Four Of A Kind - Chapter 175: [3.77] Playing For Keeps
Chapter 175: [3.77] Playing For Keeps
Cassidy stood from where she’d been leaning against the banister. Her eyes tracked over me. Head to toe. Slow. Deliberate.
She didn’t say anything.
Her ears went pink.
Sabrina lowered her book. Studied me with those half-lidded eyes. “Interesting.”
“What’s interesting?” I asked.
“How clothes change perception.” She tilted her head. “You’re the same person. Yet completely different.”
Harlow bounced forward. “Can I touch the suit?”
“No.”
“Just the sleeve?”
“Harlow.”
“Please?”
“It’s fabric. You’ve touched fabric before.”
“Not on you.” She reached out. Her fingers brushed my jacket sleeve. “It’s so soft. What is this? Wool? Cashmere? Some kind of fancy sheep?”
Cassidy walked closer. Slow. Like she was approaching something that might bite.
She stopped about two feet away. Crossed her arms.
“You clean up okay,” she said. Casual. Too casual.
“Thanks.”
“For a scholarship kid.”
“And there it is.”
Her lips twitched. “Can’t let you get a big head.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Iris snapped another picture. “This one’s going on Instagram.”
“Delete that.”
“Make me.”
I moved toward her. She squealed and ran behind Harlow, using the girl as a human shield.
Harlow giggled. “I’ll protect you, Iris.”
“Thanks, Harlow.”
“No problem. That’s what friends do.”
Cassidy’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen. “Vivienne says she’s coming down.”
The temperature in the foyer dropped about fifteen degrees.
Harlow straightened. Smoothed her pink hoodie. “Okay everyone. Best behavior. No weird comments.”
“I don’t make weird comments,” Cassidy said.
“You exclusively make weird comments.”
“That’s literally my brand.”
“Your brand is chaos.”
“Exactly.”
Sabrina closed her book. Set it carefully on the side table. Stood with that boneless grace she always had.
She looked at me. Just looked.
“Good luck tonight,” she said. Quiet. “You’ll need it.”
Before I could ask what that meant, footsteps echoed from upstairs.
Heels on marble.
Slow. Measured. Coming down the grand staircase.
Everyone turned.
Vivienne appeared at the landing.
My brain stopped.
She wore burgundy. Deep wine-red that matched her hair. The dress hugged every curve from her chest to her hips before flowing down in liquid silk to the floor. The neckline plunged in a sharp V that stopped just before inappropriate. Her shoulders were bare. The back must have been open based on the front’s construction.
Her wine-red hair was pinned up. Elegant. Exposing the line of her neck.
Her makeup was subtle but devastating. Her purple eyes looked even larger. Her lips painted a shade darker than her dress.
She descended the stairs like she was born doing it. One hand trailing the bannister. The other holding her skirt slightly to avoid catching the hem.
Every step was perfect.
When she reached the bottom, she stopped.
Looked at me.
Something flickered in her expression. There and gone before I could identify it.
“You’re wearing the cufflinks,” she said. Soft.
“Yeah.”
“They suit you.”
“Thanks.”
She walked closer. Her heels clicked against marble. The scent of her perfume reached me. Something floral. Expensive.
She stopped about a foot away.
Held out her arm.
Bent at the elbow. Palm facing down.
The universal signal for take my arm, you absolute idiot.
I stared at her.
She stared back.
“Well?” Her eyebrow arched. “Are you going to make me stand here?”
“I thought.” My voice came out rougher than intended. “I thought you’d changed your mind.”
“I don’t change my mind.” She lifted her chin. “I make decisions and execute them.”
“Right.”
“So.” She kept her arm extended. “Are you my date tonight or not?”
Behind us, someone made a choking sound.
Probably Cassidy.
Maybe Harlow.
Could have been both.
I glanced back.
All three conscious sisters were staring. Iris looked like someone had just told her Santa was real.
Cassidy’s expression had gone completely blank. The way it did when she was processing something that broke her understanding of reality.
Harlow’s hands were pressed to her chest. Her mouth forming a perfect O.
Sabrina’s lips curved. Just slightly.
“Playing for keeps,” she murmured. “Huh?”
Vivienne’s voice cut through the shock. “Isaiah.”
I turned back.
Her purple eyes held mine. Steady. Certain.
I took her arm.
Her fingers curled around my elbow. Light. Possessive.
“Let’s go,” she said.
The car waited outside. Sleek. Black. Probably cost more than a house.
The driver opened the door. Vivienne slid in first. I followed.
Through the tinted window I could see the foyer. Four figures and one smaller one all pressed against the glass. Watching.
Harlow waved. Manic. Both hands.
Cassidy just stood there. Still processing.
Sabrina raised one hand. Small. Almost a salute.
Iris gave me double thumbs up. Grinning like she’d won something.
The car pulled away.
Vivienne sat beside me. Not touching. But close enough I could feel the heat from her bare shoulder.
“So,” I said. After about thirty seconds of silence.
“So.”
“Your sisters are going to have questions.”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Like. A lot of questions.”
“I’m aware.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
She turned to look at me. The city lights played across her face through the window.
“No,” she said. “I’m terrified.”
“Oh.”
“But I’m doing it anyway.”
“Why?”
Her fingers found mine. Laced through them. Her hand was cold.
“Because you asked me what I wanted,” she said. Quiet. “And nobody’s asked me that in two years.”
The party was being held at some museum in Midtown. The kind with columns and marble steps and people in tuxedos checking names at the door.
Photographers lined the red carpet. Actual red carpet. With velvet ropes and security.
Vivienne’s hand tightened on my arm.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Absolutely not.”
“Good. Neither am I.”
The car door opened.
Camera flashes exploded like gunfire.
I stepped out first. Turned. Offered my hand.
Vivienne took it.
Rose from the car with that impossible grace.
The cameras went absolutely insane.
Someone shouted her name. A dozen voices overlapped. Asking about her dress. Her date. Her collection.
Vivienne smiled. That perfect smile she’d practiced ten thousand times.
She pulled me close. Her hand still in mine.
“Stay with me,” she said. Just for me. “Please.”
I squeezed her hand.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
