Four Of A Kind - Chapter 166: [3.68] The Death Cry of a Whale

Chapter 166: [3.68] The Death Cry of a Whale

I stood in the middle of that awkward silence with Vivienne, watching it grow longer by the second. Neither of us seemed prepared for what comes after a confession. Pretty funny, considering she’s normally Miss “I Have a Color-Coded Plan for the Next Six Months.”

My stomach decided to fill our conversational void with what can only be described as the death cry of a whale. Loud. Undignified. Impossible to ignore.

Vivienne’s mouth twitched.

Then she did something I’d never witnessed in my three weeks of employment.

She laughed.

Not that polite, camera-ready chuckle she uses at press events. A real laugh—short, surprised, almost shocked at herself for producing it. The sound lasted maybe two seconds before she clapped her hand over her mouth like she’d committed a crime.

“Sorry,” she said through her fingers. Her ears had turned pink. “That was.”

“Rude?”

“I was going to say unexpected.”

“Yeah, well. My internal organs don’t care about timing.”

Vivienne lowered her hand. The smile lingered at the corner of her lips where she hadn’t quite managed to smooth it away. “When did you last eat?”

“This morning. I think.”

“You think?”

“Felix bought me tacos at lunch but that was like. Six hours ago.”

“Isaiah.”

“Vivienne.”

She closed her eyes. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Say my name like that when you’re being deliberately obtuse.”

“Like what?”

“You know exactly like what.”

I did know. Just like she knew exactly what she was doing when she said mine in that particular tone that made my brain temporarily forget how to function. But I wasn’t about to admit that out loud because my survival instinct still occasionally tried to do its job.

Vivienne walked back to her desk and checked something on her tablet—the one she’d turned off approximately ninety seconds ago for me. When she looked up, her mask was back in place. Almost.

“Chef Laurent prepared dinner at six thirty,” she said, professional voice activated. Business mode engaged. If I didn’t know better I’d think the laugh never happened. “It’s seven forty-three now. The food’s cold but Mrs. Tanaka can reheat everything.”

“As in. Together?”

“As in dinner. Yes. Together.”

“You, me, and.”

“Harlow, Sabrina, Cassidy, and your sister.” She paused. “Iris. Who has apparently been absorbed into Harlow’s inner circle in under two hours.”

“That’s terrifying.”

“Harlow has that effect on people.”

The idea of sitting down to dinner with all four Valentine sisters plus my fourteen-year-old sister who definitely noticed something weird happened Sunday and definitely would interrogate everyone sounded like a recipe for disaster. The kind where I end up explaining things I don’t understand while Iris makes faces at me from across expensive china plates.

But my stomach growled again. Louder this time, like it was personally offended by my hesitation.

“Alright,” I said. “I’m starving anyway.”

Vivienne stood. Smoothed her skirt. Checked her reflection in the dark window. “You have grass stains on your shoulder.”

“I was playing tennis.”

“With Cassidy.”

“She needed to hit things.”

“And you volunteered as target practice.” Her eyes met mine in the reflection. “That was kind of you.”

“It was stupid of me.”

“Perhaps.” She turned. “But Cassidy smiled when she came inside. I heard her laughing from the upstairs hallway. That doesn’t happen often.”

I wasn’t sure what to do with that information. Filed it away under “things Vivienne notices” and “reasons I’m definitely getting fired when her mom finds out I’m making her daughters smile.”

We walked through the manor side by side. Not close enough to touch but closer than employer and employee should be walking. The portraits judged us silently. I was getting really tired of their disapproving faces.

“Tomorrow,” Vivienne said as we reached the stairs. “You’ll need to get ready at four. Hair, wardrobe check, final briefing. The car picks us up at six fifteen.”

“Us.”

“Yes. Us.” She kept her eyes forward, descending the stairs with that perfect posture that probably took years of training. “I’ve already informed my mother you’ll be attending as my guest rather than staff.”

My foot caught on the step.

“You what?”

“I sent the email thirty minutes ago.” Vivienne continued down like she hadn’t just casually dropped a bomb. “Before you arrived. Before I lost my nerve.”

“And she said?”

“Nothing yet.” Vivienne reached the bottom of the staircase and finally turned to face me. “She won’t respond until tomorrow morning at the earliest. By then it will be too late to change the arrangements.”

I studied her face. The way her jaw was set. The slight tremor in her hands that she tried to hide by clasping them together.

“You’re scared.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. Your hands shake when you lie.”

She looked down at her hands like they’d betrayed her. Which they had. “I’m not scared. I’m.”

“Terrified?”

“Strategically concerned.”

I almost laughed. “That’s not a real emotion.”

“It is when you’re a Valentine.” She turned toward the dining room. “Come on. Harlow’s probably already stress-eating the bread basket and Cassidy will steal your plate if we’re late.”

The dining room felt different than last time. Fewer candles. More actual light. Harlow sat next to Iris, both bent over my sister’s phone showing each other something that made them giggle. Sabrina occupied her usual spot by the window with her book. Cassidy slumped in her chair like gravity personally offended her, but she looked up when we entered.

Her eyes went to me first. Then to Vivienne. Then back to me.

Her expression did something complicated I didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to decode right now.

“About time,” Cassidy said. “I’m dying. Chef made duck and Mrs. Tanaka’s been guarding it like it’s the crown jewels.”

“You could have started without us,” Vivienne said, taking her seat at the table’s head.

“And let you accuse me of having no manners?” Cassidy snorted. “Pass.”

I ended up between Sabrina and Iris, which felt like a tactical error but I was too hungry to argue. Mrs. Tanaka appeared with covered dishes that she set down with quiet efficiency. The woman deserved a raise for putting up with this family.

“Duck confit,” she announced. “With roasted vegetables and pommes Anna. Chef also prepared a tarte tatin for dessert.”

“Thanks Mrs. T,” Harlow said, already reaching for the serving spoon.

“Wait,” Vivienne said.

Everyone froze.

Vivienne looked around the table. At her sisters. At Iris. At me. Something crossed her face I couldn’t quite read. Like she was seeing something that surprised her.

“What?” Cassidy demanded.