Vivian's POV
The plan had been for her and Amy to go to the bar together, but then her friend had sent her a text, saying that she would be going on ahead. That the big wigs of her law firm were having a drink at that very bar, and she was taking the opportunity to schmooze.
Amy had been very torn up over it. Apologizing profusely, like she actually believed that she was doing something wrong. To set her mind at ease Vivian had actually had to call her.
"It is fine Amy, Bryce and I break up on a regular basis, take your chance to better yourself. I will just enjoy being amongst the crème de la crème, instead of spending the night crying into soupy ice cream,"
Now, after giving the right password(provided by Amy) Vivian was walking into the classy bar on her own.
She was in a flowery dress that showed we
way more cleavage than she was used to. With the dress and her gladiator sandals, Vivian did not fit the place at all. She was yet to see another human being, but even the long corridor, with its tasteful decorations and stone floors that gleamed instead of being cheap wood seemed to be judging her.
This was a place for designer dresses, extravagant jewelry, and shoes that cost more than it took to feed entire families for a year.
If she were there with the hopes of a rich man taking notice of her, Vivian would have been very ashamed of her attire. But since she was there to just have a drink and nothing else, she straightened her shoulders and tried to walk with her head held high.
But at some point the opulence got to her. Instead of just looking straight ahead, she found herself staring open mouthed at some of the decorations that lined the walls. Who on earth just casually hung centuries old paintings on the walls of a bar?! What if she accidentally broke one of the vases that had their display cases carved into the walls, with muted lights highlighting them? In fact even as she walked she was mindful not to drag her feet, scared that she would leave a mark.
How could anyone call this place a bar? It was not meant for drunk people, it was meant for well behaved guests who had never touched a drop of alcohol in their lives.
Everything about the place, just said ''you do not belong here Vivian, leave!'.
But she kept pushing forward, her head no longer raised, instead her eyes were on her feet, staring at her painted toenails. One step at a time, all she had to do was get to where the alcohol was served, find herself a seat in the corner, order a ridiculously overpriced drink, have it and then go.
It would be a very boring evening. But it would be a welcome deviation from the way she normally acted after a break up with Bryce. Bringing a hand to her chest,
she took a steady breath, ignoring the tinge of pain that she felt there. After all that the man had done to her, it was shameful that thoughts of him still made her heartache.
In the next instant however Vivian had no time to worry about the pain in her heart because she was feeling some very real pain in her knees. It seemed that in the brief second
that she'd closed her eyes, she had somehow tripped over her own two feet.
Thankfully she had at least managed to catch herself on what felt like a pillar wrapped in very expensive material.
Eyes still tightly shut, Vivian let out an exhale.
'Please don't let anyone have seen me, please don't let anyone have seen me,' In the next instant she got solid proof that her moment of embarrassment had not gone unnoticed.
The 'pillar' that she was clinging to moved, and she was suddenly very aware of the fact that she was holding on to a muscled leg.
Oh no.
"As lovely as it is to have a woman kneeling before me so early in the night, kindly unhand me madam, I have places to be," Oh, the crisp smooth baritone that gave the gentle command had Vivian finally forcing her eyes open and looking up.
Her mind promptly switching off as she laid eyes upon the most perfect man she'd ever seen.
With eyes so blue they reminded her of the sky on a cloudless day, and dark hair that framed his cheekbones in such a way that it looked as though they could cut glass. The man was gorgeous. Just who was he?
As she watched his eyes flicked lower and for a few seconds they settled on her cleavage. For a moment Vivian held her breath. Then the man looked away and cleared his throat.
"Unhand me please," Oh, cheeks glowing pink she instantly let him go and stood.
"I'm so sorry," She told him apologetically, feeling like a fool. Of course the man had not been checking her out.
Men did not like breasts that were big unless they had been sculpted by a surgeon. Bryce had been keen to remind her of that on a regular basis.
Not wasting any more time with her, the man moved forward, his long legs meaning he disappeared from sight before Vivian could say anymore. More than a little embarrassed, she contemplated turning back and just going home, but then she squared her shoulders.
It was just one drink, what could it hurt? With that in mind she followed after the man and finally entered the bar proper, and once again began feeling like a fish out of water.
***
Having only ever been to regular bars, Vivian had come to think of a bar as a place that smelled like a brewery, vomit, pee, and cigarette smoke. The competing scents somehow coming together in a way that did not immediately make a person sick. But the bar that she was currently in smelled like money.
The air itself oozed power, cigar smoke curling lightly around the smokers. Beautiful women sipping cocktails and playing with their jewelry like it was made of paper. There were people there to have a good time, those who were in meetings, and even some who seemed to be there to drink their sorrows away. She even caught sight of the man she had bumped into over by the bar counter, talking quietly to another beautiful man in a three piece suit.
Taking in all of the people, Vivian could not help but feel intimidated. As different as they all were, one very obvious thread held them together.
They were all filthy rich.
As comfortable as she was in her life. Vivian could never hope to be like them. So she did not try to. She simply got a drink, and went to melt into a comfy armchair towards the back. Letting the smooth jazz playing in the background soothe her.
While enjoying her drink, she caught sight of Amy and gave her a thumbs up. The other woman quickly returning the gesture before turning serious as she faced her bosses, and the row of shots at her table.
With the only person that she knew occupied, Vivian focused on her drink. But as the minutes passed she began to feel eyes on her. Raising her head, she looked around. No one was staring at her. Against her better judgment, her gaze drifted to him- the man that she'd bumped into.
He was still at the counter with man who was most likely his friend. While his companion had his back to the rest of the bar's occupants, the man was facing them. Lowering her lashes, Vivian felt his intense gaze settle on her and she realized that he was the one who had been staring at her all along.
Why did the realization make her feel so hot?
'Don't look, don't look, don't look,' Vivian began chanting to herself.
What she was feeling as a heated gaze was most definitely the man being angry. Had she somehow ruined his pants by gripping them too tight? Was he going to sue her? Oh goodness, how bad did her luck have to be for her to be cheated on, and then be sued in the space of a few hours?
Fanning herself with her hand. She reached for her drink again and took a sip. Steeling herself, she looked up in the direction of the man, only to find that he was once again not looking at her.
Instead his attention was back to his friend, letting out a long breath. Vivian allowed herself to settle properly into her seat and just enjoy being around so much money.
The man had probably forgotten all about what had happened. He was probably only looking because she did not fit in.
With all of the pretty and insanely rich women in the bar, he definitely had better things to focus on.