By eight o'clock, the driveway of Hartwell House looked like a car show.

Bentleys. A silver Bugatti. Two Rolls-Royces parked nose to nose.

Elena stood beside me at the top of the ballroom stairs, reading names off her tablet in a low voice.

"The Kerrigan heir. Banking. The Delacroix twins. Hotels on three continents. Marcus Osbourne. His father just sold a tech company for nine billion."

"And the Vales?"

"Not here yet." She paused. "Miss Vivienne, nearly every client Mr. Vale has tried to court this year is standing in this room."

"I know."

Then the double doors swung open, and the whole room turned.

Sloane walked in on Adrian's arm, wearing white. Silk that hugged her hips and flared at the floor. A sweetheart neckline. All she needed was a veil.

Near the bar, Celeste Delacroix lowered her glass. "Is she... wearing a wedding dress to a party?"

Her twin, Julien, snorted. "To her future sister-in-law's party."

At the foot of the stairs, one of Sloane's straps slipped off her shoulder. Adrian reached over and slid it back into place. His fingertips lingered on her collarbone.

A year ago, I would have looked away and called myself paranoid.

Tonight, I nearly laughed out loud.

"Viv!" Adrian let go of Sloane and climbed the stairs. He kissed my cheek. His cologne was the same as always. Under it, faintly, was Sloane's vanilla perfume. "You look incredible, babe."

"Thank you."

His smile flickered for half a second. Sloane floated up behind him and threw her arms around me. "Vivi! Look what Adrian got me!"

She shoved her wrist under my nose. Diamonds, a whole row of them, catching the chandelier light.

"Gorgeous," I said. "What's the occasion?"

"No occasion!" She giggled and leaned against Adrian's side. "Big brothers spoil their little sisters. That's just normal, right?"

"Totally normal," I said.

The receipt had come to my inbox that afternoon. *Valentine's gift. Engraving: For my S.*

---

Dinner was halfway through when Sloane started swaying.

She just had had two glasses, but she pressed to her forehead and sagged against Adrian like she'd finished a bottle.

"Adrian," she whined. "My head is spinning."

"You okay?" He was already on his feet, his arm around her waist.

"I need to lie down. Somewhere quiet." She looked up at him through her lashes. "Stay with me? Please? I don't want to be alone."

"Of course."

He didn't even glance at me.

Across the table, Marcus Osbourne raised an eyebrow at his date. Nobody else seemed to notice.

I stood up and put on my most worried face. "Oh, sweetie." I touched Sloane's arm. "Elena, could you take them to the gallery room? It's the quietest spot in the house. Nobody will bother them there."

Elena stepped forward without a flicker on her face. "This way, Mr. Vale."

Sloane let herself be led out, leaning on Adrian the whole time. At the doorway, she glanced back at me.

"You're the best, Viv."

"I know," I said.

---

Elena came back eight minutes later. She bent close to my ear, as if she were asking about dessert.

"The door is closed," she murmured. "She kissed him before it latched. They're... undressing. Neither of them looked around the room even once."

"Not even at the mirror?"

"They can't wait.

My hand was perfectly steady when I set down my fork.

I stood and tapped my champagne flute with a spoon. The ballroom went quiet.

"Everyone, thank you for coming tonight." I smiled around the room. "I promised you a surprise. My father built a private gallery in this house years ago, and it's been closed for years. Tonight I'm reopening it with a brand-new piece."

"A new artist?" Celeste asked.

"Two of them, actually. A collaboration." I lifted my glass. "Follow me."

Chairs scraped back. People in silk and tuxedos poured into the long corridor behind me, chatting and laughing.

"Is it a Basquiat?" someone whispered.

"Vivienne always had better taste than Adrian," someone else said.

The glass wall came into view at the end of the hall.

The laughter stopped.

Not all at once. It died in waves, front to back, as each row of guests reached the glass.

Inside the room, on the velvet couch beside my red roses, Adrian Vale was on top of his sister.

His shirt was gone. His pants were around his knees. The white dress was pushed up to Sloane's waist, one of her heels still hanging from her ankle. Her hands clawed at his back.

The bucket of Krug sat open by the door. Two glasses. Both empty.

Glass shattered behind me. Julien Delacroix had dropped his flute.

"Oh my God," Celeste breathed. "Oh my *God*. That's—"

"That's his sister," a woman behind her said.

Mrs. Kerrigan grabbed her husband's sleeve. "Harold, we're leaving."

"Wait." He didn't move. He just stared.

Someone near the back turned and walked out without a word.

But most of them didn't leave.

They raised their phones.

Around me, cameras started recording. Marcus Osbourne already had his phone to his ear.

"Dad. Pull out of the Vale deal. No. Right now. I'll send you the video."

Through the glass, Sloane threw her head back. Her mouth opened. We couldn't hear her, but we didn't need to.

A girl near me covered her mouth and gagged.

"Vivienne." Celeste turned to me, white-faced. "Did you know? Did you *know* about this?"

I kept my eyes on the glass. "I found out on Tuesday."

"And you let them—"

"I gave them a quiet room," I said. "Everything else, they did on their own."

Inside, Adrian finished with a shudder and slumped against her. Sloane laughed and kissed his ear. He pushed himself up and grabbed his pants off the floor.

The hallway went so silent I could hear the ice settling in someone's glass.

Adrian zipped up. Buckled his belt. Ran a hand through his messy hair and grinned at something Sloane said.

Then he walked to the door and pulled it open.

Faces stared back at him.

His grin froze. Then it slid off his face, one inch at a time. His eyes jumped from Harold Kerrigan to the Delacroix twins to Marcus Osbourne, still holding his phone up and recording.

Behind him, Sloane screamed and grabbed for a cushion.

Adrian's eyes finally landed on me, front and center.

I lifted my champagne toward him.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Adrian."