By the next afternoon, Ivy had decided two things.

One: panic attacks were humiliating.

Two: Lucien sitting outside her bedroom door all night somehow made it worse.

Not emotionally.

Emotionally-adjacent.

Which was much more dangerous.

She stood in the kitchen aggressively slicing strawberries while trying not to think about it.

The knife hit the cutting board harder than necessary.

Marta glanced over briefly.

“You’re murdering fruit.”

“It knows what it did.”

“That is concerning.”

Ivy pointed the knife vaguely.

“He stayed outside my room all night.”

Marta continued stirring sauce calmly.

“Yes.”

“You say that like it’s normal.”

“For him? No.”

That answer made Ivy pause.

The strawberry in her hand slipped slightly beneath the knife.

Marta noticed immediately.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

Before Ivy could interrogate further, the kitchen doors swung open dramatically.

Matteo walked in wearing a charcoal suit and the expression of a man personally sponsored by bad decisions.

“Well,” he announced, loosening his tie. “I almost got shot twice today. Who missed me?”

“Nobody,” Marta answered instantly.

Matteo pressed one hand over his heart.

“Cruel.”

Then he saw Ivy beside the counter.

His entire face brightened immediately.

“There she is.”

Ivy narrowed her eyes.

“That sounded flirty.”

“It was flirty.”

“At least he’s honest,” Marta muttered.

Matteo crossed the kitchen and stole a strawberry directly from the cutting board.

Ivy slapped his hand with the flat side of the knife.

“Excuse you.”

“You wound me.”

“You touched my fruit.”

“That somehow sounded dirtier than intended.”

“It was exactly as dirty as intended.”

Matteo laughed softly and leaned against the counter beside her.

Close.

Too close.

“You look better today.”

Ivy kept slicing strawberries carefully.

“Wow. What a polite way to say ‘less mentally unstable.’”

“You had a rough night.”

“You people hear everything in this mansion?”

“The walls are thin.”

“The walls are marble.”

“Exactly.”

Ivy snorted despite herself.

Matteo watched her for another second.

Then:

“You know Lucien stayed outside your room until sunrise, right?”

The knife stopped mid-slice.

Marta suddenly became fascinated by soup again.

Traitor.

Ivy looked up slowly.

“…What?”

Matteo blinked.

“Oh. He didn’t tell you.”

“No, weirdly enough we skipped our morning emotional vulnerability meeting.”

“He canceled two calls.”

“What?”

“He never cancels calls.”

Ivy stared at him.

Matteo grabbed another strawberry while she was distracted.

Thief.

“He sat outside your room like a Victorian widower.” Matteo shook his head softly. “Honestly, it was unsettling.”

Ivy pointed the knife toward him again.

“You’re lying.”

“I gain nothing from this.”

“You gain entertainment.”

“That’s also true.”

The kitchen doors opened again.

And like some horrible ritual summoning—

Lucien walked in.

Silence hit immediately.

Matteo leaned casually against the counter.

Ivy suddenly became extremely focused on strawberries again.

Lucien stopped near the doorway.

Gray suit today.

No tie.

His sleeves rolled slightly upward like always when he’d been working too long.

His eyes landed on Ivy first.

Always first.

Then shifted slowly toward Matteo standing much too close beside her.

Something cold settled instantly across his expression.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

Matteo noticed too.

And the bastard smiled.

“Oh good,” he said lightly. “You’re here.”

Lucien’s gaze remained fixed on him.

“I can see that.”

Marta quietly escaped with the soup.

Coward.

Ivy continued chopping strawberries aggressively while pretending she wasn’t suddenly trapped inside the world’s weirdest emotional hostage situation.

Matteo grabbed another strawberry.

Lucien spoke immediately.

“Stop touching her food.”

The kitchen went silent.

Ivy looked up.

Matteo blinked once slowly.

Then a grin spread across his face.

“Oh.”

Lucien’s expression darkened slightly.

“Oh?” Ivy repeated suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Matteo answered quickly.

“That sounded extremely like something.”

Lucien crossed farther into the kitchen.

His attention stayed entirely on Matteo now.

“Don’t you have work?”

Matteo leaned comfortably against the counter.

“I was taking a break.”

“You’ve taken three.”

“Monitoring me now?”

“I’m correcting inefficiency.”

“Sure.”

The tension in the room shifted sharply.

Not violent.

Worse.

Personal.

Ivy looked slowly between them.

Then realization hit.

Hard.

“Oh my God.”

Neither man answered.

Ivy pointed directly at Lucien.

“You’re jealous.”

Absolute silence.

Lucien stared at her flatly.

“No.”

“You absolutely are.”

Matteo turned his face away suddenly.

Shoulders shaking slightly.

The traitor was laughing.

Lucien’s eyes narrowed.

“Ivy.”

“That’s crazy.” She pointed harder now. “You’re actually jealous over strawberries.”

“It’s not about strawberries.”

“THAT IS NOT HELPING YOUR CASE.”

Matteo fully lost the battle at that point and laughed openly into one hand.

Lucien looked at him with the expression of a man considering homicide as conflict resolution.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

Ivy crossed her arms.

“Oh my God. You hate sharing attention.”

Lucien stepped closer slowly.

The kitchen suddenly felt smaller.

“I don’t share problems.”

“I’m a problem now?”

“Yes.”

“That sounded weirdly honest.”

“It was meant to.”

Matteo muttered under his breath:

“Jesus Christ.”

Lucien ignored him completely.

His attention stayed fixed on Ivy.

And Ivy—

unfortunately—

noticed immediately how different his eyes looked today.

Less cold.

More tired.

More exposed after last night outside her room.

That awareness slid uncomfortably through her chest.

Abort mission immediately.

Matteo straightened slightly beside her.

Then deliberately—

very deliberately—

he reached over and brushed strawberry juice from Ivy’s thumb with his napkin.

Big mistake.

Huge mistake.

The entire room changed.

Lucien went still.

Completely still.

Not angry.

Far worse.

Cold.

The temperature in the kitchen seemed to drop ten degrees instantly.

Matteo noticed too late.

“…Ah.”

Lucien’s voice came quiet now.

Too quiet.

“Matteo.”

His cousin wisely stepped backward.

“Yes?”

“Get out.”

Ivy blinked.

“What?”

Matteo raised both hands immediately.

“Fair enough.”

“You’re banning him from the kitchen?”

Lucien looked directly at Matteo.

“Go.”

Matteo stared for one dangerous second longer.

Then—

slowly—

a smile spread across his face.

Not mocking.

Realization.

“Oh,” he murmured softly.

Lucien’s jaw tightened.

Matteo looked between both of them once.

Then laughed quietly under his breath.

“This is unbelievable.”

“What is?” Ivy demanded.

Matteo headed toward the doorway still smiling to himself.

Halfway there, he paused.

Then looked directly at Lucien.

“You’re in trouble.”

Lucien’s expression darkened instantly.

“Leave.”

Matteo finally disappeared into the hallway laughing softly under his breath.

Silence settled immediately afterward.

Ivy turned slowly toward Lucien.

He stood across the kitchen watching the doorway Matteo disappeared through.

Rigid.

Controlled.

But something sharp still moved beneath the surface.

“You really kicked him out over a strawberry.”

Lucien looked at her now.

“No.”

“Okay, right. The thumb thing.”

His eyes flicked briefly toward her hand.

Then away again.

Interesting.

“You flirt with him,” Lucien said quietly.

Ivy blinked.

“What?”

“You flirt with everyone.”

“That’s called having a personality.”

“It’s reckless.”

“It’s fun.”

“It encourages people.”

“To what? Enjoy conversations?”

Lucien stepped closer again.

The tension shifted instantly.

Different now.

Heavier.

“You don’t understand the effect you have on people.”

The words landed low and steady.

Too personal.

Ivy swallowed once before she could stop herself.

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“You are jealous.”

Lucien’s jaw flexed once.

No denial this time.

That somehow made it worse.

Ivy stared at him openly now.

“You hate this.”

“Yes.”

The immediate honesty shocked both of them slightly.

Lucien realized it first.

His expression hardened instantly afterward.

But too late.

Ivy already saw it.

Saw the possessiveness sitting quietly beneath all that control.

Saw the irritation every time Matteo got too close.

Saw the way Lucien looked at her like attention itself belonged to him.

And terrifyingly—

part of her liked it.

That realization hit like a car crash.

Absolutely not.

Lucien watched her expression change carefully.

Then quietly:

“You should finish cutting the strawberries.”

Ivy blinked.

“That’s your emotional recovery strategy?”

“Yes.”

“That’s honestly pathetic.”

Lucien almost smiled again.

Tiny.

Gone fast.

Still there.

He turned toward the doorway.

Then stopped halfway out.

Without looking back, he said calmly:

“Matteo is no longer allowed in the kitchen when you’re alone.”

Ivy stared at him.

“…You cannot be serious.”

Lucien walked out anyway.

The kitchen doors shut softly behind him.

Ivy stood motionless beside the cutting board for three full seconds.

Then finally whispered to herself:

“…I might actually be trapped inside a romance novel.”