I followed Vivienne out of the library, watching her perfect posture as she glided down the hallway. Despite everything that had happened since last night—the museum kiss, the car confession, the hallway confrontation, the morning’s awkward breakfast—she still moved like she owned the entire universe and everyone in it.

Maybe she did.

"Enjoying the view?" She glanced over her shoulder, catching me staring.

"Just observing your ability to walk in those heels without breaking an ankle. It’s scientifically fascinating."

"Four years of ballet and a lifetime of my mother’s scrutiny will do that." She faced forward again, the slight tension in her shoulders betraying her discomfort.

We’d kissed last night. Twice. And now we were pretending it hadn’t happened because I’d stood in front of her and her sisters and declared myself a professional with boundaries.

Smart. Real smart, Angelo.

Vivienne led me into her study, a room I’d been in countless times before to organize her calendar and prepare briefing materials. Today it felt different—smaller, warmer, charged with something unspoken.

She sat behind her glass desk, gesturing for me to take the chair across from her. The sunlight streaming through the window caught in her wine-red hair, making it glow like embers. I forced myself to look away.

"I have the quarterly reports pulled up," Vivienne said, her voice carefully neutral. "Mother will want to discuss them in detail."

"And you want me here because..."

"Because you’ve helped prepare them, and your insight has been valuable." She straightened a pen that was already perfectly aligned with her notepad. "Nothing more."

"Right."

"Isaiah."

"Hmm?"

"I’m trying to respect your boundaries." Her purple eyes met mine directly. "But you’re making it difficult when you look at me like that."

I blinked. "Like what?"

"Like you’re remembering me in that bathroom stall."

Well, shit. I was.

"Sorry," I muttered. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

"Don’t apologize. Just..." She sighed. "Help me focus on work. Please."

"Alright. Let’s look at those numbers." I pulled my chair closer to her desk. "Show me what we’re dealing with."

For the next fifteen minutes, we managed to keep things professional. Vivienne walked me through sales figures, market projections, and PR metrics while I took notes and asked clarifying questions.

The Valentine empire was vast—fashion, cosmetics, perfume, accessories. Numbers with more zeros than I’d see in my lifetime.

"How much of this does your mother actually expect you to manage?" I asked.

"All of it." Vivienne tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I’m the heir apparent."

"At seventeen."

"Age is irrelevant in our world."

"It’s not irrelevant under labor laws."

She almost smiled. "Try telling my mother that."

Speaking of the devil—Vivienne’s laptop chimed with an incoming video call. The name "CAMILLE VALENTINE" appeared on screen in bold capitals.

Vivienne’s spine straightened impossibly further. Her face changed—the slight warmth vanished, replaced by a mask of cool professionalism that made her look five years older. She clicked "Accept."

Camille Valentine’s face filled the screen, perfect and terrifying in 4K resolution. Her platinum blonde hair was pulled into a sleek low ponytail, her makeup flawless despite the early hour in Milan.

"Vivienne." Her eyes shifted to me. "Mr. Angelo."

"Mother." Vivienne’s voice was perfectly modulated. "I have the quarterly reports ready for discussion."

"We’ll get to those." Camille’s gaze remained fixed on me. "I see your... guest from last night is still present."

I kept my face carefully blank. I’d faced down drunk Wall Street assholes at the bar. I could handle one terrifying CEO mother.

"Isaiah has been instrumental in preparing the data analysis," Vivienne said smoothly.

"Has he?" Camille raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow. "What an unusually versatile skill set for someone hired to tutor your sister in mathematics."

"I contain multitudes," I said, echoing Cassidy’s earlier words.

Camille’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Indeed. Tutoring, bartending, chemistry homework, museum appearances, and now financial analysis. One might wonder what you can’t do, Mr. Angelo."

"I’m terrible at knitting," I offered. "And I can’t whistle."

Vivienne shot me a warning look.

"I see you maintain your sense of humor. Vivienne, I’d like to discuss a modification to Mr. Angelo’s contract."

Here it comes. Option two from the menu of horrible choices. Vivienne had predicted this.

"What sort of modification?" Vivienne asked, her voice steady despite the whitening of her knuckles on the desk.

"I’m adding a morality clause." Camille’s eyes never left my face. "Specifically, that any romantic or sexual involvement with any member of the Valentine family will result in immediate termination."

"That seems excessive," I said, because apparently my survival instinct was on vacation.

"Does it?" Camille’s perfect red lips curved into something adjacent to a smile. "Let me be explicit. Last night was a spectacle that will not be repeated. The Valentine brand cannot afford to be associated with staff in a romantic context. It creates complications, rumors, and distractions from our business objectives."

"I’m not sure my personal life falls under your jurisdiction," I said.

"When you stand on a red carpet with my daughter, everything about you falls under my jurisdiction."

Vivienne cleared her throat. "Mother, Isaiah was simply doing what I asked."

"And therein lies the problem." Camille’s gaze shifted to her daughter. "You asked. He complied. The power dynamics make any romantic entanglement inappropriate at best and legally problematic at worst."

"I’m eighteen," I pointed out. "Legally an adult."

"And yet financially dependent on your position with our family." Camille’s expression was almost pitying. "A position that includes benefits for your sister, does it not?"

Low blow. My jaw tightened.

"Mother." Vivienne’s voice held a warning note.

"I’m simply stating facts, Vivienne." Camille turned her attention back to the papers on her desk. "Now, about those quarterly reports—"

"Before we move on," I interrupted, "I’d like clarity on something."

Camille looked up, clearly unaccustomed to being interrupted.

"You’re suggesting that I’m not good enough to be seen with your daughter outside a professional context," I said. "I’m curious about the specific metrics you’re using to make that determination."

Vivienne inhaled sharply beside me.

Camille’s expression didn’t change, but something shifted in her eyes. "It’s not a question of ’good enough,’ Mr. Angelo. It’s a question of alignment with our brand values and family legacy."

"So it’s my pedigree that’s lacking."

"Your background is irrelevant. The optics of my teenage daughter dating an employee are problematic regardless of who that employee might be."

"But especially problematic when that employee is a scholarship kid from Philadelphia."

A slight pause. "You seem determined to put words in my mouth."

"I’m trying to understand the situation clearly." I leaned forward. "Because last night you threatened my sister’s academic future if I didn’t stay away from your daughters. That seemed personal rather than professional."

Vivienne’s head snapped toward me.

Camille’s expression remained calm. "I simply outlined potential consequences of inappropriate behavior."

"By threatening a fourteen-year-old girl?" Vivienne’s voice rose slightly.

"I made no threats. I merely pointed out that Mr. Angelo’s conduct could reflect poorly on his family."

"That’s textbook threatening," I said.

"That’s reality," Camille countered. "Actions have consequences. As someone responsible for a minor, you should understand that better than most."

She wasn’t wrong, which just pissed me off more. I glanced at Vivienne, whose face had gone from professionally neutral to openly angry.

"Mother, that was unnecessary," she said. "Isaiah has been an exceptional employee. His private interactions with me—"

"Are exactly the problem," Camille cut in. "Private interactions lead to complications. Complications lead to distractions. Distractions lead to mistakes. The company cannot afford mistakes, especially now."