Chapter 117: Some Things Come Naturally

Vivienne vividly recalled their first meeting. Derek had made a striking impression—dignified, composed, a man of unwavering principle. He seemed untouched by the chaos of ordinary life, existing on a plane above it all, a celestial being, aloof and untarnished by human desires. Yet this seemingly unattainable man possessed a way with words, his affection dismantling her defenses with ease.

Vivienne prided herself on rationality, but Derek's unwavering pursuit, effortless charm, and piercing gaze consistently yielded her. She closed her eyes, striving for composure. "Is this really your first time being in love?" she finally asked, her voice betraying doubt.

Derek arched a brow, his expression unreadable as his dark eyes studied her. A faint smile played on his lips. "When a man is with the woman he loves, some things just come naturally."

Her breath hitched. Was he hinting at something deeper? Unease surfaced, and she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Why did you show up at the Mitchells' so suddenly?" The unspoken question lingered: Had he seen her fierce, unyielding side?

"I told you—whatever you want to do, just do it. I'll stand by you, no matter what." His voice, deep and steady, carried resolute confidence, a promise and a declaration laced with indulgence and quiet command. No matter what transpired at the Mitchells', he would support her without hesitation.

Vivienne studied him, then chuckled softly. "What if one day I commit a crime? Would you think I'm ungentle, cold, and heartless?"

"You don't need to be gentle," Derek replied instantly. His gaze locked onto hers, unwavering. "I'll protect you from any storm." His dark eyes glowed with a reckless tenderness that could melt the hardest heart.

Vivienne's lashes fluttered; her resolve wavered. No need to be gentle… The thought echoed. Had her surrender to Derek been impulsive recklessness, or the sheer pull of his charm? His response felt like vindication. Derek always seemed to touch the most vulnerable parts of her heart effortlessly.

The shrill buzz of her phone interrupted. She answered. Steve's angry voice erupted. "You just left me behind? What were you thinking?"

"You weren't on my way, were you?" Vivienne replied coolly, glancing at Derek, who remained focused on the road.

Steve took a sharp breath. "Do you know who made that gem?" His tone sharpened. The counterfeiter's mark—details, traces of time—held a signature, like an artist's unintentional habits.

Vivienne's eyes darkened, masking the frost settling there. "You've already figured it out, haven't you?"

"I have," Steve admitted, ending the call abruptly.

Derek glanced at her, curiosity in his eyes. "Are you into antiques?"

Vivienne put away her phone. "My grandfather was. I picked up a thing or two."

Amusement lit Derek's eyes. "I've got a few pieces in my collection. I'll have to show you sometime." The subtle playfulness in his gaze reminded her of a wolf in sheep's clothing—an edge of mischief set her on guard.

As the car stopped at the Sinclair Group entrance, Vivienne unfastened her seatbelt. "This is my stop."

She opened the car door, but before she could exit, Derek leaned over, swift and deliberate, pinning her against the cool glass.