My heart slammed against my ribs. Every instinct screamed at me to spin around, to face the threat, to put distance between myself and whoever had just materialized out of thin air.
I didn't.
Three years at the Velvet Lounge. Eighteen years in Kensington. You learn not to show weakness. You learn that the moment you flinch is the moment you lose.
I closed the book slowly. Then I turned around.
Sabrina Valentine was sitting in a window nook I'd completely missed.
How. HOW.
The nook was carved into the wall beside the arched window, partially hidden by a decorative curtain. An oversized armchair occupied the space, big enough to curl up in, positioned to catch the afternoon light.
She was curled up in it like a cat. Legs tucked beneath her. A steaming teacup cradled in her hands. A small plate of what looked like Japanese sweets, mochi maybe, rested on a side table within reach.
She wore a silk robe over her clothes. Deep purple. The color of her eyes.
And those eyes. Those purple eyes were locked onto mine with an intensity that made me feel like a bug under a microscope.
"You're very quiet."
She took a slow sip of her tea. Her gaze never left mine.
"The last one was a mouth-breather. I could hear him from the second floor."
"I try not to waste oxygen."
The corner of her mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. An acknowledgment.
"Economical. I suppose that comes with the territory."
She gestured toward the plate of sweets with her teacup. A casual motion. Like offering someone a stick of gum.
"Would you like one? They're from a little shop in Kyoto. Father used to have them flown in weekly. We still maintain the account."
I stared at her.
Flown in. From Kyoto. Weekly.
She says it like it's nothing. Like everyone has candy flown in from Japan on a regular basis. Like that's just a normal thing that normal people do.
The cost of shipping alone. International overnight delivery for SWEETS. Not medicine. Not important documents. Candy.
"No, thank you. I'm still on the clock."
Sabrina took a small bite of mochi.
"You're lying."
She chewed slowly. Thoughtfully. Those purple eyes never wavered.
"You're not refusing because you're on the clock. You're refusing because you've been taught not to accept things from people like us."
She tilted her head. The motion reminded me of a bird examining something interesting it found on the ground.
"You think there's a catch."
Sabrina finished the mochi. Picked up another.
"There's always a catch."
Her voice dropped to a murmur. Barely audible even in the library's silence.
"But sometimes, it's just a piece of candy."
She held it out toward me. A small pink ball of sweetness. An offering. A test.
Don't take it. Taking it means something. Everything in this house means something.
But refusing also means something. It means she's right about me. It means I'm predictable.
What's the play here?
I looked at the mochi. Looked at her.
Sabrina's expression hadn't changed.
"Keep it."
I put the book back on the shelf.
"I had a big lunch."
Another lie. I'd eaten a granola bar on the train and called it good.
Sabrina's lips curved. The closest thing to a smile I'd seen from her.
"Another lie. You eat like someone who's forgotten that food is supposed to be enjoyed. Quick. Functional. Whatever's cheap and available."
She set down her teacup.
"You had coffee this morning. Black, no sugar."
How does she—
"Your collar."
She answered the question I hadn't asked.
"The edge is slightly damp. You use instant coffee grounds as a stain remover because you can't afford dry cleaning. It works, but it leaves a residue. The scent is distinctive."
She picked up another mochi. Took a small bite.
"Also, you keep glancing at the sweets. Microexpressions. Hunger is difficult to hide."
She Sherlock Holmes'd my collar.
She deduced my entire morning routine from a COFFEE STAIN.
What the actual fuck.
I should leave. I should make some excuse and get out of this room before she dissected my entire life history from the lint on my jacket.
Instead, I heard myself ask:
"What else?"
Sabrina's eyes glittered. Interest. Genuine interest.
"You're eighteen but you carry yourself like someone older. Responsibility. Burden. Someone depends on you, and you've been carrying that weight for years."
She set down the mochi.
"You're intelligent enough to be at Hartwell on scholarship, which means top percentile academically. But you're tired. Constantly. The dark circles under your eyes aren't from one late night. They're chronic. You haven't slept properly in months. Maybe years."
She shifted in her chair. Drew her knees up higher.
"You work. Multiple jobs, probably. The calluses on your hands suggest manual labor, but your posture and the way you interact suggest service industry. Bartender, if I had to guess. Somewhere upscale enough to teach you how to talk to wealthy people without being intimidated."
Everything. She got everything.
From standing in a library for two minutes.
"The Velvet Lounge," I said.
No point hiding it. She'd probably figure it out anyway.
"Midtown. Tuesday through Saturday. Six to midnight."
Sabrina tilted her head again.
"And your sister. The one you won't bring to stay at the manor."
Don't react. Don't give her anything.
"What about her?"
"You love her."
No shit.
"The way you said 'she depends on me' during the interview but I didn't see any resentment."
She picked up her teacup. Took another sip.
"She's probably the only person in the world you actually care about."
"Is there a point to this?"
My voice came out harder than I intended.
Sabrina didn't flinch.
"Confirmation."
"Of what?"
"That you're interesting."
She unfolded from the chair. Stood. The silk robe shifted around her, revealing the dark clothes underneath. Same style as the interview. Layers. Coverage. Hiding.
She was shorter than I expected. The authority in her presence made her seem taller.
"My sisters will test you. Cassidy will try to break you. Harlow will try to befriend you. Vivienne will try to manage you."
She walked past me toward the door. Close enough that I could smell her perfume. Something subtle. Expensive. Probably also flown in from Japan.
She paused at the threshold.
"I'll be watching."
"And what are you trying to do?"
The question slipped out before I could stop it.
Sabrina looked back over her shoulder. Those purple eyes met mine.
"I'm trying to figure out if you're worth the trouble."
She was gone before I could respond. Silent as a ghost. Leaving nothing but the scent of her perfume and the lingering chill of her gaze.
I stood alone in the library.
Surrounded by books worth fortunes. Bathed in golden light through cathedral windows. The mochi still sitting on the plate, untouched, like bait in a trap I'd barely avoided.
I looked at the mochi.
There's always a catch. But sometimes, it's just a piece of candy.
Maybe.
Or maybe the candy is how she finds out what kind of person takes things from strangers.
I left the library without touching it.
The doors closed behind me with a soft click.
This one. This one is the most dangerous of them all.