward the champagne fountain.

"I told you I learn quickly," he replied smoothly, offering me a fresh glass of sparkling water.

Before I could reply, the polite atmosphere shattered.

"Vivian."

The voice was cold, smooth, and sickeningly familiar.

My posture instantly stiffened. I turned slowly to face the man approaching us.

Richard Matthews stood before me, followed by Catherine, who looked ostentatiously dripping in diamonds, and Olivia, who wore a smirk that practically screamed entitlement.

Adrian frowned subtly beside me. "Who is that?" he asked in a low whisper.

"My sperm donor," I replied, my voice dripping with icy disdain.

Richard stepped closer, his eyes lingering on me with a mixture of contempt and fake paternal concern. "I must say, Vivian, you look surprisingly composed for someone running on borrowed time."

Catherine let out a soft, mocking chuckle. "It's tragic, really. Watching you pretend everything is under control when everyone in this room knows Aurora's future is hanging by a thread."

I saw the flash of genuine shock cross Adrian’s face. He looked between Richard and me, visibly stunned by the blatant hostility with which a father was addressing his own daughter.

I met Richard's gaze without flinching, my expression entirely impassive. "I'm used to this, Adrian," I murmured under my breath, ensuring my father heard every word. "Traitors always bark the loudest when they realize they're losing."

Richard's smile tightened, his jaw clenching. "Watch your tongue, Vivian. You have less than two months left on your mother’s absurd deadline. Two months before you fail to fulfill her condition, and the board transfers executive authority of Aurora Life Sciences to me. I can't wait to sit in that chair again."

"Aurora was never yours to begin with," I said evenly, stepping closer to him so only our small group could hear. "It was my mother's."

"I was her husband!" Richard hissed.

"You were the husband who cheated behind her back and left her heartbroken while she built an empire!" My voice landed like a sharp blade. "You have no right to claim her legacy. You are nothing more than a parasite clinging to her ghost."

Olivia gasped, and Catherine’s face went pale with rage. Richard opened his mouth to snap back, but I simply turned my back on them.

"We're done here, Adrian," I said coldly.

As we walked toward the balcony terrace away from the crowd, Adrian kept pace with me, his brows drawn together in deep concern.

"What did he mean by a deadline?" Adrian asked, his tone quiet and serious. "Two months for what?"

I let out a slow, tired breath, looking out over the illuminated gardens below. "My mother left a ridiculous condition in her will regarding her controlling shares. I have to be legally married before I turn twenty-eight, or the company defaults to my father. I have two months left." I paused, looking away. "It's time I started seriously searching for a husband."

Just as the words left my mouth, a tall, suave man in a velvet tuxedo approached us, a confident smile plastered across his face.

"Ms. Matthews," he purred, extending a hand. "Julian Vandy. Vandy Pharmaceuticals. I believe we met briefly at the Zurich summit. May I have the honor of this dance?"

I looked at Julian Vandy. He was wealthy, titled, and influential—exactly the kind of candidate that would look perfect on paper for a marriage of convenience.

"I think he could be it," I muttered under my breath to Adrian, convincing myself to be practical.

I turned to Julian with a forced smile. "I'd be delighted, Mr. Vandy."

We stepped onto the polished dance floor as the orchestra began a slow waltz. Julian pulled me into his arms, but within seconds, a deep wave of discomfort washed over me. He pulled me far too indecently close, his hand sliding down my waist lower than was professional. A heavy, cloying scent of expensive cologne and stale cigar smoke lingered around him, suffocating me.

"You're even more breathtaking up close, Vivian," he whispered into my ear, his breath hot against my neck.

My stomach churned. I detested it. I detested the way he touched me, the way he looked at me like a trophy to be won, and the slick, arrogant tone of his voice. I didn't want him. I could never marry a man like this, no matter how much money he possessed.

My eyes instinctively searched the room, scanning the crowd over Julian's shoulder until they found Adrian standing near the edge of the terrace.

He was engaged in a light conversation with a woman from a partner firm. She said something that made him laugh—that bright, genuine laugh that always seemed to reach his eyes. His smile lit up his entire face, youthful, jovial, and breathtakingly vibrant.

I let out a quiet sigh against my will.

Women could probably lose their panties just from a single smile from him.

Throughout my entire life, no man had ever truly affected me. I had built impenetrable walls around my heart after watching my father betray my mother. I didn't believe in fairy tales. I didn't believe in romance.

Yet, as I stood trapped in the arms of a wealthy billionaire, my gaze remained helplessly fixed on my executive assistant. Adrian was entirely different in every way imaginable. He was warm where others were cold, honest where others were deceitful, and strangely protective of a woman who was supposed to be his boss.

I didn't know what to think of him.

All I knew was that as I danced with another man, Adrian Rossi was the only person I wanted to step onto that floor and save me.