"Now?" I picked up on the emphasis.

Camille’s eyes flickered. "The upcoming Paris show is critical. All attention must be focused on our business objectives."

But something in her tone suggested there was more. I filed that away for later.

"So what exactly are you proposing?" I asked.

"As I said, a morality clause in your contract." Camille’s voice was all business. "You maintain professional boundaries with all members of the Valentine family. In return, your employment continues, including the educational arrangements for your sister."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then you’re welcome to pursue other opportunities."

Translation: Get fired and blacklisted.

I felt Vivienne’s eyes on me but kept my gaze locked with Camille’s. "Seems like you’ve thought of everything."

"It’s my job to think of everything."

"Almost everything." I tilted my head. "You forgot to account for the fact that your daughters are autonomous individuals capable of making their own choices."

"They are minors under my legal guardianship."

"They’re seventeen, not seven. And in a few months, they’ll be eighteen." I shrugged. "But sure, add your clause. I’ll sign it."

Both Valentine women looked surprised at my easy capitulation.

"You will?" Vivienne asked.

"Of course." I smiled at Camille. "I never mix business with pleasure anyway."

Camille studied me for a long moment. "Very well. I’ll have the paperwork sent over today. Now, the quarterly reports—"

"Actually," Vivienne interrupted, "I need a moment with Isaiah to discuss something. Can we reconvene in ten minutes?"

Camille’s displeasure was subtle but clear. "Time is money, Vivienne."

"I’m aware. Ten minutes."

Without waiting for her mother’s response, Vivienne reached over and ended the call. She stood up from her desk, pacing to the window.

"You shouldn’t have done that," I said.

"She shouldn’t have threatened your sister." Vivienne kept her back to me, staring out at the grounds. "That was unconscionable."

"It was business."

"It was personal."

"With your mother, is there a difference?"

Vivienne’s shoulders slumped slightly. "Sometimes I wish..."

"What?"

She turned to face me, the sunlight silhouetting her against the window. "I wish we were just normal teenagers. That I could like a boy without it becoming a corporate crisis. That I could kiss someone without my mother conducting a background check and risk assessment."

"Normal is overrated," I said, trying to lighten the mood. "Normal teenagers don’t have private studies and quarterly reports."

"They also don’t have morality clauses and brand alignment concerns." She walked back to her desk but didn’t sit. "I’m sorry about all this."

"Don’t be. I knew what I was getting into." Not entirely true, but close enough.

"Did you?" She moved around the desk, stopping in front of me. "Because I didn’t. I didn’t plan on... on wanting to break my own rules."

The air between us grew thick. I stayed seated, knowing that if I stood, I’d be too close to her.

"Vivienne..."

"I know." She held up a hand. "Boundaries. Professionalism. Contracts. I understand."

"Do you?" I raised an eyebrow. "Because you’re standing between my knees right now."

She glanced down, seeming surprised by her own position. "So I am."

"Not very professional of you, Miss Valentine."

A hint of a smile touched her lips. "Perhaps I need better boundaries."

"Or perhaps we both need to remember what’s at stake."

Her smile faded. "You’re right." She took a step back. "I should call my mother back."

"Before you do..." I reached out and caught her wrist. "Thank you for defending Iris."

Her expression softened. "Anyone who threatens a child deserves to be challenged, even my mother."

"Especially your mother."

This time she did smile, and it transformed her face completely. For a moment, she wasn’t the heir to a fashion empire or the perfect Valentine daughter. She was just a seventeen-year-old girl with a genuine smile that lit up her purple eyes.

"I should make that call," she said, but didn’t move.

"You should."

"Ten more seconds," she whispered.

"What?"

"Give me ten more seconds before we go back to being professional." Her eyes met mine, vulnerable and determined at once. "Ten seconds where we’re just Isaiah and Vivienne."

I should have said no. I should have reminded her of everything at stake—her sisters’ feelings, my job, Iris’s future.

Instead, I stood up.

For ten seconds, we stood close enough that I could smell her perfume—something expensive and subtle that made me think of winter mornings. Close enough that I could see the slight freckle near her left eyebrow that her makeup almost concealed. Close enough that if I leaned forward just slightly...

"Time’s up," she whispered, stepping back. The mask slid back into place—poised, professional, untouchable. She returned to her seat and reopened the video call.

Camille’s face appeared, looking distinctly unamused. "I trust your urgent matter has been resolved?"

"Yes, Mother," Vivienne said smoothly. "Now, about those quarterly projections..."

I watched her transform back into the corporate heir, rattling off numbers and market analyses with perfect recall. My mind drifted to the ticking bomb that was the Valentine household—four sisters, each with their own agenda, each apparently interested in me for reasons I still couldn’t fully comprehend.

Cassidy with her defiance and desire to win at all costs. Harlow with her sunshine and secret vulnerability. Sabrina with her mystery and midnight visits. And Vivienne, torn between duty and desire.

Plus their mother, who could destroy my life and Iris’s future with a single phone call.

Just another normal day in the life of Isaiah Angelo, scholarship kid and apparent Valentine sister catnip.

I tuned back in as Vivienne mentioned my name.

"—Isaiah’s analysis of the Asia-Pacific market expansion suggests we should lead with the ready-to-wear line rather than haute couture," she was saying.

"Interesting." Camille’s gaze settled on me. "And what data are you basing this recommendation on, Mr. Angelo?"

I straightened in my chair. "Historical performance metrics in similar markets, cultural preference surveys, and competitive positioning analysis." I pulled up the spreadsheet I’d created last week. "The data indicates a 27% higher adoption rate when introducing accessible lines first, followed by luxury pieces once brand loyalty is established."

Camille’s eyebrows rose slightly. "That contradicts our traditional market entry strategy."

"Traditional doesn’t always mean optimal," I said.

"Bold statement from someone with no formal business training."

"Sometimes fresh eyes see what experience overlooks."

A long silence followed. Then, unexpectedly, Camille nodded. "Send me your analysis. If the data supports your conclusion, we’ll consider adjusting our strategy."

Wait. What?

Vivienne looked equally surprised. "Of course, Mother. I’ll forward everything immediately."

"Good." Camille glanced at something off-screen. "I have another call. We’ll continue this discussion tomorrow."

The call ended before either of us could respond.

Vivienne stared at the blank screen. "That was... unexpected."

"Yeah." I leaned back in my chair. "Was that option three? ’Start building Isaiah up to be worthy of being seen with a Valentine’?"

"Hardly." Vivienne closed her laptop. "That was my mother recognizing potentially valuable input, nothing more."

"Still. She didn’t fire me or force me to sign that morality clause on the spot."

"The day is young." Vivienne stood, smoothing her already perfect slacks. "And Mother plays the long game."

"So what now?"

She checked her watch. "Harlow has you scheduled for the next hour, I believe. Something about an anime convention?"

"Right." I stood too, feeling the strange transition back to normal employee duties. "And then Sabrina after that?"

"Actually, Sabrina canceled. Said she had research to complete."

"That’s... ominous."

Vivienne almost smiled. "Everything about Sabrina is ominous."

We walked to the door of her study, the professional veneer firmly back in place. But as I reached for the handle, Vivienne spoke again, her voice soft.

"Isaiah?"

"Hmm?"

"If things were different..." She trailed off, then shook her head. "Never mind. Go find Harlow before she comes looking for you in a full cosplay outfit."

"Yes, Miss Valentine."