Merry Misunderstandings

Structural Damage

Vivienne POV

Vivienne woke up with a yawn, her eyes still closed, a soft smile playing on her lips. She felt so utterly relaxed, her body still thrumming with the lingering pleasure of the night before. But when she turned over and let her fingers run over the mattress…her eyes snapped open.

Where were her satin blankets?

Oh no! She was still in Grayson’s room—and the worst part was, he was already gone. Her heart pounded as she sat up, memories of last night crashing into her like waves. The way he’d touched her, claimed her…made her lose control in ways she never had before.

Her gaze darted around the room, hunting for her scattered clothes. Maybe she could sneak out and pretend this whole thing never happened. As she pulled on her blouse and wriggled back into her pencil skirt, her cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment.

She’d completely lost control.

But it had been so good—too good. The best s*x she’d ever had. Grayson was a skilled lover for sure, in tune with her body in a way that felt far too intimate…as if he’d committed every curve, every response, to memory.

Vivienne ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing out the tangles, though there was no fixing her rumpled appearance. This was happening—the dreaded walk of shame.

Never again.

During her walk through the B&B, her heels seemed louder than usual, echoing her guilt and shame. She resolved then and there to stick to work. No more pleasure—especially not with Grayson. This would never happen again.

As she entered the lobby, her stomach dropped when she saw him standing at the front desk. Grayson glanced up, his sharp eyes immediately taking in her wrinkled blouse, her missing blazer, her disheveled hair. His lips curved into one of his signature smirks, equal parts knowing and infuriating.

Vivienne quickly looked away, heat rising to her cheeks. Focus on work. Forget about last night.

Her gaze flickered back toward him just in time to see his smirk falter—just for a moment—his expression darkening into something unreadable. Longing? Regret? Whatever it was, it vanished just as quickly, replaced with practiced indifference.

Before she could bolt, Carmen’s voice rang out behind the desk, sugary sweet but laced with venom.

“Well, well… someone’s doing the walk of shame.”

Vivienne froze. Carmen’s perfectly arched brow lifted as she scanned Vivienne’s wrinkled clothes with clear amusement—and suspicion. Her gaze flicked briefly toward Grayson, then back to Vivienne, a slow, calculating smile spreading across her face.

“Rough night?” Carmen added, her voice dripping with fake concern, though her eyes burned with jealousy.

Grayson’s smirk deepened, though his gaze never left Vivienne, and something about the way he was watching her made her pulse race.

Vivienne lifted her chin, forcing a cool smile despite her pounding heart. “Late night working. Some of us have actual responsibilities.”

She saw Carmen’s eyes narrow, her fingers tightening around the front desk counter—but before she could fire back, Vivienne spun on her heel and strode toward her side of the B&B, ignoring Carmen’s barely-contained fury and Grayson’s heated gaze burning into her back.

But even as she raced the stairs to her room, her pulse refused to calm.

This is a mistake you can’t afford to make again.

The rest of the day moved forward without too much trouble. Sure, Vivienne ran into Grayson a few times…awkward didn’t even begin to describe it. She’d tried to avoid him at all costs, hoping the embarrassment of waking up in his bed would fade with time.

But every time they crossed paths, their eyes met—and lingered. There was something there, something unspoken but electric. She hated that she felt it at all.

The construction was moving along well—except for Declan’s side. She’d sensed from the beginning that he’d be a problem, and her intuition was proving right. At every turn, he seemed to be working against her rather than with her. His progress was slow, his attitude even worse.

After lunch, Vivienne decided to check on the restaurant’s renovations. She knew Declan and his team were still on their break, and she hoped that meant the place would be empty—giving her a chance to assess the damage without dealing with his condescending smirk.

But as she stepped inside, her stomach twisted. Something felt... off.

Her gaze snapped to the far side of the room.

“What the hell is this?” she hissed, blueprints trembling in her grip.

The wall that was supposed to stay intact—the load-bearing wall—was gone. The room was open where it shouldn’t be, exposing beams and wiring in a way that made her blood run cold.

Her pulse quickened as she compared the blueprints to the chaos in front of her. This wasn’t just a minor error—it was a massive, costly mistake.

Footsteps sounded behind her, and she turned sharply, her jaw tightening as Declan sauntered in, wiping his hands on a rag. His smirk was already firmly in place.

“Well, well,” he drawled, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Didn’t expect you to be checking up on me so soon, Princess.”

Vivienne took a steadying breath, rage simmering beneath her skin. She needed to handle this carefully—but she’d be damned if she let him see her sweat.

“Care to explain why you took out a support wall without approval?” she demanded, her voice cold and steady.

Declan shrugged with infuriating nonchalance. “It was in the way. Figured you’d appreciate the extra space. Thought you’d be thanking me.”

Her nails bit into her palm. “Put it back. Now. Before the entire structure collapses.”

He chuckled, taking a slow, deliberate step closer. “Relax, sweetheart. I know what I’m doing.”

Vivienne’s eyes narrowed. “Do you? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re trying to sabotage this project.”

His smirk widened, something dark glinting in his gaze. “Careful, Miss Wood. You might hurt my feelings.”

Vivienne squared her shoulders, stepping into his space, refusing to be intimidated. “Let me make something clear: I’m in charge here too. I may not swing a hammer, but I sign the checks.” Her voice dropped, steely and precise. “And if this isn’t fixed immediately, consider yours canceled.”

Declan’s jaw ticked, his amusement dimming ever so slightly. He folded his arms, radiating challenge. “Grayson won’t like that.”

“I don’t care what Grayson likes,” she hissed. “This is my project too, and I won’t let you run it into the ground because you can’t follow a blueprint.”

He scoffed, turning back toward the exposed wall. “Sure. Someone thinks she can play boss,” he muttered just loud enough for her to hear.

Vivienne’s stomach twisted with anger, but she held her ground. Turning sharply, she snatched up the blueprints and strode toward the office, her heels clicking sharply against the worn wooden floor.

Her fingers tightened around the edges of the rolled-up plans. This wasn’t about needing Grayson’s help—it was about holding him accountable. They were supposed to be partners. If Declan thought she’d roll over, he was about to learn otherwise.

Behind her, Declan’s glare burned a whole in her back.