52

Vivian's POV

I’d worn more clothing at the gynecologist’s office than this bikini covered. One wrong move, and I’d be flashing half the pool deck.

Meanwhile, Leonora had already tossed her clothes into the corner and slipped into her swimsuit before I even managed to untangle the scrap of fabric in my hands. She grabbed a pair of sunglasses from the dresser and headed for the door.

“I’ll meet you out there?”

I wasn’t sure if I was still caving to peer pressure or if I was genuinely this committed to helping Dorian with his sister, but somehow, I found myself nodding.

“Sure. I’ll be out in a second.”

Leonora stretched out on the wooden lounge chair beside mine, her pale skin already taking on a pink hue under the sun. She sighed contentedly.

“I love it here. I thought today was going to be awful, but it’s actually been really nice.”

Considering how the morning had started, I had to agree. “So, shopping was fun after all?”

She scoffed. “No. Well… yeah,” she admitted, rolling her eyes. “But it’s not just that. I like being here. The sun, the pool. Plus, I’m not on a plane back to Ireland, so that’s a win. I was half expecting Dorian to surprise attack me in my sleep and deport me.”

I laughed. “He wouldn’t do that.”

It was ironic coming from someone Dorian had kidnapped—not once, but twice. But Leonora didn’t know about that. Probably best to keep it that way unless I wanted him to ban me from talking to his sister altogether.

She snorted and rolled onto her stomach. “Yes, he would. He probably tried. I bet Adri talked him out of it. Adri’s the only reason I’m still here, I’m pretty sure.”

“Adrian?”

She nodded. “He was the only one who would talk to me on the phone. Dorian’s always too busy. I think Adri actually likes having me around. Dorian… not so much.”

It was hard to believe this was the same girl who had called me a bitch at breakfast. That morning, she’d been defensive, prickly, and impossible to talk to. Then I told her I liked her bra, and boom—instant best friends. I wished all relationships were that easy to fix.

“It’s not that Dorian doesn’t want you around,” I said carefully. “Things have just been… tense lately. He’s stressed.”

“Because of you?” she asked bluntly.

I hesitated. “It doesn’t have anything to do with me. Well, not really. I don’t—” I frowned. “I hope he’s not stressed because of me.”

I didn’t know enough about what was happening outside the walls of this house to be sure.

“Maybe you’re here to help him de-stress, then,” she said, cracking one eye open to wag her brows suggestively.

I pretended to gag. “Gross. You can’t say things like that about your brother.”

She smirked. “If it makes you feel any better, Dorian would get rid of me if he could. I’m just stuck here for now.”

“Yeah, right. You wouldn’t be here if Dorian didn’t want you here. My brother doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do.”

I groaned. “Is that the official family motto or something? Because I haven’t seen it carved into any walls yet.”

Leonora laughed. “It’s just the Delacroix way. The boys get to do whatever they want while I get hauled around and bossed around. No one cares what I want.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” she said, propping herself up on her elbows and gazing across the pool. I noticed, for the first time, that she and Dorian had the same nose. “No one asked if I wanted to leave a month after my dad died.” Her voice was quiet now, almost distant. “He died, and then I was ripped away from my brothers—who never called me, by the way. I spent five years in Moscow, but this house always felt like home. I always wanted to come back, but Dorian wouldn’t let me.”

I wanted to defend him. I didn’t know the whole story, but I knew enough. Things had been brutal for Dorian after his father was murdered—he had held the man in his arms as he died. But I also knew Leonora wouldn’t want to hear that right now. She’d shut down, push me away.

“That must have been really hard,” I said instead. “I can’t even imagine what it would be like to start over in another country after losing someone you loved. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

She gave me a tight smile. “Thanks.”

I was about to suggest that she tell Dorian exactly what she had just told me—maybe hearing each other’s perspectives would help mend things between them—but before I could, her phone vibrated.

She glanced at the screen, then jumped up. “I have to go meet someone.”

“Oh. Okay. Does your brother know where you—”

“Nice talk,” she called over her shoulder as she hurried toward the patio doors.

It could have been another insult disguised as a compliment… but I didn’t think so.

I smiled to myself. Maybe I’d have a friend in this house after all.