Lucian chuckles under his breath. Adrienne even smiles behind her glass.
I reach for my water glass and take a slow sip, glancing sideways at the girl who — hours ago — I had prepared myself to hate. She’s nothing like I expected. And even though I don’t fully trust it yet… I want to.
Dakota picks up a slice of bread from the basket and offers it to me first.
“Trust me,” she says. “The chef’s sourdough is basically a religious experience.”
I take the bread. It’s warm and fluffy. A perfect crunch on the outside with a light inside.
“That’s amazing.” I take a bite of duck. It's sweet, rich, and probably the most expensive thing I’ve ever eaten.
Dakota glances down at her plate. “I know this is weird. I’ve never had a sister before.”
“Me neither,” I admit. Maeve has always been like a sister to me, but this was official.
Her smile softens. “Well… then maybe we can figure it out together?”
I meet her eyes. There’s nothing fake there. Just honest, maybe slightly awkward, hope.
I nod slowly. “Yeah. Maybe we do.”
Lucian exhales, his shoulders dropping, and for the first time all night, I realize my shoulders aren’t as tense. Adrienne even has a faint smile as she reaches for a second pour of wine.
The conversation shifts after that, less stiff, less formal. Dakota asks what I think of the house so far, and I tell her about the painting in the hallway that I swear moved the first time I walked by. She laughs, snorting a little before she covers her mouth with a hand.
“Oh my god,” she says. “That one creeped me out as a kid, too. I used to run past it every time I had to go to piano lessons.”
“I knew it. It’s haunted.”
Lucian chuckles under his breath. “It’s eighteenth-century. Not haunted, just expensive.”
“I don’t think those are mutually exclusive.” Dakota nudges me and winks.
Adrienne stays mostly quiet, but there's no more frost in her gaze, just quiet observation. Occasionally, she makes a small comment—about the menu, about Dakota’s weekend schedule—but she’s not hostile. Just distant. Reserved. And right now, I can live with that.
“Do you like school? Are you good at it?” Dakota asks.
“I mean, it was hard with my situation.” I take a much-needed drink of water.
“You already seem smart.” Her voice is sincere. “And I bet you’re crazy brave, too. Just walking in here tonight, knowing you’d be sitting across from strangers. I’d be freaking out.”
“I kind of am,” I admit.
After dessert—some fancy, sculpted thing with chocolate ganache and gold flakes that looked more like art than food—we linger around the table, sipping drinks and trading a few stories. Nothing too deep. But it’s something. It’s more than I expected.
Eventually, Lucian rises. “I have a call in five,” he says, looking to Adrienne with a nod.
She rises gracefully, her napkin folded with precision. She leans over to kiss Dakota’s cheek, then nods at me. “Good night, Isobel.”
“Good night.”
As she disappears through a side hallway, Lucian turns to me. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Yeah. Okay.” I nod.
He pauses. “I’m glad you came.”
Then he’s gone.
