Vivienne looked at him, stunned. Her fingers curled around the pearl necklace resting gently in her palm. The way it shimmered under the light made it look even more expensive. Elegant. Lovely. Something a lady would wear.
But not her. Not anymore.
He had given it to her so casually, so sincerely, like it meant something. Like she meant something.
She stared at the necklace again, then back at André. Her heart beat strangely in her chest. But not from joy. No, this wasn't joy. This was something else. Something heavier.
"I…" she began, her voice barely above a whisper.
He looked at her, hopeful, waiting.
She took a quiet breath and stepped closer. Then she gently placed the necklace back in his hands.
"I'm really grateful for the gift, my lord," she said, calm but firm, "but…"
"But?" he repeated softly, confused.
She looked down, gathering herself. "I don't want it."
His eyes dropped to the necklace in his hands.
She swallowed and continued, "I did admire it, yes. But I don't deserve it. I don't deserve gifts like this. I'm sorry… and I'm grateful. Truly. But I can't accept it."
She bowed her head slightly, as though trying to end the conversation there.
"I'm tired," she added, barely meeting his eyes. "I'd like to rest."
He didn't say a word. He simply stood there, holding the necklace. He looked stunned. Hurt. Like she had just rejected more than a gift. Like she had rejected him.
She watched him slowly nod, as if his body moved before his thoughts could catch up. He turned and walked out of the room quietly, gently shutting the door behind him.
The soft click of the door made the silence louder.
Vivienne turned away from the door and walked to her bed.
"How dare him," she muttered under her breath. "I'm not some poor hopeless maid who has never touched pearls before."
She flopped onto the mattress, turning to her side and pulling the covers over herself. Her voice was a whisper now, full of quiet anger. "I used to wear diamonds. Emeralds. Even sapphires. Pearls? Please. I've seen better."
But she didn't sound convincing. Not even to herself.
Because the truth was, it wasn't the necklace that stung.
It was what he said when he gave it to her. That she deserved beautiful things.
It pierced through her like a blade. Because deep down, she didn't believe she deserved anything beautiful. Not really. Everything she had ever worn, every gem, every trinket, every bit of silk — she had stolen it. Taken it in the dark. Not received it with love or kindness.
So when André said that… when he looked at her like she was worthy of something soft, something pure, something beautiful…
It made her chest ache.
She hugged her pillow tightly, her back to the door, her heart heavy with thoughts she didn't want to feel.
Eventually, her eyes closed, and sleep pulled her into a restless dream.
—
The next morning, the sun peeked through the curtains, but Vivienne wasn't in the mood to admire it.
She sat up in bed, stretching her arms with a tired sigh.
"Well," she mumbled to herself, "at least I didn't get fired."
She rubbed her face and swung her legs off the bed.
"I just need to get that bloody horse," she grumbled, "and then get the hell out of here."
She tied her hair back, straightened her dress, and headed toward André's chambers. She knocked gently on the door.
"Come in," came his voice. It was low. Too low.
Vivienne paused. Something about the way he spoke made her frown. It didn't sound like him.
"Is he sick?" she whispered to herself, then opened the door.
He was sitting by the window, his back slightly hunched, like he hadn't slept. His bed was a mess, as if he had tossed and turned all night. His hair was unbrushed, falling messily over his forehead. His eyes were tired. Sad.
And right next to him, sitting on a table, was the pearl necklace.
Vivienne took a breath, then forced a small smile.
"Good morning, my lord," she said in a sweet tone she had practiced many times before.
He didn't look at her. He didn't smile. He didn't say anything.
She stepped forward. "Is there anything I should do for you? Anything I should get you?"
Still looking out the window, he finally spoke. "I'm fine. You may leave. I'll ask for you if I need you."
She stood there for a second, surprised by how cold and quiet he sounded. But she bowed her head and turned to leave.
Strange, she thought. He didn't seem sick. Just… unhappy.
—
The sun was going down now, and still, he hadn't sent for her.
Vivienne sat on her little stool near her room's fireplace, fidgeting with her sleeves. It was quiet. Too quiet.
"Strange," she mumbled. "He should be boring me to death about some flying balloon or telescope or whatever nonsense he's obsessed with."
But today? Nothing.
He was distant. Cold. Sad.
Then it clicked.
Her eyes widened. She shot up from her seat.
"Oh God," she whispered, "I must've hurt his feelings."
She paced the floor, fingers pressed to her lips. "You idiot," she whispered to herself. "Why do you always have to ruin everything with your stupid pride?"
She stopped walking and rubbed her forehead. "You're supposed to seduce him. Make him fall for you. Not push him away."
She took a deep breath. "You need to fix this. Say something. Apologize."
She straightened her dress and walked to his chambers again. It was dark now. The hallway was quiet.
She knocked softly.
"Come in," he said, just as soft as before.
She stepped in.
He was still sitting by the window, the sky behind him now a deep shade of purple. The necklace still sat beside him, untouched.
"I want to be alone," he said without looking at her.
Vivienne hesitated. Then she stepped forward anyway.
"I came to talk about yesterday," she said gently.
He turned his head, slowly.
"I'm really sorry," she said, her voice soft. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I was being thoughtless. I wasn't trying to be cruel."
He looked at her for a moment. His expression didn't change. Then he spoke.
"I understand," he said. "But please… just leave. I want to be alone."
Her heart sank a little, but she nodded and turned to leave.
But then—
His hand reached out and gently grabbed her wrist.
Vivienne froze.
His fingers weren't tight. They just held her lightly, like he was afraid she would vanish.
She turned around.
He looked up at her.
His eyes were glassy. Sad. Like a child on the edge of tears. Like someone who had held in too much for too long.
"Please," he whispered, "don't leave."
Vivienne's breath caught in her throat.
She was confused. He said to leave, now he was asking her to stay?
"What's your problem?" she thought. "Do you want me to go or not?"
But before she could say anything, he stood up and pulled her into a hug.
Her eyes widened.
His arms wrapped around her gently. He buried his face near her shoulder. His heart was racing. His voice trembled.
"I lied," he whispered.
"I don't want to be friends with you."
Her hands were still by her sides, shocked, confused, unsure.
"I love you," he whispered.
Her heart skipped.
"I think… I think I fell in love with you the first time I saw you. I just didn't know what to do. I didn't want to scare you. I didn't want to burden you. But I can't stop thinking about you, Vivienne."
He held her tighter, his voice shaky.
"I'm sorry. I know it's too soon. I know it's crazy. But I can't help it. I just… I can't stop."
His words spilled out like he'd been holding them in for too long.
"Please, Vivienne. Can you let me love you? That's all I'm asking. You don't have to love me back. Just let me love you."
Vivienne stood still in his arms.
Her mind was racing. Her heart was pounding. But not from love.
From surprise.
From victory.
She didn't move.
She looked ahead, her face calm, but her thoughts… her thoughts were wild.
Wow, she thought. He walked right into my trap.
He must've never kissed a girl before.
Poor thing. He'll cry the day I rob him.
But she didn't say that out loud.
Instead, she smiled a little. Just a little.
If he wanted to be Romeo, then she'd play Juliet.
Only this Juliet wouldn't die.
She'd smile, kiss him sweetly…
And then rob him dry.