My Uncle-in-law Is Too Tempting

Vivienne's Pov

"You're replacing Dad already?" The words slipped out before I could stop them, loud in the quiet sitting room. I stood up from the couch, my heart pounding. "Right now? After everything? After Dad's..." I couldn't finish the sentence. Just thinking about it made my chest ache.

"Yes," Mum cut in, her voice flat, arms folded like she was delivering a weather report. I blinked. She was calm. Too calm. Like this wasn't the wildest thing she'd ever said.

"You told me I should stop pushing people away," she added, brushing at her skirt like the conversation was casual. "You said I shouldn't be alone forever."

"Yeah," I said, voice tight. "But I didn't mean this." Dad was still everywhere. In the photos on the wall. In the way the house smelled. We hadn't even closed his case. His killer was still walking free. And she was planning a wedding? I turned away, needing distance before I said something I couldn't take back. This house didn't feel like home anymore. Not with her treating Dad's memory like an old box she'd packed away.

"You're not even trying to understand," she said behind me as I climbed the stairs.

"You've already decided," I shot back. I didn't stop. She followed me and grabbed my arm.

"Let go." My voice was low and cold.

"You're doing what you want. Don't expect me to smile about it." She let go. But not without words.

"You think I don't miss him every day?" Her voice rose slightly. "You think I forgot how he laughed? How did he hold your hand when you were scared?" I turned. Her eyes were red, not from crying, but from fighting the urge to.

"If you miss him so much," I said, "why are you acting like he didn't matter?"

Her throat moved like she was swallowing something sharp. "Because I can't stay stuck. I loved him. You know I did. But he's not coming back." Her voice cracked. And for one second, I saw it, the weight she carried. The act she'd been putting on for weeks.

"How long have you even known this guy?" I asked. She hesitated. Just a second. But enough.

"Two weeks." I laughed. Short. Harsh. "Two weeks?"

"He brings me peace," she said. "I can finally breathe around him. I know it's fast. But it feels right. Please. Just meet him." She reached for my hand. I pulled back like she was offering poison.

"This isn't you," I said. "You plan everything. You think before you leap. Where's that version of you?"

She looked tired. "You wouldn't be okay with it, even if I waited five years. You want me to stay in one place. But I can't."

"I want you to be smart."

"I'm not asking for permission. I just didn't want you to hear it from someone else." Before I could reply, the doorbell rang. She changed instantly. Her posture straightened. Her eyes lit up. She looked different and younger.

"He's here," she said, smoothing her hair. Her hands were shaking a little, but her smile didn't move. She headed toward the hallway like this was the best day of her life. Meanwhile, mine was falling apart. I stood at the stairs, stuck. My chest felt tight. My thoughts were loud, crashing into each other.

"Do I look okay? Is my makeup too much? The dress, is it too short? Maybe I should've worn something else. This necklace.."

"You brought him here?" I snapped. "To Dad's house? Are you serious?" I pulled my hand from hers like she'd slapped me.

"Are you not even a little ashamed?" She froze, jaw tightening, lips thinning.

"Don't start," she said. That old mum tone was back, crisp and controlled, like I was a child acting out. But she didn't get the chance to say anything more. The doorbell rang again. Of course, saved by the bell. She didn't glance at me, not even once. Instead, she adjusted her dress, lifted her chin, and walked away. Like nothing I said mattered. Like none of this did.

Her dress ended just above her knees. She looked... elegant. She looked confident, like someone who had already moved on, and maybe she had. The thought hit harder than I expected. Even through the anger coiling in my chest, I couldn't ignore how beautiful she looked. She was glowing. But not the kind of glow that comes after grief, not the slow burn of healing. No. This was the glow of someone in love. It made me feel sick.

"I should've told you earlier," she whispered, voice soft and fragile. "He really wants to meet you."

He? I blinked, as if that might clear the fog building behind my eyes. My legs moved on their own as I followed her into the front room. I didn't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't the sight of her giggling and kissing some man on the cheek like she was sixteen again. My breath caught. Just for a second. But it was enough. That should've been Dad beside her. That should've been him she was smiling at, not this stranger.

The man's hand slid around her back with ease, like it had always belonged there. I clenched my fists at my sides. Everything about the moment felt like betrayal.

"Vivienne, meet Xavier. Xavier, this is my daughter.."

"I heard you," I cut in coldly, my voice laced with ice. I didn't take his hand. Instead, I folded my arms across my chest, locking myself in, just to keep from exploding. He looked taken aback for a moment, but recovered quickly, offering a polite smile.

"It's really nice to meet you, Vivienne," he said, his tone warm. Too warm.

I didn't care how kind he sounded. He wasn't my father. He didn't sound like him. He didn't carry himself like him. He was older, yes, with a neatly trimmed beard and soft brown eyes that tried too hard to seem harmless. A little taller than Mum, but not as tall as Dad. Not as proud. Not as solid.

"I wish you'd try to be open-minded," Mum said gently, though tension edged into her voice. "I know this is hard..."

"Hard?" I let out a short, bitter laugh. "Hard doesn't even scratch the surface."

She looked like she wanted to argue but swallowed it back. A sigh escaped her lips as she straightened her shoulders again.

"Xavier's younger brother is coming too," she added after a beat. "He really wanted to meet me before the wedding."

Wedding? I blinked again. Maybe I was hearing things.

"What wedding?" I asked, my voice low, menacing. Before she could answer, the doorbell rang.

"He was outside taking a call," Xavier offered casually, like this was all perfectly reasonable. Like it made sense to welcome two strangers into the house my father built with his bare hands. I folded my arms tighter, like it might hold the rest of me together. Then he walked in.

"You must be Aurora," he said, voice dark and velvet-smooth. "I've heard so much about the woman driving my brother absolutely mad."

He kissed Mum's cheek like they'd known each other forever, and I nearly gagged. He held her hand like it belonged to him. Not rudely. Not even arrogantly. But with a kind of casual ownership that made bile rise in my throat.

"That's enough, Lucian," Xavier muttered, stepping forward like a warning bell. But Lucian's eyes were already somewhere else. On me. Our eyes locked, and for a heartbeat, the entire world fell away. He wasn't just handsome.

He was seductive, the kind of handsome that ruins things. A leather jacket slung over broad shoulders. Black t-shirt clinging to a chest that looked sculpted. Dark jeans. Heavy boots. A five o'clock shadow dusting his jaw. And those eyes...God. Icy blue. Piercing. Unapologetically intense. They looked at me like they saw everything. Like they already knew my secrets.

"That's my daughter, Vivienne," Mum said quickly, filling the silence that had swallowed the room.

"Hi," I murmured. My voice didn't even sound like mine. I cleared my throat. "Nice to meet you."

Lucian smiled, slow and lazy, like I'd just told him something amusing.

"It's great to finally meet you, Vivienne," he said, dragging out my name like it meant something.

Something electric crawled down my spine.

"You too," I managed, though I still couldn't look away.

"I was going to cook," Mum said, her voice unnaturally bright. "But Xavier thought we should go out instead."

"Great. So I'm expected to come along too?" I muttered under my breath.

Mum's smile faltered. Her eyes flicked toward me, flashing a quiet warning, but she didn't answer.

"Maybe we can have drinks after dinner," Lucian offered, his voice smooth as glass. "I'd like to get to know my new family."

On the surface, it sounded innocent. But the way he said it, slow, deliberate, made my skin prickle.

"That's a great idea! Go get dressed, sweetheart," Mum chirped. Too cheerful. Like nothing beneath the surface was cracking.

I wanted to say no. I wanted to scream. But instead, I turned and walked toward the stairs. Each step heavier than the last. My legs trembled. At the top, something made me glance back. Lucian was still watching me. Not my face. Lower. Heat rushed up my neck. I spun and hurried into my room, heart pounding like it wanted to escape my chest.

Moments ago, I was furious with my mother for falling in love again. For moving on so easily from Dad. But now? Now, I was ashamed. Ashamed of the way my pulse raced. Ashamed of the heat blooming low in my stomach. Because I wasn't just angry anymore. I was flustered. And Lucian, the man who was about to become my uncle-in-law, was the reason.