"Sean, wait," she called. "I want to ask you something."

He turned and looked at her with a cautious expression, "What?"

​​

"I want to do an internship at the company," she said. "One of my father's friends still works there, and I can learn a lot from him. And, of course, from your people too."

"You want to do an internship?" Sean asked, disbelief in his voice. "I thought you wanted to run it."

"Eventually," she said. "But I know I don't have the necessary experience to take it over. Once I learn more, I'll manage it. But even then, as soon as Samuel is ready, he can take it over."

Sean raised an eyebrow at her.

"I just want to be a designer," she said. "The business world isn't for me. If it weren't for my father's legacy—I wouldn't want anything to do with the company's management."

"Well, why don't you just leave it to me?" Sean asked.

She shrugged, "It's my responsibility—not yours."

"Well then," he said. "I'll do my best to help you. But aren't you afraid I'll take over the company myself?"

"No," she said. "I'm not afraid."

"There's a fine line between courage and foolishness," he said, but his words didn't sound like a threat.

"I trust you," she said.

"I see," he replied.

Her heart hammered anxiously in her chest, "So can I take an internship there?"

He nodded, "Alright."

"Thank you," she said.

He turned and started walking back toward the house, with Catherine trailed after him. The sudden flood of relief she'd felt when he agreed had curdled into anger—she'd had to ask permission to intern at her father's own company. She looked at his proud figure ahead of her and felt her blood boil. She hated feeling like his property, but as long as he controlled the company, that wouldn't change.

***

Catherine woke to a text from an unknown number. She scanned the message in surprise—Sean's younger sister Iris wanted to have tea with her in London. She chewed her lower lip and read the message again. With a sigh, she agreed to meet Iris.

"What's wrong?" Sean asked, toweling his hair dry.

"Nothing," she shrugged.

He narrowed his eyes and looked at her.

"Just family drama," she said with a wave of her hand.

Once Sean left for work, she showered and dressed in a simple silky skirt and blouse. She slipped on a pair of sandals and grabbed a purse, and met Geoffrey at the car.

"Where are we going?" Geoffrey asked.

"To meet Sophia," she lied. "At the Savoy."

Geoffrey nodded, "I'll tell Sean."

Catherine bit her lip and climbed into the backseat of the car. Her stomach twisted in small knots on the way into the city—Sean had expressly forbidden her from seeing his family. If he knew that she was going to see Iris and not Sophia, he'd be furious. She dug her fingers into her palms and stared out the window. The early afternoon was golden and sunny with a clear blue sky, but in spite of the weather, she felt the dread rise in the back of her throat.

"Don't be silly," she whispered to herself. "What can she do to you?"

"What?" Geoffrey asked.

"Nothing," Catherine said louder. "Just thinking."

Geoffrey met her eyes in the rearview mirror, and Catherine quickly looked away. The car moved slowly through the London traffic—stopping at red lights and in clogged roundabouts. Though the sealed windows, she could smell the smoggy, thick air of the city. Her stomach churned.

"Are you okay, Mrs. Blair?" Geoffrey asked.

"Yeah," Catherine said. "Just a little warm."

Geoffrey pulled the car up to the valet, and Catherine stepped out, rushing toward the cool air of the hotel's marble lobby. She gave her name to an employee in a red jacket with large silver buttons, and then the man led her through the tea room and into a private room off to the side. Geoffrey followed right behind.

Iris sat in the private room, with her slim legs crossed at the ankle. She wore delicate heeled shoes and a short shift dress. Sunlight from the skylight poured down from the sky like a sign from heaven—but Iris's face was far from angelic.

"So glad you could make it," she said. "Though, you didn't tell me you'd be bringing a bodyguard."

"Geoffrey comes everywhere with me," Catherine said coolly.

"Yes, I imagine," Iris smirked. "Though I imagine my brother employs her to protect other men from you, rather than to protect you from any threat."

Catherine narrowed her eyes but didn't bother to reply. She sat on one of the white, upholstered chairs and looked at Geoffrey. Geoffrey glared at her as she tapped out a message on her phone—no doubt she was telling Sean that Catherine had lied.

"I want to talk to you privately," Iris said. "Woman to woman if you will. I don't need my brother's spies listening in." She snapped her long polished fingers and waved toward the door, "You can leave us now."

Geoffrey ignored Iris's orders.

"I said you could leave," Iris snapped. She turned to Catherine and shook her head, "Things in my brother's home are slipping."

Catherine sighed, "It's okay, Geoffrey. You can wait outside. There are no other exits to this room."

Geoffrey glowered at her, but she exited the room without another word. Iris leaned forward—a diamond tennis bracelet glittered on her thin wrist as she poured herself a cup of plain tea. She took a sip of the steaming liquid and smiled.

"Help yourself, Catherine," she said, gesturing at the tower of small pastries and sandwiches. "Personally, I don't touch the stuff—it's full of sugar. But that's not something you worry about."

Catherine rolled her eyes, "Did you invite me here to insult my figure? Or did you have something to tell me?"

"I don't know why my brother loves you," Iris said, looking Catherine up and down. "You don't have a good figure or good features, and your personality—well, I don't have the time to comment on that. But worst of all, you're in love with another man."

Catherine's heart thudded against her ribs—Sean loved her? She shook her head, wondering if she'd misheard Iris.

"It puzzles me too," Iris said, smirking.

Catherine blushed, realizing she'd accidentally spoken her thoughts out loud again. She bit her lip as her mind raced. Surely Iris was mistaken—she was Sean's younger sister, but the two didn't seem close—but then, why would she say something like that if she didn't mean it?

"Well, I'm sorry I'm not Pearl," Catherine said. "But he had his chance to choose her, and he didn't."

"You did something to him," Iris snapped. "I know you did, and I'm going to find out what."

"Well, good luck figuring that out," Catherine said, reaching for her bag. "And do let me know exactly how it was I enchanted your brother—I'm so curious."

"Oh, I will," Iris said, eyes flashing. "The whole world will know that you're a scheming whore who sank her claws into my brother to bleed him dry."

"Right," Catherine said. "Except I haven't spent a dime of his money—I have my own, you know."

"Don't make me laugh," Iris said. "I know your precious little Feather Textile Corporation is collapsing."

Catherine froze and sank back onto the sofa, "How do you know that?"

"Oh, I know lots of things," Iris said, coyly running her finger along the rim of her teacup. "Things about you, about what happens in my brother's house, things about Marco. I know things even you don't know—wouldn't you like me to tell you?"

"Make it quick then, Iris," Catherine said. "I'm not in the mood to play."

She reached for the tea tray and poured herself a steaming cup of tea. The July sun beat down through the atrium ceiling, and she was desperately thirsty. As she raised the cup to her lips, she paused—a strange sense of foreboding twisted her stomach. She looked at Iris, serenely sipping from her mug, and shook her head. Living with Sean was making her paranoid—Iris might be a bitch, but she wasn't going to drug her sister-in-law's drink.