Prologue ❤️
Vivienne’s POV
The rain had been unrelenting that evening—thick sheets of silver hammering down like the sky was throwing a tantrum.
And of course, Mr. Aaron Alexander Sinclair, CEO of Crown & Sinclair Enterprises and infamously allergic to umbrellas, had insisted on dropping me home himself.
By the time we reached my little duplex—the one with the tiny garden and a neatly trimmed lemon tree out front—he was thoroughly soaked.
His crisp suit clung to him like a second skin, his hair dripping into those annoyingly perfect eyes.
“You’ll catch a cold,” I muttered, unlocking the gate, trying not to stare.
“Not if you invite me in, Cherry,” he said, flashing that infuriating half-smirk that made my brain misfire.
“Don’t call me that, Sir” I snapped, cheeks warm.
“Then don’t blush when I do, Cherry.”
“Sir,” I hissed through my teeth, holding the door open. “Come in before you flood the whole porch.”
Inside, I tossed him a towel and padded off to grab dry clothes.
My brother’s old Iron Man-shirt and joggers would have to do.
When I returned, Aaron was already exploring—eyeing the soft-lit living room with curious amusement, his wet blazer now draped over the back of my favorite floral chair.
“Cute place,” he said, accepting the clothes. “Very... you.”
“That’s not a compliment,” I replied, crossing my arms.
“Didn’t say it was.”
As he disappeared into the bathroom, I exhaled deeply, heart racing in a way that made no logical sense.
It was just my boss. Standing in my house. About to wear my brother’s Iron Man t-shirt.
Totally normal evening.
But the chaos didn’t truly begin until he emerged, toweling his hair, clothes a bit too snug, making him look even more annoying good.
That’s when he suddenly patted his pockets.
“Damn. I can't find my phone.”
“Do you want to go back and check in car?” I offered.
“In this downpour? No thanks. Let me just call it from yours.”
“Uh... I—”
“Come on, Vivienne.” He raised an eyebrow. “What, hiding something?”
“No,” I said too quickly, too defensively.
And because I hesitated, he grinned wider. Dangerous.
“Give it,” he said, holding out his hand like a smug monarch demanding tribute.
Sighing, I handed it over, silently praying the storm would short-circuit all satellites.
But it didn’t.
Because, of course, the moment he dialed his number, his name lit up on my screen:
“Aaron – Because I Said So – Sinclair”
The silence that followed was deafening.
I froze.
He stared at the screen. And then slowly—so slowly—his lips curved.
“‘Because I said so’?” he echoed, his voice full of devilish delight. “That’s what you saved me as? Not just Aaron? Not boss? Not devil-in-disguise?”
“Give it back!” I lunged for the phone, but he spun away, laughing.
“Vivienne ‘Cherry’ Rose, you are never living this down!”
“Stop calling me Cherry!”
“You named me a full sentence!”
He ran toward the couch, holding the phone above his head like a cruel giant as I chased him.
Just as I reached out to grab it, he lost balance, my hand on his shoulder, his arm around my waist—and suddenly—
We tumbled onto the couch, limbs tangled, the phone flying somewhere into a pile of cushions.
And then— A breath. A pause. His face inches from mine. His lips brushing mine.
An accidental kiss. Soft. Stolen. Startling.
I didn’t move. Neither did he.
The rain tapped gently at the window behind us, but inside, time froze.
Then, I quickly pushed myself back up.
His voice, when it came, was quieter. Rougher.
“Cherry...You kissed me because I said so?”
“I will smack you with that throw pillow,” I whispered back, flushed and flustered.
But neither of us spoke after that.
And in that small, rainy, garden-framed house…
Something changed.
