Merry Misunderstandings

Completely Screwed

Vivienne POV

“I can’t wait for the restaurant to be finished. I just hope the manor doesn’t come down in the process,” She sighed, taking a bite of her steak. They were at the diner for their weekly agreed dinner date.

“Yeah,” Grayson admitted, swirling the wine in his glass. “I don’t like admitting when I’m wrong…but hiring Declan was a mistake.”

Vivienne’s brows lifted in mock shock. “Are you feeling alright?” She reached across the table, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead.

“Haha, funny pants,” Grayson muttered, rolling his eyes—but his lips tugged up despite himself.

Vivienne smirked. “So…does that mean Marcus can take over the construction?”

The lightness vanished in an instant. Grayson’s fingers tightened around his glass, his jaw clenching ever so slightly.

“Hmm…Marcus,” he echoed darkly, his voice a shade deeper. “I’m sure he’d love that.”

“Well, he did do a fantastic job in the bedrooms.” Vivienne’s tone was sweetly oblivious—too sweet.

Grayson leaned forward, his darkened gaze locking onto hers. “Good to know you’re so impressed.” His voice was low, dangerous—but edged with something rougher...something possessive. “Though I seem to remember you being very satisfied in the bedrooms. Recently.”

Vivienne’s cheeks burned, but she met his stare head-on. Before she could fire back, Grayson’s phone buzzed, breaking the tension like a snapped wire. He frowned, pulling it out and glancing at the screen.

His entire expression changed—serious, focused. He downed the rest of his wine and pushed back from the table.

“Where are you going?” Vivienne asked, blinking away the lingering heat between them.

“Business. I’ll get the bill,” he said flatly, already turning toward the door.

Vivienne’s eyes narrowed as she watched him leave. What the hell was that? Something about the way he left felt...off.

Vivienne decided to go for a…walk. She happened to be going in the same direction as Grayson, but it was a total coincidence. It was also a coincidence that she got into her car when Grayson did and followed him from a distance.

“Damn it, get out of the way!” Vivienne grumbled, when another car cut her off. She’d noticed over the past few weeks of being in Cedar Hallow that Grayson occasionally disappeared at different times. She’d seen it as a blessing at first—but now…it did something to her insides. Something she didn’t want to admit. Would he have….a lover?

“Oh, get out of my damn way!” She shouted, slamming her hands on her steering wheel. “Now look what you did!” She glared at the car she passed. She’d lost him.

But he couldn’t be that far, right? Vivienne turned into a narrow secluded wooded road and turned on her high beams. She turned down her window in the hope she heard the sound of a car.

“What am I doing?” Vivienne mumbled. Just when she was about to turn back, she heard faint music in the distance. She continued her drive until she stumbled upon a bar. The Shack.

When she got out of the car she heard distant guitar riffs cutting through the quiet woods, the soft thrum of a bass vibrating the ground, faint voices, and laughter mingling with the cool night air.

She paused for a moment. Was this too much? She should just get back in her car. She was stalking Grayson like some psycho. What did it matter if he has a lover? They weren’t together.

The doors opened, and two seemingly drunk women stumbled out of the bar.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe Whiskey Scars is here!” one of them squealed, clutching her friend’s arm.

“The lead singer is so hot,” the other slurred, flipping her hair dramatically.

Vivienne frowned. Whiskey Scars?

“The lead singer?” the first woman gasped. “Have you seen the guitarist? He’s soooo dreamy—with that dark hair and cocky smirk.”

Vivienne’s stomach twisted as realization hit her like a punch to the gut.

Grayson.

The dark hair, the smirk—it couldn’t be anyone else.

Her pulse quickened as the women kept talking, their voices carrying through the still night.

“I heard he’s a total heartbreaker,” one whispered conspiratorially. “Like... girls line up after every show.”

Vivienne’s jaw clenched. Heat prickled her skin—whether from embarrassment or something far more dangerous, she wasn’t sure.

Before she could think better of it, she slammed her car door shut and marched toward the entrance. If Grayson thought he could run off in the middle of dinner, charm the entire female population of Cedar Hollow, and keep this a secret...

He had another thing coming.

She didn’t know what she’d expected to stumble upon. The words guitar and lead singer had registered, sure—but her mind had skipped over them entirely. All she could picture was Grayson surrounded by a harem of swooning women, basking in their attention like the cocky bastard he was.

What she hadn’t expected was this.

The dark, intimate bar thrummed with life, the air thick with the scent of whiskey, leather, and a hint of cigarette smoke lingering. Fairy lights strung across the low ceiling cast a warm glow, barely piercing the shadows where couples swayed in time with the music.

Vivienne shoved her way through the bustling crowd, eyes darting toward the bar—his usual hunting ground, no doubt. But instead of Grayson holding court with eager admirers draped over him, her gaze was drawn—almost unwillingly—to the stage as the crowd erupted into wild cheers.

And there he was.

Grayson Blackwood.

His fingers glided over the strings of a sleek, black electric guitar, every movement fluid, commanding, as though the instrument were an extension of him. His head tipped back slightly, eyes half-lidded with focus—or maybe bliss—as the lead singer’s gritty voice roared through the speakers.

Then Grayson’s voice followed—deep, rough, and ridiculously sexy—melding with the melody like he’d been born for it.

Vivienne froze, her breath hitching in her throat.

What the hell...?

His white dress shirt—the same one from dinner—was now untucked, the sleeves carelessly rolled up to reveal toned forearms flexing with each chord. His tie was gone, instead—his top buttons stood slightly open. His dark hair was tousled, damp from exertion, making him look...

Like a god.

The dim lights highlighted the sharp angles of his face, the intensity in his expression as he lost himself in the music. Gone was the smirking, calculating businessman she thought she knew. This Grayson was untamed—raw, electric, and so much more dangerous.

As the song faded into another, the crowd surged closer to the stage, singing along with infectious energy. Vivienne stood rooted to the spot, heart pounding, utterly captivated.

She should leave—pretend she hadn’t seen this. Seen him like this.

But her feet moved of their own accord, weaving through the mass of bodies until she was near the edge of the stage, eyes locked on Grayson.

Just then, his gaze swept over the crowd—sharp, searching—until it found her.

His fingers faltered for just a fraction of a second, his smirk slipping into something... darker. Something real.

Heat surged through her like lightning, leaving her breathless.

Grayson’s lips tugged into a slow, knowing smirk—the smirk. His gaze never left hers, even as his fingers expertly strummed the next chord, effortlessly dragging her deeper into the rhythm... and into him.

God help her, she was completely screwed.