When Mom wanted Viv to get rid of her stuffed animals as a kid, she’d placed them in a box and set them in a corner in the closet. The act put Viv at ease and showed her that—while they were still close by—she didn’t need them after all. Eventually, Viv allowed Mom to give the box away.
She’d used a similar application with the overflow of emotions that threatened to paralyze her after the breakup. Viv had visualized cramming the unwanted feelings into a lockbox, securing it nice and tight, and pushing it to an outer edge of her heart.
Only Viv hadn’t gotten rid of Duke’s box quite yet. It was still there, a safe distance from the central matters of her heart, sealed shut and locked tight.
“You’ve never seen the rainforest, have you?” Mom asked.
The question pulled Viv from her musings. “No, not yet.”
“I can’t believe you get to travel for your job,” Mom continued. “You’ve been to New York multiple times. And Texas when they shot on that cattle ranch for the football player…”
Viv nodded. “And France for Jeanine Labelle,” she added, recalling the misunderstood model. They’d been in a hurry for that one. “Sadly, we had to go from the airport to an eight-hour shoot outside the famous tower, then back to catch our flight out.”
“Yeah,” her mom said. “I remember that. The twins were—what, maybe five?”
Viv nodded. “Sounds about right.”
“We took them to see the rodeo that time,” Mom said. “Your dad bought them cowboy hats.”
She smiled at the fond recollection, but all too soon, her mind drifted back to today’s destination. This trip really would be different from the rest. Five full days in Duke’s multi-million-dollar vacation home on a private island in Costa Rica.
Riley Shay said she wanted Viv to get a good taste of what a vacation for Duke might actually look like. Was he the sort who’d fill his spare time with work and tell Viv she could do the same? Or was he the type who’d—despite his countless demands—make time for fun while he was away?
Viv had only just hugged Dante and Diego goodbye less than an hour ago, but as she neared the private part of the airport, her mom let them holler one last goodbye before ending the call, leaving Viv with her thoughts once more.
She’d spent the last week mentally preparing herself for the interview with her ex. It was different from her routine preparation—it’d had to be. Prior to coming face-to-face with him in the greenroom last week, Viv had steered decidedly clear of the famous billionaire bachelor. Call it natural preservation if you will.
Was she supposed to let down her guard all in one day? Invite him back into her heart and head? And even if she decided to only let him back into her head—she couldn’t avoid it, after all—who really held the key to the box in her heart?
Viv’s approach to the project had been one of great and purposeful design—sort of like immunity by exposure: gradually increased doses leading up to the days she would, inevitably, spend with him.
It was her job to research her subjects before the interview, after all. A process she started by reading the online stories, articles or posts with the most traffic.
On day one, she spent one hour reading what in-your-face tabloids had to say about him. Just one hour. And even still, she’d dreamt about Duke that evening. A disjointed dream where he showed up on her doorstep selling framed photos of himself. She’d told him no thank you.
On day two, Viv doubled that time, sticking with the tabloids again—they were most read after all—reading the ones dating further back in his career. He appeared in her dream that night too, showing up as her waiter at Bizoli’s Deli and Pub. Dante and Diego were there too, and in that dream, Duke hit it off with them—an act that made her mama heart melt even after she woke.
And so it went until she’d subjected herself to a full, seven-hour research binge that felt a whole lot like stalking by the time she was done. She’d been in love with him once, after all, and she was dreaming about him now too.
Fortunately, the dreams hadn’t carried into the subsequent nights, but to her annoyance, Viv had begun thinking about him enough in the waking hours to make up for that. Still, at this point, Viv couldn’t make heads or tails of what she’d read about Duke.
Sure, he appeared to be a reckless playboy with a taste for the nightlife and very beautiful women, but there hadn’t been a whole lot to support the image. Not when she divided the amount of photos she’d found with the number of years they spanned.
Perhaps what his PR said about him was true.
Viv followed the long road onto a large tarmac as the sight of the private jet came into clear view. It was a rather attractive aircraft. Sleek, bold, and intimidating, just like the owner himself. Another round of flutters stirred low in her belly.
A man in sunglasses greeted her a few dozen feet from the jet. Viv rolled down the window as she approached.
“Ms. Tripoli?” the gentleman said.
“That’s me.” She propped her own sunglasses on the top of her head.
“Please, park the vehicle and we’ll get your things loaded onto the jet.”
She wasn’t sure who we meant until another man stepped out of the nearby parking garage.
“Conrad will take good care of your vehicle,” the man added.
Viv tried to ignore the odd sense of embarrassment she felt at the royal treatment. At least there wasn’t a red carpet leading up to the entrance.
“My name’s Bruce,” he said as Viv popped the trunk.
“Hi, Bruce. I’m Viv,” she said, shaking the hand he offered.
“Mr. Benton has already arrived. Your flight should take off in approximately ten minutes.”
“Sounds good to me. Thank you.”
Bruce gave life to that whole built-like-an-ox thing—a look Viv had never been drawn to. She preferred a leaner, muscular build. Tall and toned.
Just as the thought occurred to her, Duke Benton appeared at the top of the stairs, a picture definition of that very thing. If he was wearing a full-on suit earlier, he’d removed the sports coat and was now down to the navy slacks and a crisp white shirt. One that accented the muscular shape of his broad chest.
Luckily, she’d learned to see far beyond appearances. But even still, her face flushed with a wave of heat at the sight of him. At the nearness too.
She dropped her gaze to the grip she had on her handbag and prepped herself to lock eyes with him through a shaky breath. Just why did her heart have to pound out such a frantic rhythm? Viv had no desire to be so affected by the man from her past. It hardly seemed fair after what he’d done.
He’s just a guy like anyone else, Viv. Get over it.
Yes. She would. She’d view him as she did any of her subjects. With interest, kindness, and only traces of intimidation over the status they’d earned.
Besides, Duke was the one who should be intimidated. With that, Viv lifted her chin and settled her gaze directly on the face of her new subject.
Another flash of heat filled her cheeks, only this time she didn’t look away. She studied him the way she might any of her interviewees.
His strong, angular jaw was accented by hints of a five o’clock shadow. A furrow creased his handsome brow as he squinted against the sun, giving him that brooding appearance the Benton twins were famous for. Of course, Duke’s was always more of a smolder. One aimed right at her in the moment. And though she tried very hard to avoid it, those blue piercing eyes sparked trails of heat low in her tummy.