Vincent

I arrived at the restaurant first and sat there alone. A single candle flickered in the center of the table, and a bottle of my favorite wine was there. My glass had been poured, but I didn’t drink from it because it felt rude to start without her.

I never offered to pick up Scarlet because that felt too intimate.

Like it was a date.

I wasn’t sure what this was. Up until that point, I hadn’t been really thinking about my actions that much. I was just doing things…doing things that I wanted to do. I knew I enjoyed Scarlet’s company so I kept requesting more of her time even though I had no idea where it would go.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted it to go anywhere.

It was easy for me to bed women like Alessia because I knew it was meaningless. It wasn’t like I loved any of the women who came after Isabella. They were warm bodies in my sheets, beautiful women to satisfy my physical needs. I was a sexual man, even at my age in life. But I didn’t feel ashamed for those necessities.

No one judged me for that.

But to actually care about someone…that was different.

I hadn’t done more than shake Scarlet’s hand, but I felt like I’d already touched her everywhere.

It felt wrong.

It felt right.

I didn’t notice her approach because I was too busy wrestling with my own guilt. I wanted to justify what I was doing, but there was no excuse to mask what was really happening.

I liked Scarlet.

I rose to my feet just as she reached the table. She was in a sweetheart-top black dress that was tight around her waist. It stopped just above her knee, and her black pumps gave her a few extra inches. Her hair was pulled back, revealing the beautiful skin of her neck and chest. She looked beautiful in a classic way, but she also looked stunning in other ways…

In ways that made me wonder how that olive skin would look against my sheets.

I’d been attracted to other women before, even strongly.

But my attraction to Scarlet was much more intense—in a lot of ways. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you.” She wore earrings dangling from her lobes, and they caught the light every time she shifted slightly. “You look nice too.”

I pulled out the chair for her then moved to the other side of the table. I didn’t even touch her waist or greet her with a hug. I avoided touching her at all costs, like she was fire and my fingers might get burned.

“Wine?” I held up the bottle.

“Please.”

I poured her a glass then set the bottle on the other side of the table. There was already a basket of bread, but I hadn’t touched anything because it would have been rude. But then again, I didn’t eat bread so it wouldn’t have mattered.

She placed her clutch at the edge of the table then picked up the menu. “I haven’t been here before, but I hear good things.”

“I’ve had a few meetings here. The food is great, and the service is quick.”

Her eyes browsed the selections. “Any recommendations?”

“The duck is exquisite. But the tenderloin is also good. If you’re looking for something on the healthier side, they have a great vegan option. I’ve had that for lunch a few times.”

She smiled as she kept looking. “Well, I’m not looking for anything healthy. When I go out to dinner, I make the most out of it.” She chuckled and didn’t lift up her gaze.

I was glad she didn’t because I got to enjoy the view of her. She’d just had her nails done, a classy French tip look. Her eye makeup was different, but I couldn’t explain how. I loved the way she enjoyed herself rather than starved herself. Alessia always got a salad and an ice water. She didn’t even drink wine most of the time because of the sugar and calories.

Made our dates a little boring.

“Then what are you getting?”

“Carbs.”

I almost chuckled.

“I’m getting the pasta.” She finally shut the menu. “What about you?”

“I don’t want to say.”

“Why not?” She wrapped her fingers around the stem of the wine glass.

“I guess I don’t make the most out of dinners like you do.”

Her smile hadn’t faded away. “Please don’t tell me you’re getting a salad.”

I shrugged in guilt.

“Come on, live a little.” She took a drink, her lipstick immediately sticking to the glass.

“I’ve noticed it’s harder to keep my appearance up as I’ve aged.”

“I know that all too well,” she said. “Especially after I had my daughter. But sometimes, you just have to stop caring.”

I’d always been fit since I was in my twenties. Physical exercise and diet had become an essential part of my routine. Since I didn’t have a wife to cook for me, it was easy to stick to a clean diet. I wouldn’t land women like Alessia if I didn’t keep a strong figure. “It’s hard for me not to care.”

“Because you’re one of the sexiest bachelors in the city? Or the country, for that matter?”

I didn’t view myself in that light, but I was flattered she did. “You think that?”

She laughed like my question was absurd. “You’re a very good-looking man, Vincent. You brush your teeth in the mirror every day…you must know this.”

I was aware of my charms, but I was happy she was aware of them too. “I’m flattered.”

“You shouldn’t be. It’s the truth.”

The waiter arrived and took our order.

I let Scarlet go first.

“I’ll take the pasta—extra cheese.” She handed the menu over.

The corner of my mouth rose in a smile.

“And you, Mr. Hunt?” the waiter asked, recognizing me like most other people.

Scarlet sipped her wine as she watched me.

I handed the menu over. “Give me the same thing—just not the extra cheese.”

“Very good, sir.” He walked away.

Scarlet was grinning from ear to ear. “Now, that’s more like it.”

---

When we finished dinner, we left the restaurant and reached the sidewalk. My driver immediately pulled up in my car and parked at the curb, aware of my movements at all times. I texted him two minutes ahead of time, and he was always at the right spot by the time I needed him.

“Thank you for dinner.” Scarlet held her clutch in her hand and walked slowly beside me, her heels clapping against the concrete. “I hope you don’t regret skipping the salad.”

“Not even a little bit.” It was okay to cheat once in a while.

“Good. I definitely don’t regret it.” She rubbed her flat stomach and stopped in front of my car.

“Can I give you a ride home?”

“Yes, thank you.” I opened the back door for her and helped her inside. Then I sat beside her and closed the divider between the driver and us. Scarlet gave him the address over the speaker, and then we were moving through the streets.

I hadn’t put up the divider because I planned on doing anything inappropriate. I just wanted some privacy. I wanted to be able to talk to her without someone listening in. Ironically, we didn’t say anything on the trip to her apartment. I’d dropped her off before but had never been inside the building. She lived in a good part of town. It wasn’t anything like where Diesel and I lived, but it was definitely nice.

My driver pulled up to the curb, and I got out first. I gave her my hand so she could use it for balance as she slid her beautiful legs out of the car. She stepped on the sidewalk then held herself perfectly straight.

I shut the back door and walked her to the front door of her building. “I had a great time tonight.”

“Me too.”

I opened the door and held it open so she could walk inside.

But she didn’t cross the threshold. “I always have a nice time with you, Vincent. You’re very easy to talk to.”

“Thanks. I think the same about you.”

Her eyes shifted back and forth slightly as she looked at me, the green color of her eyes reflecting the fluorescent lights from inside the building. A few strands of her hair came loose, floating in the slight breeze that billowed through the city. As the silence passed, it didn’t seem like she was going to walk inside. It seemed like she wanted to stay out there with me…in the cold.

Then she leaned into me, rising on the tips of her toes, and pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth.

I closed my eyes when I felt her warm lips, felt the softness I’d been thinking about for a week. My hand stayed on the door, and I kissed her back, my movements just as slow as hers. She kissed me like she didn’t know what would happen once she touched me. I kissed her with the same hesitance, like I crossed an invisible line I’d never crossed before.

She pulled away, her eyes lidded with the spark that erupted between our mouths. “Would you like to come up?”

The question stunned me even when it shouldn’t. I’d been going out of my way to see her for weeks now without actually asking her on a date. I called her assistant just to figure out how she preferred her coffee. I willingly told her things I wouldn’t have told another reporter. It was obvious how I felt about this woman—and now it was obvious to her.

I didn’t know if this invitation was just for coffee after dinner, but I suspected that wasn’t the case. As enticing as it was to finish that kiss we just had, something held me back. It was fear, guilt, and a lot of other things. “I would love to…but I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“Oh…” She couldn’t mask her disappointment. The embarrassment formed in her eyes, the rejection stinging her.

I didn’t want to make her feel bad, but I couldn’t go up there. There was too much guilt in my chest, too much pain. “Good night, Scarlet.” I leaned and kissed her on the cheek. Then I turned away and headed back to the car without looking back.

I got into the back seat and told my driver to immediately pull away. That way I wouldn’t have to see if she was still standing there. The darkness of the back seat surrounded me, and the classical music overhead blocked out some of my thoughts—but not all.

All I could think about was the empty penthouse I was about to return to.

I didn’t want to be there.

I wanted to be in Scarlet’s apartment.

But the guilt kept me away.

---

Tatum moved into my arms and gave me a strong squeeze.

I hugged her back, immediately smiling at the affection she just gave me. It was the best I’d ever seen her, the most I’d seen her move. She hugged me hard like there wasn’t anything restraining her anymore.

“You look great,” I said into her hair.

“I feel great.” She pulled away then rubbed her hand across the left side of her chest. “My stitches were finally removed.”

“That’s great, Tatum. I’m very happy to hear that.”

Like a pregnant woman, she had a wonderful glow to her. Her happiness was rising as her health returned. She’d made an extraordinary recovery, and the worst had passed. “Does that mean you’ll be joining us at work? Kyle and I have made a lot of progress together. Products are already on their way to distribution.”

“No.” Diesel interfered, like always. “She’s not going back just yet, but soon.” He was in dark jeans and a t-shirt, obviously taking the day off to be with her.

Tatum didn’t hide her annoyed expression just because I was there. “Hopefully, very soon…”

“You have to do it right, baby,” Diesel said. “You’ve come this far. Don’t take a shortcut now.”

She rolled her eyes and walked away. “You’ve made your point very clear.”

Diesel turned back to me. “She’s feeling better, but she’s more restless.”

“Would you like something to drink?” Tatum called from the kitchen.

“No, I’m okay,” I answered. “But thank you.”

Diesel walked me to the couch. “How’s it going, Dad?”

“Good. I’m glad to see things are going well with you.”

“They’re alright.” He sat on the other couch. “Tatum and I are having some arguments about the wedding.”

Every couple had their preferences, and there was bound to be clashing. Isabella and I went through the same. “You want my advice, son?”

“I didn’t ask for it.”

“Well, I’m going to give it to you anyway, smartass,” I snapped. “Just give her whatever she wants.”

Diesel released a fake chuckle and shook his head. “Normally, I would. But not this time.”

Tatum joined us and set a glass of water in front of me even though I’d rejected her offer. She sat beside Diesel and crossed her legs.

Diesel kept his gaze on me. “But maybe you can give her some advice. Titan doesn’t want to take my last name when we get married.”

Any disagreements about their marriage shouldn’t involve me, but I did chime in once. “A lot of women don’t change their name nowadays.”

“Yes, but when they have children, it makes things complicated,” Diesel said. “And Titan wants our children to have her last name or have a hyphen, which just isn’t going to work. We’ve talked about it a few times, but she won’t budge.”

I understood a woman like Titan prided herself on her independence, and since people referred to her as Titan all the time, she would be completely changing her identity. She was a person who needed control in her life. Changing her name would put her under someone else’s control, in a way. “Diesel, you know this isn’t any of my business.”

Diesel sighed in disappointment.

“Thank you, Vincent,” Tatum said. “Diesel hasn’t been very understanding about the matter.”

“With all due respect,” he said to her. “My kids will have my last name. I’m not letting you call them Titan-Hunt.”

I didn’t want my grandkids to have a different last name from me either, but I still held my silence. I shouldn’t even be listening to this conversation. “Your mom and I didn’t agree on everything. I found the secret to a happy marriage is compromise. Meet halfway. Or have one person compromise on this and the other person compromise on something else later.”

“Kinda hard to compromise on this,” Diesel said quietly.

“I’m sure the two of you will figure it out.” I wanted to stay, but judging by the tension between them, I should leave. “I should get going. I’ve got a few things to take care of at the office.”

Tatum walked me to the door, leaving her sour look behind on the couch with Diesel. “I’m sorry Diesel put you in an awkward position. He’s just angry with me right now.” She reached the elevator then hit the button.

“I understand,” I said. “Just keep in mind why he feels that way.”

She hugged me then pulled away. “What do you mean?”

“When a man takes a wife, she belongs to him. It’s a possessive type of thing. He wants to take care of you for the rest of your life, so he wants you to wear his last name…so everyone will know you’re his.” The doors opened, and I stepped inside. “I felt the exact same way when I got married. Consider it romantic.”

---

Five days passed, and I didn’t reach out to Scarlet.

She didn’t contact me either.

The last night I saw her didn’t end well. I knew rejecting her offer hurt her. She made the first move and kissed me, then she took it a step further. The problem wasn’t the kiss…I enjoyed the kiss.

But I wished she’d let me make the move when I was ready.

Even though I didn’t know if I would ever be ready.

I wasn’t avoiding her. I knew I had to talk to her eventually because of the article she wrote. That conversation could go in either direction. She might be cold and distant to me, unable to forgive the way I hurt her. Or she might pretend it never happened and let the tension grow between us.

I didn’t know what to expect.

I was sitting in my office when my assistant spoke through the intercom. “I have Scarlet Blackwood here to see you.”

I knew I didn’t have an appointment with her, and I didn’t need to double-check. “Send her in.”

A moment later, Scarlet walked inside my office. She was in a black pencil skirt with a white blouse, looking thin and beautiful. She held two large manila envelopes in her hand, and her usual smile was absent. Her happiness didn’t fill the room like it usually did. She wasn’t intimidated by me, but she also didn’t seem thrilled to be there. “Hello, Vincent.” Clipped and cold, her tone suggested this conversation was entirely business.

I rose to my feet. “Hey, Scarlet.”

She stopped in front of my desk and held up the two folders. “I wanted to drop these off.”

One must be the photographs, and the other must be the article. “That was kind of you.”

She set them on the surface of my desk and pressed her finger against once. “This is the article I’m going to publish. I did as you asked and excluded all topics you didn’t want to discuss. I’m going to publish as it is in forty-eight hours unless you tell me otherwise.” She pushed the other envelope toward me. “This isn’t the version I’m publishing…but this is the version I wanted to write. This is what I really think…how I really feel.” She held my gaze for several heartbeats before she pulled her hand away. “If I don’t hear from you…take care.” She turned around and left my office, gliding across the floor with the elegance of a queen.

I had a meeting in fifteen minutes, but that no longer seemed important. All I cared about was the envelope sitting on my desk, the article she penned with such honesty. I wanted to know what it said, and I wanted to discover why she wrote it in the first place.

I sat down and pulled it out. Then I began to read.

---

Vincent Hunt: They Don’t Make Men Like This Anymore.

By: Scarlet Blackwood, Editor In Chief

---

When Vincent Hunt agreed to do an article with Platform, I only cared about how much our readers would love to know more about this enigma. Quiet and mysterious, Vincent Hunt is a man who stays out of the spotlight as much as possible. Unfortunately, that makes him more interesting—the last thing he wants. Within our first conversation, I realized I’d been mining for gold but uncovered royal treasure instead.

Vincent Hunt is an extraordinary man.

Despite his billions, he never mentioned his wealth once. His romantic connections with the biggest supermodels of the world weren’t mentioned either. A man of very few words, he said more with his coffee-colored eyes than that chiseled jaw of his. In his mid-fifties, he makes men in their twenties look out of shape. Full of gentle kindness and chivalric masculinity, Vincent Hunt is a man far above the rest.

He told me about his complicated relationship with his family, and instead of seeing a defensive and proud man argue his opinion, I saw a father profess his love for all three of his sons. It didn’t matter what was said between them. At the end of it all, Vincent Hunt loves his family more than anything on this earth. Strip away his expensive suit, fancy watch, and the billions sitting in his wallet, he’s just like the rest of us. He’s a parent.

I felt my knees growing weaker by the second.

The instant Vincent Hunt pulled on the new line of suits, it seemed like they were made just for him. The fabric molded to his musculature, and his expansive chest stretched his collared shirt in just the right way. He never smiled for any of the photographs, but that intense expensive he wore made the suits look better anyway.

What I love most is fashion. I care about the feel of every fabric, the way it smells once it’s delivered. But being with Vincent Hunt made me forget the suits and focus on the man underneath the material.

It started off with a lunch meeting, but then we bumped into each other at a fashion show. Then it led to lunch, a tour of a famous museum, and then a beautiful candlelight dinner. I told myself not to let my heart run off with Vincent Hunt, but every time I looked into those brown eyes, I got lost.

He was too good to be true. He was a man every woman wanted. Kind, honest, rugged, and a pure gentleman. He’d aged like a fine wine, and I’d never seen a man more handsome than the one who barely touched me.

But I knew Vincent Hunt was complicated for a reason.

A widower of more than a decade, he still carried a vigil for his wife in his heart. She was a ghost every new woman would have to compete with, and of course, she would always win.

His love for his wife never bothered me. I respected it, understood it.

But I wondered if he had room for one more person, even if it was just a small amount of space in his heart.

I’m beginning to see that Vincent Hunt prefers physical relationships because they don’t make him feel anything. There’s no reason to feel guilty when there’s nothing to feel guilty about.

But that’s not what I want.

I want those conversations, those walks through the museum. I want to know the man underneath the suit, to have more than just a relationship—but a friendship. No man in my entire life has made my heart beat so fast, has made me feel like I’m not too old to fall in love.

So I’m going to tell him how I feel and hope for the best.

I’m not asking for forever.

All I’m asking is for a chance.

Because Vincent Hunt is a man I’m willing to be patient with. And he’s the only man I’m willing to share with another woman. He’s worth the risk, worth this confession.

He’s worth it all.

---

I finished the last page and set it on my desk. The black letters contrasted against the cream paper and stood out to me in bold. I wanted to read it again, but I knew it would say the same thing.

Scarlet understood me better than I realized.

Perhaps I wasn’t as clever as I thought.

My hands came together in my lap, and my fingers touched. I considered the article again, going through the different points she made. It was unbelievably flattering and so honest that my respect for her continued to grow.

I blew her off on her doorstep, but she still made another move.

And it was a good move.

The idea of calling her was tempting. I wanted to invite her to my place for an intimate dinner. I wanted to learn more about her daughter, about the things in life that made her happy. I also wanted those quiet moments when we didn’t say anything at all. That peaceful silence was what I valued most in a relationship. I wasn’t a strong conversationalist. All I could do was be direct about what I wanted. But talking for pleasure…wasn’t my strength.

And I wanted to do other things with her.

I wanted to make love to her.

The second I let the thought enter my mind, I felt the burn of betrayal. I felt unfaithful to Isabella. She was the only woman I’d ever made love to. Alessia, Meredith, and all the others were nothing but good fucks. The distinction was clear, and I never crossed it.

I’d waited long enough to move on, but now that the moment was there, I wasn’t sure if I could do it.

I couldn’t.

---

It would be cheap to do this over the phone, so I waited outside her office building until she left work.

She stepped out in the same outfit she’d been wearing when she stopped by my office.

I emerged from the side of the building and walked up to her. She didn’t realize I was there, so I said her name. “Scarlet.”

She stopped at the sound of my voice and turned to me, her eyes unable to hide their surprise. She didn’t have any warning, so she needed a few seconds to compose herself. “Hello, Vincent. I didn’t see you there…”

“It’s alright.” We stood away from the pedestrians on the sidewalk. The foot traffic became more saturated as everyone else got off work and headed to the gym or home. Now that I was face-to-face with her, this suddenly became much harder. “I liked the article.”

She held her purse over her shoulder, the unease obvious in her gaze. “I’m glad…”

“You should publish it.”

“Great.” She cleared her throat. “And the other article…?” It was the first time she looked away, glancing at the ground so she could have a break from my intense stare, the one she liked so much.

I didn’t want to hurt this woman, not when I’d become so fond of her. But I didn’t want to drag her on and hope for more. It was my fault for leading her on in the first place. I shouldn’t have asked her to breakfast and dinner so many times. I shouldn’t have put her in this position in the first place. “Everything you said about me is true. You know me better than I realized.”

She gave a slight nod.

“I like you, Scarlet. We both know that. But…I don’t think I can do this.”

She closed her eyes briefly, swallowing the painful answer she didn’t want to hear.

“Alessia and Meredith…they’re just companions. They don’t mean anything to me. But you do mean something to me…and that’s why it feels wrong. I thought I could move on, but I don’t think I can. My wife…she’ll always be there.”

“I understand, Vincent,” she whispered. “But keep in mind I’ve never asked you to forget about her.”

“I know…but I feel like I’m betraying her.”

She was quiet, her hands moving into the pockets of her jacket. She glanced at the people on the sidewalk then turned back to me. “I accept your decision, Vincent. And I appreciate your coming down to tell me in person. But as a friend, I feel like I should say this to you.”

“I’m listening.”

“If I were lucky enough to have married you, I know I would want you to move on. I know I would want another woman to take care of you, to put away your laundry, cook dinner, and make you happy. We only have so much time on this earth…we should make the best of it.” She moved into me and rose on her tiptoes before she planted a kiss on my cheek. Then she quickly turned away, avoiding eye contact with me. “Take care, Vincent.”

I watched her walk away, feeling the burn of her kiss branded into my skin. The heels of her pumps clapped against the concrete as she walked away. I listened to the tap as it faded away until it was gone altogether. I felt Scarlet walk out of my life forever.

I didn’t think it would hurt this much.

But it did.