Those long, perfectly sculpted legs were completely exposed, still dotted with water droplets that gleamed under the light.
My throat tightened.
"That's what you're wearing?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Is there a problem?" Vivienne stood in the doorway, arms crossed, voice straining for nonchalance. "You didn't say formal wear. And I've been tortured all day—I'm not putting on anything tight again."
"No problem." My gaze traveled slowly over her, stopping at the wet, increasingly transparent white shirt. "Come in. Close the door."
Vivienne hesitated, then stepped inside and shut the door behind her.
She stopped three feet from the bed, twisting the hem of her shirt nervously, eyes darting everywhere but at me.
"Come here." I patted the spot beside me. "Sit."
"I'm fine standing." Stubborn as always. "You're testing me, right? Let's get started so I can go to bed."
I stared at her for a few seconds, then sighed deliberately. "Looks like you haven't learned the most basic etiquette yet—refusing when your host invites you to sit is extremely rude. My work tonight just got harder."
"You—" Vivienne bit back her retort but eventually walked over stiffly and perched on the edge of the bed, keeping at least two fists' width between us.
"Relax." I turned toward her. "I'm not going to eat you."
"Who knows?" she muttered. "That's not what you said at dinner."
I didn't respond. Just picked up the file from the desk and handed it to her. "These are the key families who'll be at the gala the day after tomorrow. Read through it first. Then I'll quiz you."
Vivienne took the papers and started reading.
I leaned back against the headboard, teacup in hand, pretending to drink while my gazefixed on her.
The white shirt slipped lower as she bent her head, the neckline gaping. From my angle, I had a clear view of the valley disappearing beneath the fabric.
And her damp hair.
Water droplets traced down the strands, landing on her collarbone, then sliding along that elegant curve and vanishing into her shirt.
The white fabric turned transparent where the water touched.
I could see the pale, lace-trimmed bra underneath.
My breathing grew heavier.
"Nikolai?" Vivienne looked up, confused. "Are you listening? I just asked about the Marchetti family and—"
She stopped mid-sentence.
Because she finally noticed where I was looking.
She glanced down at her shirt, then realized what had happened—the damn thing had become nearly see-through thanks to the water.
Her face went scarlet.
"You—you pervert!" She shrieked, instinctively covering her chest with the papers. "You've been staring at my chest!"
"You're the one who came over without drying your hair properly." I maintained perfect innocence, but my eyes didn't move. "Besides, I can't help it. Your body is... visually overwhelming."
"You—"
