Christian was already tracking down the remaining three sets. Once he found them, it was game over for Francis fucking Lau.
For the first time that night, I smiled.
The rest of dinner passed without incident. Vivian and her mother carried the conversation, though it took all my willpower not to lose my shit when Cecelia chastised her for wearing the “wrong” makeup shade or when her father overruled her dessert choice the way he had her entree by insisting she try the restaurant’s chocolate tart instead of the cheesecake.
I didn’t know what was worse—her parents’ overbearing attitude or Vivian’s willingness to take it. She would’ve never let me talk to her the way they did.
“Whatever you want to say, say it,” she said when we returned home. She took off her earrings and dropped them in the gold dish on the dresser. “You’ve been silently fuming the entire car ride home.”
I took off my jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair. “Not fuming. Simply wondering how you overcame your lifelong disdain for lamb within the past twenty-four hours.”
Vivian sighed. “It’s one meal. It’s not a big deal. “
“It’s not about the food, Vivian.” Aggravation simmered in my veins. “It’s about the way your parents treat you like you’re a child. It’s about how you turn into a cardboard cutout of yourself whenever you’re around them.” I gestured at her outfit. “This isn’t you. You hate lamb. You’re not a tweed and pearls person. You wouldn’t be caught dead in that outfit on a normal day.”
“Well, it’s not a normal day.” A hint of irritation slipped into her voice. I wasn’t the only one on edge tonight. “Do you think I enjoy having my parents show up at the last minute? Or that I like being criticized for everything I say and wear? Maybe this isn’t what I’d choose to wear if they weren’t here, and maybe I wouldn’t have ordered the lamb if my father hadn’t insisted, but sometimes you have to compromise to keep the peace. They’re here for two days. It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s two days this time, but what about in the future?” I asked, my voice hard. “Every holiday, every visit, for the rest of your life. Tell me it’s not exhausting pretending to be someone you’re not with the two people who should accept you as you are.”
Vivian tensed. “People do that every day. They go to work and show one side of themselves. They go out with friends and show another side. It’s normal.”
“Yeah, except they’re not your colleagues or your fucking friends. They’re your family, and they treat you like shit!” My frustration boiled over into a shout.
“They’re my parents!” Vivian’s voice rose to match mine. “They’re not perfect, but they have my best interests at heart. They sacrificed a lot to give me and my sister the type of life they never had growing up. Even before we were rich, they worked their butts off to make sure we could afford the same clothes and field trips as our classmates so we weren’t left out. So if I have to give up some things temporarily to make them happy, I will.”
“Temporarily, huh? Is that why your father basically sold you both off in exchange for a rung up on the social ladder?”
Vivian’s face paled, and regret slammed into me, hard and fast.
Fuck.
“Viv—”
“No.” She held up a hand. “That was exactly what you meant to say, so don’t take it back.”
My jaw tightened. “I don’t see you as a bargaining chip, but can you honestly tell me your parents feel the same way? I’m not trying to make you feel bad, amore mio, but you don’t have to put up with their bullshit. You’re an adult. You’re beautiful, successful, intelligent, and three times the person either of them will ever be. You have your own money and career. You don’t need them.”
“It’s not about needing them. It’s about family.” Frustration etched lines on Vivian’s face. “We do things differently, okay? Respect for our elders is important. We don’t talk back just because we don’t like what they say.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes elders are full of horseshit, and you need to call them out on it.” I was belaboring the point, but I hated how Vivian turned into a shell of herself around her parents. It was like watching a beautiful, vibrant rose wither before my eyes.
“You can,” she fired back. “You grew up the heir to the Russo empire. Yes, I know it wasn’t all fun and games, but you were still the center of your grandfather’s attention. I had to be perfect just to get an ounce of affection. My grades, my image, everything.”
“That’s my fucking point! You shouldn’t have to be perfect to get your parents’ affection!”
“That’s my point! I do!”
We stared at each other, our chests heaving, our bodies close but our minds light years apart.
Vivian broke eye contact first. “It’s been a long night, and I’m tired,” she said. “But I wish you’d at least try to see where I’m coming from. Your view of the world is not universal. I want a partner, Dante, not someone who’ll berate me because he doesn’t agree with the way I handle my relationship with my own family.”
Remorse blunted the edge of my anger. “Sweetheart…”
“I’m going to take a bath and do some work after. Don’t wait up for me.”
The bathroom door closed with a click behind her.
That night, for the first time since we started dating, we went to bed without kissing the other good night.
CHAPTER 29
Vivian
“Congrats! You had your first fight as a real couple. Let’s toast to that.” Isabella raised her mimosa in the air, her smile totally sincere.
My and Sloane’s glasses remained on the table.
“It’s not something to celebrate, Isa,” I said wryly.
“Of course it is. You wanted the full couple experience. That includes fights, especially over family.” She finished her drink, undeterred by our unwillingness to participate in her toast. “Honestly, couples who don’t fight freak me out. They’re like one broken dish away from snapping. The next thing you know, they’ll be the subjects of a Netflix documentary series titled Love and Murder: The Couple Next Door.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You listen to way too much true crime.”
Isabella, Sloane, and I were eating brunch at a hot new spot in the Bowery. It’d been two days since my fight with Dante, and I was still fuming over it.
Not because he was wrong, but because he was right.
Nothing stung more than the acrid taste of truth.
“It’s research,” Isabella said. “Therefore, it’s work. You can’t blame me for working overtime, can you? Look at Sloane. She’s on her phone even though the world’s best eggs Benedict is sitting untouched in front of her.”
“It’s not untouched. I ate two bites.” Sloane finished whatever she was typing and looked up. “You try enjoying your food when one of your clients posts a social media tirade about their very famous ex-wife and proceeds to get into online arguments with…” She checked her phone again. “User59806 about who should drive their car off a cliff first.”