Merry Misunderstandings

Two can play that game

Vivienne POV

“So, do you think it will work?” Chloe asked, popping a gummy bear in her mouth. Vivienne popped the popsicle out of her mouth.

“It has to. We didn’t work our butts off for nothing.” It was Halloween and the party at Grayson’s end had begun an hour ago. Vivienne had seen the town’s people as well as a few tourists step through the lobby, ready to party into the early morning hours.

She and her employees had worked tirelessly throughout the last few days, turning her event hall and the rest of the B&B into a haunted house. Everything looked perfect. Now all they had to do was wait.

That afternoon, Vivienne and Grayson had handed out candy to the local children. They all looked super cute in their costumes, from beautiful to scary. One baby was even dressed as a pumpkin, causing even Grayson to chuckle. Vivienne hadn’t spoken to him all through the event, but she’d felt his eyes burning on her. It was like he wanted to say something, but Vivienne brushed off every one of his attempts at conversation. She couldn’t show any signs of weakness. Her family already thought she was unfit for the job. She needed to harden up.

Her phone dinged—bringing her out of her thoughts.

The first box is open. Vivienne smiled. It wouldn’t take long now. Vivienne checked the time. It was just past nine in the evening. She estimated the chaos would reach its peak at nine fifteen.

“Everything going according to plan?” Chloe asked, a hint of anxiousness in her tone. Vivienne nodded with a smile. Just a few more minutes, Then everything in the world would be as it should.

With her on top and Grayson—left to pick up the pieces of his perfect night.

“How much longer?” Chloe asked, popping bears into her mouth and chewing loudly, staring at Vivienne.

Three of her male employees had offered to do the dirty job for her. They were stationed in different parts of Grayson’s side, sneaking in with the party goers. It was the perfect set up.

“I think we might hear the first sign of chaos in three….two….” A scream ripped through the wall, followed by another and another. It was like a domino effect. Vivienne’s mouth tugged up into an evil grin. It was showtime.

With confident strides, Vivienne made her way over to the entrance, making sure that no one got away.

When the first people started spilling into the lobby, she held up her hands to quiet them down.

“Lovely people, don’t worry. There are more than plenty of drinks and our special Wood & Vine wine is chilled, waiting for all of you on my—bug free—side of the B&B. If you follow my assistant—also known as the ghost of Woodland Manors—” Vivienne joked, referring to Chloe’s cute ghost costume, “I’m sure you’ll be surprised. Let the party continue!” She shouted, earning her cheers from the crowd.

Vivienne ran a hand through her hair. She’d dressed as—well—herself. She wasn’t really in the holiday spirit. Too much had been riding on this night—her plan—to be distracted by silly things like costumes.

When the last of the guests passed through the lobby, each getting the same reassuring speech from her, Vivienne strolled over to Grayson’s side of the B&B and hung a sign on the door. It explained, with a vague politeness, that due to an unfortunate “infestation problem,” partygoers should continue their fun on her side. She stepped back, eyeing the note with satisfaction.

“Perfect,” she whispered to herself, pride and adrenaline mingling in her veins.

Just then, the door swung open, revealing a distraught Carmen—and, right behind her, a fuming Grayson. Carmen’s costume was as subtle as a neon sign: a tight, short leather dress and cat ears, her cleavage on full display. She put on her best helpless pout.

“Oh no, Grayson, I think one got into my dress,” she whined, leaning forward to ensure he noticed her…assets. But if Carmen hoped to entice him, she failed spectacularly. Grayson didn’t spare her outfit a glance. His gaze was busy sweeping the room, scanning the scattered guests and the newly hung sign, until it landed squarely on Vivienne.

There it was: a moment of raw anger in his eyes, hotter and more intense than any glare she’d seen before. But under that anger, Vivienne thought she caught a flash of something else—conflict, hesitation, maybe even regret. The intensity of his stare sent a chill and a thrill through her in equal measure.

“This was you,” he said quietly, his voice strained but controlled as he held up a glass cup with a scrambling cockroach trapped inside. He didn’t shout or snarl, but the tension in his words was sharp enough to cut.

Vivienne let her lips curve into a slow, mocking smile. Her heart hammered in her chest, but she refused to show any weakness now. “Was it?” she asked, tapping a finger against her lower lip.

Carmen tried again, pressing closer to Grayson’s arm. “Grayson, can you just look—” she started, but he raised a hand, dismissing her without so much as a sidelong glance. His entire focus was on Vivienne, as if the rest of the world had faded into static.

For a heartbeat, neither said a word. The party’s distant music thumped behind them, muffled by walls and doors. Vivienne could still taste the sweetness of victory on her tongue, and in that silence, she swore she saw Grayson struggling to contain more than just anger.

She waited, for whatever he’d say next.

But when he didn’t speak—a torrent of emotions warring behind his eyes— Vivienne gave a lazy, exaggerated yawn. She needed to show that his silence, his intensity, weren’t affecting her. Even if her pulse was hammering beneath her cool façade.

“Well, as much as I’d like to stay here for what ever this is,” she said, waving a hand towards Grayson and Carmen—who was still trying to get his attention—“I have a party to get to.” Vivienne turned away, walking towards the entrance to her side of the B&B before pausing and turning around.

“You both are invited of course,” She smiled, before walking away.

Vivienne entered her party, which was in full swing. Guests danced under the dimmed lights, costumed partygoers were enjoying cocktails and the whole place buzzed with excitement. They’d done a brilliant job turning it into a haunted haven. She should’ve been basking in this success, yet her mind lingered on the way Grayson’s gaze had burned into her.

“Hey there,” Marcus’s voice came from behind her. She turned to find him offering a drink, his smile friendly, even flirtatious. He’d been helpful and reliable these past few days—an ally who’d gladly stepped in when Declan had stolen the restaurant contract out from under her. She owed Marcus a proper thank-you, once she settled things with Grayson.

“Thanks,” Vivienne said, leaning in slightly as she took the glass. The music was loud, forcing them closer just to be heard. She let herself smile at Marcus’s proximity, allowing the warmth of his presence to steady her. It was nice to feel wanted, to have someone who seemed genuinely happy to be around her.

Movement caught her eye. Turning her head, Vivienne spotted Grayson across the room. He’d come after all. Her heart kicked up a notch. Carmen hovered at his side, leaning in, her costume leaving little to the imagination. Vivienne’s jaw tightened as she noted how Carmen pouted and angled herself so that Grayson had a perfect view of her cleavage.

And Grayson—he was looking at her. Not Carmen. Her.

His eyes darkened, the usual smirk making room for a sneer as his eyes flickered between Vivienne and Marcus. She took in the scene, and glared at Carmen, who was now almost pulling down her top. The woman had some nerve.

When Vivienne’s eyes moved back to Grayson’s—a knowing smirk crossed his face. It was something between amused and provocative.

Grayson suddenly turned to Carmen—giving her his full attention—and smiled—one of his charming smiles. Vivienne tried to focus on Marcus, turning her gaze away from the couple, but when she noticed Carmen melting into Grayson—a feeling she didn’t recognize, churned in her stomach.

She clenched her fists, her jaw tightened. Two could play that game.

Vivienne turned fully toward Marcus, smiling as he leaned down to tell her a joke—shouting it in her ear. She responded by swatting playfully at his arm, letting her hand linger a second too long on his sleeve. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Grayson’s posture stiffen, his jaw flex. Carmen tried again to claim his attention, pressing closer, talking animatedly, but Grayson’s focus remained stubbornly split.

Vivienne’s chest tightened with unexpected satisfaction. She didn’t want to care, but the spark of jealousy lighting up Grayson’s eyes was too delicious to ignore. She angled herself toward Marcus, laughing at his joke—not because it was that funny, but because she wanted Grayson to see it. To feel it.

In the flicker of the spotlights, Carmen leaned in closer to Grayson, running a hand down his arm, pretending to be afraid of something—a fake spider, a passing ghostly costume—anything to make him console her. Vivienne caught the moment he finally looked down at Carmen, and slipped an arm around her waist. There it was. A countermove. A challenge accepted.

Vivienne turned back to Marcus when he called her name, but when she glanced back toward Grayson….he was gone, and so was Carmen. She scanned the room frantically looking for them. Where were they? Did Grayson take her…back to his room?

Hot white jealously burned in her chest at the thought.

“Vivienne?” Marcus’s voice cut through the music, and guilt flared up inside her. He’d been nothing but kind, and here she was, using him. But this wasn’t the time for apologies.

“I need to check something,” she said, forcing a smile. Before he could protest, she slipped into the crowd and headed back to the lobby—cursing under her breath every time people stepped in her path. Every moment he wasn’t in her line of sight, was a moment she thought the worst. All kinds of kinky scenes flashed before her.

By the time she reached Grayson’s side of the B&B, she was fuming with anger. Ignoring the roaches skirting over the floor in front of her, Vivienne made her way to the stairs. The layout of Grayson’s B&B was much like her own and she knew—with certainty—that he, too, resided in the attic.

When she reached the top floor, steam was coming out of her ears—or that’s what it felt like at least. Who the hell did Grayson think he was?

Vivienne pounded on his door, using her fist to knock.

Grayson opened the door, a huge smirk on his face. He leaned against the frame, as though he’d been expecting her. Vivienne’s eyes darted past him, scanning the room—empty, pristine, and notably Carmen-free. Then her gaze dropped to his clothes, still perfectly intact, mocking her with their neatness.

“My, my, Vivienne,” he drawled, voice low and amused. “For someone who pretends she doesn’t care, you certainly rushed up here fast. What’s wrong?” He tilted his head, the faintest hint of laughter in his eyes. “Did the thought of me and Carmen tangled in these sheets burn you up inside?”

His gaze roamed her face, taking in her flushed cheeks, the anger sparking in her eyes. He crossed his arms, as if utterly at ease. “Come on then—show me how little I mean to you.”

Vivienne didn’t hesitate. She closed the distance in a heartbeat, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. With one fierce yank, buttons flew in every direction.