Four Of A Kind - Chapter 183: [4.1] Thermonuclear

Chapter 183: [4.1] Thermonuclear

VOLUME 4 COVER

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I dropped back against the guest room bed and stared at the ceiling. A groan started somewhere around my toes and worked its way up. What a fucking day.

Scratch that. What a fucking week.

I’d woken up this morning questioning which Valentine sister had kissed me on the manor steps, and now I lay here with Vivienne’s expensive lipstick probably still smeared somewhere on my face after she’d devoured me in both a museum bathroom and the back of a luxury car.

Oh, and her mother had threatened to destroy my sister’s future if I didn’t stay away from all four of them.

Cool. Cool cool cool.

My phone buzzed. Vivienne, with a seven-paragraph text about something.

“Just kiss me again instead of sending me shower instructions,” I muttered, typing a simple “Thanks” in response.

I kicked off the fancy dress shoes someone had definitely paid too much for and wiggled my toes. The borrowed suit jacket hung over a chair that probably cost more than my entire apartment. The silver cufflinks—Richard Valentine’s cufflinks—sat on the nightstand, catching moonlight from the window.

I should shower. Should wash off the museum, the champagne, the stress, and the feeling of Vivienne’s tongue against mine. I should wash that away before I did something stupid like think about it all night.

But moving seemed impossible. My limbs weighed eight thousand pounds each. I closed my eyes for just a second.

My phone buzzed again.

Isaiah, regarding what happened in the car, I believe we should establish clear parameters for—

I didn’t finish reading. She was already overthinking it. Trying to organize feelings into folders like they were quarterly reports.

I sat up. Every muscle protested the movement. My fingers worked at the shirt buttons, slow, like my brain had forgotten how buttons functioned. Whoever had tailored this thing knew what they were doing. The fabric slid over my skin like water. Rich people had access to shirts that felt like air.

The truth scratched at the back of my mind. Persistent. Annoying. Like a cat that wanted food at 3 AM and wouldn’t shut up until you fed it.

I blinked at the ceiling. What was I doing here?

Scholarship kid from Philly. Two-toned hair because dyeing it properly cost money I didn’t have. Iris waiting at home. Bar shifts at Velvet Room. Every piece of clothing I owned came from thrift stores or clearance racks. That was my reality. That was who I actually was when you stripped away the borrowed suit and the borrowed proximity to wealth.

I didn’t belong in this world of galas and champagne. Of identical quadruplets with purple eyes and wine-red hair who’d all seemed to have decided—independently or collectively, I couldn’t tell—that I was worth their attention.

I definitely didn’t belong in a situation where I might want all of them back.

The shirt came off. I tossed it onto the chair with the jacket.

“You’re an idiot, Angelo,” I said to the empty room. “A complete fucking moron.”

But was I?

Let’s review the facts:

Cassidy. The Club. Challenge. The tennis court. Her on my lap. “I think I like you.”

Harlow. The Heart. Hugs. The way she looked at me like I’d hung the stars.

Sabrina. The Spade. The way she watched. How she always found a way to be on my lap.

Vivienne. The Diamond. Tonight. That bathroom stall kiss that was definitely going in my personal hall of fame.

And one of them—still didn’t know which—had kissed me on the manor steps.

I fell back onto the bed again. The ceiling offered no answers, just expensive crown molding.

Four sisters. Identical. Different. All getting under my skin in different ways.

“You need to pick one, asshole,” I told myself. “Or better yet, pick none and keep your job.”

But Vivienne’s words echoed in my head.

I’m playing for keeps.

The bathroom beckoned. I forced myself up and trudged toward the shower, a monument to wealth with its fifteen different settings, rainfall showerhead, and built-in speakers. Who needed speakers in a shower? The Valentines, apparently.

The hot water helped. A little. I stood under the spray for what felt like hours, letting it pound against my shoulders, washing away the night. Not the memories, though. Those stayed stubbornly present.

Vivienne’s lips. Cassidy’s weight on my lap. Harlow’s hugs. Sabrina’s quiet presence.

I was so fucking screwed.

Clean but no less confused, I pulled on the sweatpants and t-shirt I slept in, a contrast to the luxury suit I’d worn earlier. The clock read 11:37 PM. The manor felt quiet, but it was the quiet of a house where people were still awake, just doing quiet things.

I crawled into bed. My body was grateful for the mattress that probably cost more than my tuition. My phone buzzed again.

Vivienne looked happy when she got back. Did something happen?

Iris. My actual sister. The one person in this mess who mattered most.

All good. Get some sleep. See you at breakfast.

I set an alarm, plugged in my phone, and closed my eyes.

Sleep almost took me when a shout ripped through the manor.

“YOU WHAT?!”

Cassidy’s voice. Unmistakable. The volume could wake the dead.

My phone vibrated on the nightstand.

LOCK YOUR DOOR NOW

Vivienne.

I bolted upright.

What the actual fuck?

Before I could move, footsteps pounded down the hall. Heavy. Angry. Coming closer.

I leaped from the bed and reached the door just as someone slammed into it from the outside. The impact rattled the frame.

“OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR, ANGELO!”

Cassidy sounded murderous.

I turned the lock with a click that sounded too loud in the quiet room.

“Cassidy,” I said, trying for calm. “It’s almost midnight. What’s going on?”

“WHAT’S GOING ON?” Her voice rose to a pitch that probably had dogs howling three counties over. “YOU KISSED MY SISTER!”

Oh shit.

“I CAN HEAR YOU BREATHING IN THERE, ASSHOLE!”

My phone buzzed again. Vivienne.

Do NOT open that door. I’m handling it.

Handling it how, exactly? Cassidy sounded ready to rip the door off its hinges with her bare hands.

“Cassidy,” I tried again, “can we talk about this tomorrow when everyone’s calmer?”

“CALMER? I’M PERFECTLY FUCKING CALM!” Something crashed against the door—her fist, probably. “YOU’RE ALREADY MAKING OUT WITH VIVIENNE AT A MUSEUM?”

My stomach dropped. How did she know about the museum? Had Vivienne confessed everything?

Another text notification lit up my screen.

I told them I brought you as my date. Cassidy asked if I kissed you. I said yes. She’s upset.

That qualified for the understatement of the millennium. Cassidy wasn’t upset—she’d gone thermonuclear.

“What happened to tennis practice?” I called through the barrier between us, trying to redirect her fury. “You were going to work on your backhand, remember?”

“DON’T CHANGE THE SUBJECT!” The door shuddered under another impact. “YOU TOLD ME YOU DIDN’T HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!”

“I don’t!”

“LIAR! YOU WERE PLAYING WITH ME WHILE DATING MY SISTER!”

“I’m not dating anyone!” I pressed my forehead against the wooden door, feeling the vibration of her rage through it. “Cassidy, please, just let me explain.”

“Explain what? That you’re a player? That you crawled into my bed while secretly hooking up with Vivienne?”

She was furious about last night? When she’d climbed onto my lap? That wasn’t—we’d never—

“We didn’t hook up,” I said, immediately realizing my mistake. Definitely not what she needed to hear right now.

“THAT’S YOUR DEFENSE? THAT YOU ONLY KISSED HER?”

Multiple footsteps approached from further down the hallway.

“Cassidy, stop this shouting. You’ll wake the entire house.” Vivienne’s voice cut through the chaos, cold and controlled.

“Fuck you, Vivi! You knew I liked him!”

My heart seized in my chest. She’d said it. Out loud. To her sister.

“I didn’t,” Vivienne responded, her tone softening. “You never said anything about him.”

“You’re my sister! You’re supposed to KNOW I liked him without me saying it!”

“How? You argue with me constantly, Cass. You barely let me breathe in your presence.”

“So you kissed him to get back at me?” Cassidy’s voice turned sharp. “Is that what this is?”

“No. That’s not—”

“What’s going on?” Harlow’s voice floated from down the hall, thick with sleep. “Why is everyone shouting?”

“Go back to your room, Harlow.” Vivienne’s tone turned final.

A pause. Then Cassidy laughed bitterly.

“No. Stay. You should hear this too.”

My stomach dropped.

“Cass—” Vivienne tried.

“Tell her, Vivi. Tell Harlow what you did.”

“Vivienne kissed Isaiah,” Cassidy revealed, each word dripping with betrayal. “At the museum. Tonight.”

A heavy silence blanketed the hallway. I pressed my ear harder against the door.

“Oh.” Harlow’s voice sounded small, like something inside her had deflated. “I… I see.”

Fuck. This was getting worse by the second.

My phone buzzed again.

Don’t come out no matter what you hear. This is between us.

I texted back: They’re upset because of me. I should talk to them.

NO. You’ll make it worse.

“So,” Harlow’s voice broke the silence. “Are you… are you two dating now?”