Four Of A Kind

Chapter 79: [2.53] Eye Of The Valentine Storm

I stood in the hallway with Harlow in my arms, watching Sabrina disappear around the corner like she’d never been there at all. Great. Somehow I was now alone, carrying a sleeping Valentine sister who weighed about as much as a basket of laundry.

“Harlow,” I whispered, giving her a small jostle as I walked. “Wake up.”

She mumbled something and burrowed her face deeper into my neck. Her breath tickled my skin, warm and soft.

God, this was a terrible idea. If someone saw me like this—an employee carrying his sleeping teenage employer through the mansion at night—I’d be fired instantly. Or possibly shot. Did billionaires keep snipers on retainer? Probably.

Finding Harlow’s room wasn’t difficult. The door at the end of the hall was painted pale pink and covered with stickers of anime characters, K-pop idols, and sparkly hearts. Very subtle.

I nudged it open with my foot, careful not to bang Harlow’s head against the frame, and stepped inside. The room was exactly what I expected: a pink explosion that looked like someone had liquidated a Hello Kitty store and sprayed it across every available surface. String lights hung from the ceiling in looping patterns, casting a warm glow over the space. The king-sized bed was buried under approximately forty pillows and plushies, forming a small mountain of soft things.

“Harlow,” I tried again, louder this time. “We’re at your room.”

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

I approached the bed, wondering how to deposit her without waking her. Should I try to move the pillows first? But that would mean putting her down somewhere else, and I didn’t want to just… drop a billionaire heiress on the floor.

With a sigh, I carefully leaned over and tried to lay her on top of the pillow mountain. The moment her back touched the bed, Harlow’s arms tightened around my neck like a vise.

“No,” she mumbled, still mostly asleep. “Stay.”

“I can’t stay, Harlow. I have to go back to my room.”

Her grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it got tighter.

I tried to pry her fingers apart gently, but she was surprisingly strong for someone who looked like she subsisted entirely on bubble tea and pocky. Every time I loosened one hand, the other clamped down harder.

“Harlow, please,” I said, my voice strained as I leaned awkwardly over her bed, trapped in her grip. “This is ridiculous.”

“Warm,” she mumbled, pulling me down further.

I lost my balance and toppled forward, catching myself with my hands on either side of her head to avoid crushing her. Now I was essentially hovering over her on all fours, my face inches from hers, her arms still locked around my neck.

This was bad. This was very, very bad.

Her eyes fluttered open.

Even worse.

Harlow looked up at me, her purple eyes focusing slowly as she came awake. Instead of screaming or pushing me away, a slow smile spread across her face.

“Hi,” she said softly.

“Hi,” I whispered back, my face still hovering inches above hers.

Her smile widened. “You carried me all the way here. So strong, Assistant-kun.”

“You wouldn’t wake up,” I explained, trying to maintain what little professional dignity I had left while suspended above my employer like some kind of creep. “Sabrina told me this was standard procedure.”

“Sabrina’s always right,” Harlow giggled, her arms still locked comfortably around my neck. “Did I make cute sleeping noises? Vivi says I make little puppy sounds.”

Good god, why was she asking me this?

“Can you, uh, let go of me now?”

Her eyes widened with mock innocence. “But what if I don’t want to?”

I stared at her, caught completely off-guard by the directness of her question. Her purple eyes sparkled in the fairy light glow of her bedroom, and I became acutely aware of how warm she felt, how easy it would be to just…

Absolutely not. Hard pass. Train to nopeville, departing immediately.

“Harlow,” I said, my voice coming out more strained than I intended. “It’s nearly midnight. I need to sleep. You need to sleep. Separately. In different rooms. On opposite sides of this unnecessarily large house.”

She pouted but finally released her death grip on my neck. I straightened up quickly, putting a safer distance between us.

“Fine,” she sighed dramatically. “But only because you asked so nicely.” She sat up on her mountain of pillows and plushies, hair slightly mussed from sleep. “You’re different from the others, you know.”

“The other assistants?” I asked, already backing toward the door.

“Mm-hmm.” She nodded, pulling a pink fuzzy blanket up around her shoulders. “They were all so… boring. Like cardboard people trying to be what they thought we wanted.”

I paused at the door, my hand on the knob. “And what do you want?”

Her smile turned softer, more genuine than I’d seen before. “Someone real. Someone who doesn’t pretend.”

The simplicity of her answer caught me off guard. For all her manic energy and chaotic behavior, there was something disarmingly honest about Harlow Valentine.

“Goodnight, Harlow,” I said finally.

“Goodnight, Isaiah,” she replied, her voice already thick with returning sleep. “See you for croissants.”

I closed the door quietly behind me and leaned against it, exhaling slowly. One Valentine sister safely delivered to bed without scandal or termination of employment. Three more to avoid until morning.

The hallway stretched empty before me, the manor quiet except for the distant ticking of what was probably some ridiculously expensive antique clock. I pushed off from Harlow’s door and made my way back toward the guest wing, mentally mapping the route to avoid getting lost.

“She’s attached to you already.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin. Sabrina stood in an alcove I would have sworn was empty seconds ago, the shadows somehow clinging to her like a second skin. She wore the same burgundy silk pajamas from earlier, a book tucked under one arm.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, my heart hammering in my chest. “Do you just… materialize wherever you want?”

“Yes.” She tilted her head slightly. “Did she wake up?”

“Briefly.” I glanced back toward Harlow’s closed door. “Does this happen often? The carrying her to bed thing?”

“More often than you’d think.” Sabrina’s expression remained unreadable. “She falls asleep in strange places. The kitchen. The library. Once in the Japanese garden during a rainstorm.”

“And someone always carries her back?”

“Usually Vivienne. Sometimes me, if I’m feeling charitable.”

“Never Cassidy?”

A ghost of a smile touched Sabrina’s lips. “Cassidy tried once. They both ended up in the fountain.”

I laughed. “Why am I not surprised?”

Sabrina studied me for a moment, her purple eyes reflecting the dim hallway lights. “Well, goodnight.”

“Night.”

And then she was gone, rounding a corner and disappearing from view.

With a weary sigh, I continued my journey back to the guest suite. At least I’d be able to sleep in tomorrow. Small mercies.

My phone buzzed in my pocket as I reached my door. A text from Iris.

Still alive? it read. Or have they sacrificed you to their billionaire god yet?

No sacrifices yet, I typed back. But I’ve been drafted into some kind of weird sibling thing.

Sounds fun! A pause, then another text. Did you put on a shirt for coffee this morning?

I rolled my eyes. Yes, Iris. I maintained full coverage at all times.

Good! No seducing billionaire heiresses until AFTER you sign the employment contract.

I’m blocking your number.

Love you too, big brother! ♥

I smiled despite myself as I pushed open the door to my suite. The room was exactly as I’d left it, but somehow the staff had been in to turn down the bed and leave a small chocolate on each pillow. Rich people really lived differently.

I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and collapsed onto the bed, not even bothering to change out of my clothes. The mattress was sinfully comfortable, enveloping me like a cloud. If I didn’t set an alarm, I might sleep for days.

Just as my eyes were drifting closed, my phone buzzed again. I groaned and reached for it blindly, expecting another text from Iris.

Instead, it was Cassidy.

Tomorrow. Library. 10am. Bring your chips, Scholarship Boy. I’ve been practicing.

I stared at the message, trying to parse what it meant. Chips? Oh right—our makeshift math tutoring system. She’d been practicing algebra? That was… unexpectedly dedicated.

Before I could respond, another text came through.

And don’t think I didn’t notice you carrying Harlow to her room. What kind of assistant does she think you are?

I frowned at my phone. How did she even know that? Had she been watching us? The Valentine house was starting to feel like some kind of bizarre surveillance state.

The kind who follows instructions, I typed back. Your sister Sabrina told me to do it.

Her reply came almost instantly: Of course she did. Don’t let her manipulate you. She’s the worst of us.

Noted. Can I go to sleep now?

Whatever. Just be ready to lose tomorrow.

I set my phone down and rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling. The Valentine sisters were exhausting individually. Together, they were a category 5 hurricane of drama, money, and unprocessed family issues.

And somehow, I was now trapped at the eye of that storm for the entire weekend.