Elena's thumb hovered over the keyboard, the glow of her phone screen the only light in the dim library. The journal lay closed on the table beside her, Amara's words still burning in her chest. Amor. Eros. The Velvet Rope. Pieces of a puzzle she hadn't asked to find.

She typed quickly, before she could second-guess herself.

I'll do it. The auction. Send me any other details, and I'll be there.

Her finger hovered over the screen for one last second before she pressed send. This was a choice. A real one. She knew exactly what accepting his offer meant—stepping deeper into the web, closer to answers others had never intended her to find. But she was done letting uncertainty decide for her. If this was the path that led to the truth, then she would walk it.

She pressed send.

The phone buzzed almost immediately. Excellent. I'll have my assistant send over the remaining details and arrangements. I’m delighted to have you, Elena. I think you'll find the collection quite exceptional.

She exhaled, slipping the phone into her pocket as she stood. The library felt smaller than it had an hour ago, the shelves pressing in like they knew what she'd been reading. She ran her fingers along the spine of the Renaissance painting book, making sure the journal was hidden well behind it, then turned and headed for the door.

The manor was quiet in the way old houses get quiet—settled, watchful, full of creaks that could be footsteps if you let your mind wander. She moved down the main staircase, her hand trailing the polished banister, and cut through the back hallway toward the kitchen. Marta was at the counter, chopping vegetables, and looked up with a warm smile.

"Going out, dear?"

"Just down to the beach. Lisa's out there."

Marta nodded, returning to her work. "Dinner in a couple of hours. I'll keep it warm if you're late."

"Thank you, Marta."

The back door opened onto a stone patio that gave way to a winding path. The air smelled heavier of salt water and wet earth, and Elena filled her lungs with it, letting the tension in her shoulders ease a fraction. The sea rolled out before her, grey-blue and endless, the Briar Rose bobbing gently at the dock.

Lisa was already there, perched on the edge of the dock with her feet dangling over the water. Victor stood a few feet back, arms crossed, his broad frame planted like he'd grown out of the wood. He was saying something that made Lisa laugh—that sharp, delighted sound she made when she was genuinely amused rather than performing.

"—and then he said, completely serious, that he'd have to consult his team about whether the font choice was 'on-brand' for his aura." Lisa's voice carried over the breeze. "His aura, Victor. He's twenty-two and he talks like he's the Dalai Lama of graphic design."

Victor didn't smile, but something shifted in his face—a softening around the eyes that was almost amusement. "And you still took the job."

"Girl's gotta eat." Lisa shrugged, then spotted Elena approaching. "There she is! Took you long enough. I was starting to think you'd gotten lost in that library of yours."

Elena stepped onto the dock, the wood creaking beneath her. "Had a lot of homework to catch up on." She settled onto the edge beside Lisa, the planks warm from the afternoon sun despite the clouds. "I'm excited to take on the job, actually."

"The auction thing?" Lisa's eyebrows rose. "You're doing it?"

"Yeah. He sent over the collection files, and I've been going through them. It's good work. Really good." She kept her voice light, careful. None of what she'd found in the journal—none of the Amor connections, none of the routes leading to the Velvet Rope—made it into her tone. "I'm excited to take it on."

"Look at you, professional curator lady." Lisa nudged her shoulder. "Getting paid to look at pretty things. Living the dream."

"Something like that."

The water lapped against the dock pilings, a steady rhythm that filled the silence between them. Victor had moved to the edge of the dock, his eyes scanning the horizon with the practiced stillness of a man who was always watching, even when he seemed relaxed. Elena wondered what he saw out there—threats, probably. Perimeters. Angles of approach.

"So," Lisa said, drawing out the word, "you work for the big scary Thorn. What's that like? Does he make you sign blood oaths? Wear matching suits?"

Victor glanced at her, one eyebrow lifting a fraction. "Mr. Thorn is a fair employer."

"Fair. That's a word for it." Lisa grinned, leaning back on her hands. "I bet he's one of those guys who's all business until he's not, you know? Like, one minute he's talking quarterly reports, and the next he's—"

"Lisa." Elena's voice came out sharper than she intended.

Lisa held up her hands, still grinning. "Fine, fine. No speculation about the boss. Got it." She turned back to Victor, undeterred. "What about you? You've been with the family a while, right?"

"Yes."

"That's not much of an answer."

“That’s all you’re getting.”

Lisa laughed again, and Elena felt something loosen in her chest. This was normal. This was the kind of afternoon she'd have had with Lisa before all of this—before Liam, before the debt, before the web of secrets she was still untangling. She let herself sit in it, the sun warm on her face, the salt breeze tugging at her hair.

They talked for a while longer. Lisa launched into a detailed story about a client she'd been working with—"this young, pretty blond boy, bossy as hell, demands half the world in his requests"—and Victor listened with the same patient attention he gave everything, occasionally offering a dry comment that made Lisa cackle.

"I swear to god," Lisa said, "if he asks me to make his logo 'pop' one more time, I'm going to pop him. In the face. With a stapler."

Victor glanced at her. "What does he actually want?"

"That's the problem. He doesn't know." Lisa threw her hands up. "Everything has to be exactly his way, but he can't seem to explain what his way is. I'll send him three versions, he'll reject all of them, and then send me back to the first one."

"Sounds difficult."

"Difficult?" Lisa scoffed. "He's impossible. And he's got this thing about appearances. Everything has to look expensive, important, intimidating—whatever he thinks makes him look like the most powerful man in the room."

Victor was quiet for a moment. "And you keep working for him."

"Because he pays well," Lisa said immediately. "I'm not stupid."

Elena smiled, pulling her knees up to her chest. The Briar Rose swayed gently at the end of the dock, and she found her gaze drifting to it. The boat where everything had changed. Where she'd given herself to him on their way back, and he'd held her after, and she'd told him she loved him and he hadn't said it back.

She looked away.

"Hey," Lisa said, her voice softening. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Just tired." Elena stretched, forcing a smile. "Long week."

"Tell me about it. I've been staring at a screen for three days straight." Lisa flopped back onto the dock, arms spread wide. "God, what I wouldn't give for a night in. Popcorn, a blanket, some stupid action movie where things explode, and nobody has to think."

Elena opened her mouth to agree, then stopped. She tried to picture the manor as Lisa had described it—somewhere comfortable where they could collapse onto a couch, turn on a television, and let the evening disappear.

But the image didn't fit Thorn Manor.

There were sitting areas in the grand hall and dining room, the library or pool for relaxation, and the billiards room for some games. But she couldn't remember seeing a television anywhere.

She turned to Victor, frowning. "Actually—does the manor even have a TV?"

Victor's expression didn't change, but something in his posture shifted. "No."

"At all?"

"Mr. Thorn never cared for televisions." Victor's voice was flat, matter-of-fact. "Felt they were a waste of time."

Lisa sat up, her face falling. "No TV? How do you even live here?"

"There's the library," Elena offered.

"The library is where you go to do homework, not to watch explosions." Lisa turned her best puppy-dog eyes on Victor. "You're telling me there's nowhere in this entire estate to watch a movie?"

Victor was quiet for a moment, and Elena got the sense he was weighing something. Then he said, "I suppose there is one other option."

Lisa blinked. "Oh?"

"Mr. Thorn's opinions on entertainment. I don't share them." Victor uncrossed his arms, hooking his thumbs into his belt. "I have a TV at my place. If you want to watch something."

The shift in Lisa was immediate—her whole face lit up, like someone had plugged her into a socket. "Yes. Absolutely. We would love to." She grabbed Elena's arm. "Right? We'd love to?"

Elena laughed, caught off guard. "I mean—if Victor doesn't mind—"

"I don't mind."

"Then yes. Yes, we'd love to."

Lisa scrambled to her feet, already brushing sand off her jeans. "This is happening. Movie night at Victor's place. I need to change into something comfy."

Victor's mouth did that twitch again—not quite a smile, but close. "Dinner first."

"Dinner first," Lisa agreed, already heading up the path. "But then—movie. With popcorn. And blankets." She paused, looking back. "You have blankets, right?"

"I'll manage."

"Good. Because I'm going to need a blanket. And possibly a pillow. Do you have pillows?"

"Lisa," Elena said, catching up to her. "Let the man breathe."

"I'm just making sure we're prepared. A good movie night requires preparation."

Victor followed at a measured pace, and Elena fell into step beside Lisa. By the time they reached the manor, Lisa was already debating which movie they should watch first.

Dinner came before any decisions could be made.

Marta had prepared roasted chicken with rosemary potatoes, glazed carrots, and a simple green salad, served in the small dining room off the kitchen rather than the grand hall. The room was warmer there, more intimate, the three of them gathered around a table that could have seated twelve. Lisa kept up a running commentary on everything from the food to the decor to the way Victor ate his bread ("You're very methodical about it. It's kind of fascinating."), and Victor fielded her observations with the same unshakeable calm he brought to everything.

Elena found herself relaxing into it. The chicken was tender, the potatoes crisp at the edges, and the wine was better than she expected. For a little while, she could pretend she was just a woman having dinner with her best friend and a friend's colleague, with no secrets pressing against her ribs.

After dinner, they headed upstairs together. Lisa followed Elena into her room. The bathroom gave them plenty of space to get ready, and before long the room filled with the familiar sounds of water running and Lisa talking about absolutely nothing in particular.

Elena changed into soft flannel pajamas—worn, comfortable, a world away from the silk things Liam had bought her—while Lisa took a little more time with her own appearance.

When Elena glanced over, Lisa was smoothing the front of a matching burgundy pajama set, her freshly brushed hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. She'd even put on lip gloss.

Elena raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Lisa said, catching her look. "It's been a long day. I want to look decent."  Lisa grabbed her overnight bag and slung it over her shoulder. "Come on. I want to see what shows pass for entertainment around here."

They headed toward the back stairs, Lisa adjusting one of the sleeves of her pajama top as they went.

Victor's cottage sat just up a path east of the back manor grounds, a low stone building tucked behind a row of hedges. Warm light spilled from the windows, and as they approached, the front door swung open before they could knock.

"Come in," Victor said, stepping aside. He'd changed too—out of his usual dark suit and into jeans and a simple grey sweater that softened his edges. It was the most casual Elena had ever seen him, and it made him look almost approachable.

They stepped inside, and Elena stopped.

The cottage was cozy in a way she hadn't expected. A large sectional dominated the main room, facing a decent-sized television mounted on the wall. A lounge chair sat angled toward the screen, a worn leather thing that looked like it had been broken in by years of use. A throw blanket hung over its back, and a stack of books sat on the side table.

An archway led to what she assumed was the kitchen, and she could see the edge of a counter, a coffee maker, a dish rack. It was a home. A real home, lived in and loved, not a showpiece.

"This is nice," Elena said, and she meant it.

Victor looked around the room, his expression softening almost imperceptibly. "It is. I've always liked this place."

Lisa wandered farther into the room, taking in the worn leather couch, the shelves along the wall, and the warm light spilling across the wood floors. "It feels different from the manor."

"That was the idea." Victor glanced toward the windows overlooking the grounds. "The manor can be impressive, but this was always meant to be comfortable. Somewhere you could actually relax."

Lisa dropped onto the couch and sank into the cushions. "Well, whoever designed it knew what they were doing."

Victor smiled faintly. "They did."

Elena noticed the way his eyes lingered on the room for a moment before he looked back at them.

Lisa leaned against the back of the couch. "I can see why you like it here."

"I've spent a lot of years here," Victor said. "It has a way of becoming yours after a while."

Lisa nodded, looking around again. "Yeah. I get that."

Victor shook his head, moving toward the archway. "What kind of show do you want?"

"Action," Lisa said immediately. "Something fast-paced. Something that doesn't make me think too hard after the day I've had."

Victor glanced back at her. "So, no World War 1 documentaries."

"Absolutely not! I want something where I can sit there, eat something, and cheer when the good guy wins."

"That narrows it down considerably,"  Victor said with a bit of sarcasm in his voice.  

"I know what I like," Lisa said. "Fast, loud, and preferably with a hero who doesn't spend half the film talking about his feelings."

Victor's mouth twitched. "Apparently you do. Now give me a few to make some popcorn and we can get started."

Elena settled onto the couch, pulling her knees up and tucking her feet beneath her. The cushions were soft, worn in exactly the right places. She could hear Victor moving around in the kitchen—the clink of glass, the hum of a microwave—and a moment later he emerged with a large bowl of popcorn and two soft blankets draped over his arm.

"Here," he said, setting the bowl on the coffee table and handing each of them a blanket. "In case you get cold."

Lisa took the bowl from him. "You know, you're already growing on me."

Victor gave her a look. "Because I gave you food?"

"And access to a television. Try not to let it go to your head, hero."

Victor settled into the lounge chair, and for a moment, the three of them just sat there—Lisa curled up on one end of the couch, blanket pulled to her chin, Elena on the other, the bowl of popcorn between them. The TV flickered to life, the opening credits of some action movie filling the room with the sound of engines and gunfire.

Lisa cheered softly. "This is perfect."

Elena smiled and reached for a handful of popcorn. The blanket was warm, the couch comfortable beneath her, and the noise of the movie filled the room without demanding anything from her. For once, she didn't have to think about journals or drug routes or the message waiting in her pocket.

She could just sit.

The movie carried on. Lisa provided a running commentary, most of it completely unnecessary. Victor occasionally responded with some dry observation that made Lisa laugh. Elena laughed too, though after a while she wasn't sure what she'd missed.

The popcorn bowl slowly emptied. At some point, Elena pulled the blanket higher around herself and tucked her feet beneath her.

She watched the movie in pieces.

A car chase.

Lisa laughing beside her.

Victor saying something about how no vehicle could possibly survive a turn like that.

Then another scene, and Elena realized she'd missed the beginning of it.

Her eyes felt heavy.

She shifted against the couch, letting her head rest against the cushion. The room was warm, the low sound of the movie blending with Lisa's occasional laughter and Victor's deeper voice. She didn't remember the last time she'd been somewhere she could simply sit without waiting for something to happen.

Her eyes slipped closed.

She opened them again when Lisa laughed loudly at something on the screen.

"What did I miss?" Elena murmured.

"The hero almost died," Lisa whispered, as though this were a serious matter. "But he's fine."

"Of course he is."

Elena smiled and let her eyes close again.

The next thing she registered was the sound of the credits rolling.

Lisa stretched beside her. "That was terrible."

"You picked it," Victor reminded her.

"And I stand by my choice."

Elena blinked herself awake. Victor was already reaching for the empty popcorn bowl.

"Another one?" he asked.

Lisa settled deeper into the couch. "I could go for another. If you're not sick of us."

"I'm not."

Elena looked between them, still half lost in the warmth of the blanket. She knew she should probably go back to bed. There were things she needed to think about. The message. Sebastian. Everything she still didn't understand.

But none of it felt urgent right now.

"One more," she said.

Victor nodded and reached for the remote.

"I'll be right back," Elena said, pushing the blanket aside. "Bathroom."

She slipped through the doorway and into the small bathroom off the lounge. The light was softer in here, and the sudden quiet made her realize how tired she actually was.

She washed her hands, then paused at the mirror, rubbing the sleep from beneath her eyes.

As she turned to leave, something on the small shelf beside the sink caught her attention.

It was a little wooden box, no larger than her palm. The edges were worn smooth with age, and a thin line of faded flowers had been carved into the lid.

Elena picked it up.

On the bottom, written in careful, slightly faded handwriting, were four words.

For my Iris.

She frowned.

Iris.

The name felt familiar, though she couldn't place why.

She turned the box over in her hands, tempted to open it, but something about the inscription made her hesitate. It felt too personal. Too much like something she wasn't meant to touch.

Elena set it back exactly where she'd found it.

By the time she returned to the lounge, the second movie had already started.

Lisa glanced over. "You missed the opening."

"Tragic."

"Very. You'll have to trust me to explain it."

Elena smiled and pulled the blanket back over her legs.

She settled into the couch again, the little box already slipping from her thoughts as the movie filled the room.