Four Of A Kind

Chapter 64: [2.37] The Adequacy of a Four-Thousand-Dollar Man

I pulled up to Valentine Manor at 5:58 PM. Two minutes early. Vivienne would probably criticize me for not being five minutes early, but whatever. I killed the engine and grabbed my bags from the passenger seat. The new clothes sat in garment bags, pristine and expensive. The thought of what they cost still made my stomach twist, but at least I’d avoided Felix’s vision of turning me into a walking Sesame Street character.

The manor doors opened before I could knock. Mrs. Tanaka stood there with her usual serene expression, the kind that suggested she’d seen everything twice and wasn’t impressed either time.

“Good evening, Mr. Angelo.”

“Evening, Mrs. Tanaka.”

She stepped aside to let me enter. “Miss Vivienne is in the west sitting room. She requested your presence immediately upon arrival.”

Of course she did.

I made my way through the familiar hallways, my footsteps echoing off marble floors that probably cost more than my entire education. The sitting room door stood slightly ajar, warm light spilling into the corridor. I pushed it open.

Vivienne stood by the window, backlit by the evening sun. She wore a cocktail dress in deep emerald that caught the light when she moved, the fabric expensive enough that I could tell just by looking at it. Her wine-red hair fell in perfect waves over one shoulder. She’d clearly dressed for dinner somewhere that required actual effort.

She turned when I entered, her purple eyes scanning me with the intensity of a TSA agent who’d found something suspicious.

Then she stopped.

Blinked once.

Her gaze traveled from my new navy blazer down to the dark jeans and clean sneakers, then back up again. Her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something but the words got lost somewhere between her brain and her mouth.

This was new. Vivienne Valentine, speechless.

“It’s…” She paused, her fingers curling into the fabric of her dress. “Adequate.”

“Thanks,” I said, keeping my voice flat. “I’ll try not to let the overwhelming praise go to my head.”

Her cheeks colored slightly. Just a touch of pink against her porcelain skin. She recovered quickly, smoothing down her dress.

“The fit is appropriate for business settings,” she continued. “The color palette is versatile. The overall presentation suggests competence without ostentation.”

“I’m glad it meets your standards, Miss Valentine.”

She narrowed her eyes at the formal address but didn’t comment. Instead, she picked up a small clutch from the side table and checked her reflection in a nearby mirror.

“Are you prepared for this weekend? Our first full weekend arrangement begins tomorrow evening.”

Right. The dreaded overnight stays. Two weekends a month where I’d be stuck in this mansion instead of my apartment with Iris.

I’d already coordinated with Mrs. Delgado to check on her. The Kowalskis promised to bring her dinner. Iris herself had shooed me out the door this morning with a speech about self-sufficiency and how she wasn’t a baby anymore.

Still felt wrong leaving her.

“Yeah, I’ve got a bag packed. Everything I need.”

Vivienne’s gaze softened. Just for a second. “Your sister will be alright?”

Huh. Didn’t expect that.

“Neighbors are watching out for her.”

Vivienne nodded, turning back to the mirror to adjust an earring that didn’t need adjusting. “Good. I expect you here by six PM tomorrow. Dinner is at seven. Dress appropriately.”

“Will do.”

She walked past me toward the door, then paused. “The makeover was… successful. Well done.”

Before I could respond, she was gone, her heels clicking down the hallway in perfect rhythm.

I stood there for a moment, processing. Vivienne Valentine had almost complimented me. Twice. Either hell had frozen over or I’d actually managed to impress her.

Probably both.

I checked my phone. Three new messages.

Sabrina:did you get my ramen

Sabrina:extra pearls remember

Sabrina:🌹

Right. The boba mission. I’d stopped at Bubble Dreams on the way back, enduring Mira’s knowing smile when I ordered “the usual for Miss Valentine.” She’d written her number on the cup again. I’d pretended not to notice again.

I grabbed the carrier from where I’d left it in the kitchen and headed toward the east wing. Sabrina’s room was at the end of the hall, the door with no decorations or personality. Just dark wood and silence.

I knocked once, then remembered.

Sabrina had told me not to knock. Something about how knocking implied I thought she might be doing something she didn’t want interrupted, and she had no such shame.

Her exact words were: “If I’m in a state I don’t want you to see, I’ll tell you to leave. Until then, enter.”

I turned the handle and pushed the door open.

The room was dark, curtains drawn against the evening light. A single lamp burned on the nightstand, casting everything in amber shadows. Books still littered every surface, creating a labyrinth of literary chaos that somehow felt intentional.

Sabrina sat cross-legged on her bed in silk pajamas the color of twilight, a shade of purple so deep it looked almost black. The fabric caught the lamplight, creating shifting patterns across her skin. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders, and she was halfway through a cup of what looked like yesterday’s boba.

She looked up when I entered. Her purple eyes found mine, held them for a beat longer than normal.

Then her gaze dropped to my blazer. Traveled down. Back up.

“Huh,” she said.

I set the carrier down on the least cluttered section of her desk. “Two-times spicy Buldak ramen. Extra pearls in the boba. Lychee jelly because Mira knows what she’s doing.”

Sabrina uncurled from the bed with the grace of a cat waking from a nap. She padded across the floor in bare feet, the silk pajamas whispering against her skin. When she reached the desk, she picked up the boba cup, examining it like a jeweler appraising a diamond.

“You look different,” she said, still studying the cup.

“Got new clothes. Boss’s orders.”

“Vivienne has good taste when she wants to.” Sabrina took a long sip of the boba, her eyes closing briefly. “But that’s not it.”

I waited. Sabrina always got to her point eventually. Rushing her was like trying to hurry a glacier.

“You look like you belong now,” she continued, setting the cup down. “Before, you looked like someone pretending to fit in. Now you look like someone who doesn’t care if they fit or not. That’s more dangerous.”

I had no idea what to do with that observation. Sabrina had a habit of saying things that sounded profound but could also just be her messing with me. The uncertainty was probably the point.

“Dangerous how?”

She smiled. “You’ll see.” She picked up the ramen packet, turning it over in her hands. “Are you making this for me now or later?”

“I’ve got a tutoring session with Cassidy in twenty minutes. Can it wait until after?”

“No.”

Of course not. That would be too convenient.

“Fine. But I’m eating some too. Payment for services rendered.”

“Fair.”

I left her room and headed back to the kitchen, Sabrina following behind me like a particularly elegant shadow. Chef Laurent had left for the evening, but the kitchen gleamed with professional cleanliness. I found a pot, filled it with water, set it to boil.

Sabrina hopped up onto the counter beside the stove, her legs dangling over the edge. The silk pajamas rode up slightly, and I very deliberately focused on the water that was absolutely not boiling fast enough.

“What’s your plan with Cassidy?” she asked.

I glanced at her. “Why?”

“Because I’m curious. And because if you fail, Mother will fire you. If you succeed, Cassidy might actually graduate. Both outcomes interest me.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I didn’t say I doubted you. I said I was curious.” She tilted her head, wine-red hair spilling across her shoulder. “You’re different from the others. They tried to fix her. You’re trying to compete with her.”

How did she know that? We’d only made the bet yesterday.

Sabrina read my expression and her smile widened slightly. “Cassidy told Harlow. Harlow told me. Information moves quickly in this house when you know how to listen.”

The water started boiling. I added the noodles, watching them soften and separate in the rolling water.

“Competition works better than lectures,” I said. “Cassidy doesn’t respond to authority. She responds to challenges.”

“True. But you’re also gambling with your employment. Bold strategy.”

I added the sauce packet, the spicy aroma immediately making my eyes water. “Sometimes you have to risk the stable paycheck to actually earn it.”

Sabrina made a soft humming sound, like she was filing that statement away for later analysis. I poured the ramen into a bowl and handed it to her. Steam rose between us, carrying the scent of artificial spice and bad decisions.

She took the bowl with both hands, her fingers brushing mine briefly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

I made a smaller portion for myself, leaning against the counter opposite her while we ate in comfortable silence. The ramen was aggressively spicy, the kind that made you question your life choices with every bite.

Perfect.

“Isaiah,” Sabrina said after a while, her voice quiet. “Good luck with Cassidy. You’ll need it.”

She left the kitchen, silk pajamas whispering goodbye.

I stood there with my half-finished ramen, trying to process what just happened.

My phone buzzed.

Cassidy:library. now. bring ur A-game scholarship boy bc im about to destroy u

I looked at the remaining noodles in my bowl. Still too hot to finish quickly. But Cassidy was waiting.

I dumped the rest in the sink, rinsed the bowl, and headed toward the library.

Time to see if my new strategy would work.