Harper shrugged, eyes wet. “Doesn’t matter. Once a rumor starts, it spreads. I’m afraid the mothers are gonna pull their kids from my class.”
I couldn’t breathe for a second. The old, helpless shame curled in my gut, but this time I didn’t let it win. I reached over and grabbed her hand. “You have to tell Juliet.”
Harper looked up, startled. “I hate to stress her with her pregnancy and all.”
“She’s in charge of the pack, just like Bronc, right? It’s her job to stop this kind of shit.” I squeezed her hand. “She’s a badass, Harper. She’s not going to let them treat you like this.”
Harper shook her head. “I don’t want to cause trouble. I just want them to leave me alone.”
I wanted to scream. Instead, I leaned in. “You’re not causing trouble. You’re standing up for yourself. You’re the best person I know, Harper. The strongest. If you want me to go to Juliet for you, I will. Or I’ll take it to Arsenal. If he handles it, there won’t be anyone left standing.”
She smiled, watery but real. “Maybe you’re right. If he gets wind of this, nobody is safe. Juliet is my best bet. Thanks, Brie.”
We sat for a while, just holding hands, until the door opened and Lysander swept back in, arms loaded with takeout and his phone clamped between his ear and shoulder.
“Lunch, and drama,” he said, dropping poke bowls on the desk. “I just had to take a call from Mother. That’s always a delight.”
He winked at Harper, who wiped her eyes and smiled. “You okay, darling?” he asked.
She nodded, and I felt the simmering rage settle to a slow boil. Lysander set out food, regaled us with stories about his mother’s mafia-level negotiation skills, and the moment passed.
But I didn’t forget.
By the time Harper left to check on her own studio, I’d already drafted a mental letter to Juliet. I wasn’t going to let anyone bully my big sister.
Harper was a survivor.
And I was going to make sure she stayed that way.
I spent the next hour pretending to work, but I was really just stewing over what those pack women had said about Harper. Every time I tried to focus on the guest list, my brain kept replaying the look on her face—shock first, then resignation, then that awful, brittle little smile as she tried to wave away the hurt. It made my hands shake so bad I nearly cracked the handle off my coffee mug.
Lysander was an ace at reading a room. When Harper left, he set aside his phone, came to perch on the edge of my desk, and asked, “You want to talk about it, or just plot revenge in silence?”
I gave him a grateful smile. “How do you do that?”
“Years of fending off New York galleristas, darling. I can spot a mood shift at fifty paces.” He reached over and squeezed my shoulder—a nothing gesture, but it sent a bolt of relief through me. “You know you’re not responsible for her sadness, right?”
I tried to believe it, but the guilt was baked too deep. “She’s my sister. I’m supposed to protect her.”
Lysander leaned over my desk, taking my hand. “Then do. Use the tools you have. Slander works both ways, and I can be very, very mean.”
I laughed, the sound coming out raw. “You’re dangerous, Lys.”
He grinned. “That’s why you like me.”
The gallery’s front door buzzed—a sound no one else would notice, but which sent a flicker up my spine.
From my office, I could look right down onto the main floor. Gunner stepped through the vestibule, boots echoing on the new hardwood, head swiveling with the laser focus of a man on patrol. His hair was a little wild,his jaw stubbled with red-gold, and his eyes were so dark with purpose they looked black from up here.
I caught my breath.
Lysander quickly let go of my hands. “And there’s your man.”
I nodded. “He doesn’t like surprises.”
Gunner paused beneath the glassed-in mezzanine, looking up at me. I raised a hand in a tiny wave; he didn’t smile, but he did tip his head, just enough for me to know he’d seen me. Then he scanned the rest of the gallery, a perimeter check worthy of a Secret Service agent. When he was satisfied, he started up the stairs.
Lysander, ever the strategist, gathered his stuff and said, “I’ll go check on the lighting downstairs. You two need a minute.”
