Chapter Five
Savannah
By the time I descended to the kitchen again, the tension that had simmered during breakfast was still clinging to the air like perfume left too long. His cologne still haunted the hallway, subtle but sharp, just like him.
Atticus had pulled away again, retreating to the comfort of control like it was a tailored suit. He adjusted his cuff, not meeting my eyes as he said, "I've got to head into the office."
He paused, just for a second. "There's food in the fridge. Libone's downstairs if you need anything or want to go out."
"Okay," I replied, my voice quieter than I intended. Not cold. Just... there.
He nodded. No touch. No smile. Just turned on his heel and left, the door clicking shut behind him.
It shouldn't have made me feel anything.
But it did.
I stood there a little longer, watching the doorway like it might give me answers. When it didn't, I exhaled, moved on, and did what I always did when the world didn't make sense—I found something to hold onto.
Teaching had become my anchor.
Not on a stage, not twirling under golden lights. But in a tiny studio downtown, showing wide-eyed little girls how to point their toes and chase joy through movement. It was enough. It kept the memories from swallowing me whole.
I packed my things, tossing my dance flats and water bottle into the worn canvas tote. My phone buzzed.
Laura.
"God, I miss you," she breathed into the receiver before I could even say hello.
"I know," I murmured, smiling.
"This place better not be converting you."
I chuckled. "It's gorgeous... but dead. Like living inside a museum."
"Then don't become one of the exhibits. Rebel. Play music. Break things."
I laughed for real that time, the sound surprising even me. But before I could reply, another notification lit up my screen.
Not Laura this time.
Shawn: Dad wants to confirm you're attending the investors' dinner next week.
Of course, he did.
Me: I'll be there. Tell him not to worry. His little asset is fully functional.
Shawn: Don't joke like that.
Me: Don't pretend it's not true.
Shawn: Vannah...
Me: I'm okay. Sort of. Just need to get through today.
Shawn: Call me if you need an escape plan.
Me: Deal. Love you.
My thumb hovered over another thread.
Atticus.
I didn't owe him anything. But part of me wanted to make sure he knew. That I'd play my part. That I wasn't going to ruin the show.
Me: Reminder—investors' dinner's next week. Your family's still expecting us both to be there. Just letting you know.
I didn't expect a reply. I didn't even know if he'd saved my number.
But seconds later, my phone chimed.
Atticus: How did you get my number?
I could picture his smirk through the text.
Me: Trade secret. 😌
Atticus: Should I be concerned?
Me: Only if you start ignoring my messages. I'm very persistent.
Atticus: Noted.
Me: Mr. Libone gave it to me. He likes me better.
Atticus: I'll have a word with him.
Me: Don't. You'll scare him. And then who'll drive your grumpy ass around?
Atticus: You're getting bold, sunshine.
Me: Call me that again and I'll replace your cologne with glitter spray.
Atticus: I dare you.
Me: Maybe I will.
Atticus: Maybe I want you to.
My stomach twisted. I locked my screen.
"Miss Savannah?" Mr. Libone's voice called from the hallway.
"I'm coming."
He opened the door for me like he always had—like I wasn't some stranger wrapped in scandal and silk.
"Heading to the studio?"
I nodded.
He didn't say anything for a moment, then murmured, "He's more careful around you than he lets on."
"I can't tell if that's good or bad," I whispered.
He smiled softly. "That means he feels something."
Atticus
I buried myself in meetings, trying to drown her out.
I told myself that after a week or two, this would be easy. Familiar. The same way mergers feel after the papers are signed—necessary, bloodless, complete.
But it wasn't.
Because she wasn't.
Savannah wasn't just beautiful. She had a presence. The kind that made silence feel full. The kind that left echoes after she walked away.
I stared at the message she'd sent earlier. Simple. Informative. But it did something to me. Knowing she thought to tell me. Knowing she wanted me to know.
And when I saw her name light up my phone again, I swear—for one stupid second—I felt like a teenager.
Her: Just letting you know.
God, what was that flutter in my chest? Amusement? Relief? Something worse?
She gave me something better than sarcasm.
Something flirtatious. Light. Real.
And I couldn't stop the small smile tugging at my lips.
Libone messaged a while later.
Libone: Miss Savannah's at the studio. Said she'd be back by four. I think she needed the air.
I stared at it longer than I needed to.
Because I knew what he meant.
He wasn't talking about traffic.
He meant me.
I was the air she needed to get away from.
And that... that shouldn't have bothered me as much as it did.
But it did.
Because underneath all this arrangement, all this business...
She was starting to feel like the one real thing I couldn't control.
And I didn't know whether I wanted to fix it...
Or ruin her enough that she stayed.
YOU ARE READING
Tangled Vows | PART 1 |
RomanceShe was the spark he never saw coming. He was the calm before the storm she wasn't ready for. Atticus Frensby - sharp-minded, sharp-tongued, and heartbreak in a tailored suit. A ruthless businessman who lives by logic, control, and ironclad contract...
