EMILIA
The dining hall smelled like polished wood and political tension.
Mirrored chandeliers reflected every sliver of movement, every diamond earring and wine glass raised just a little too deliberately.
I sat betweenVivienne KingsleyandCharlotte DuPont— two names that practically printed money.
Vivienne stirred her espresso with a silver spoon, not because she needed to, but because idle hands were for poor girls.
Charlotte was reapplying lip gloss with surgical precision, like she expected to be photographed any second.
They were flawless. Composed. Born and bred to run legacy families, or marry men who did.
And they were bored.
"I heard the Crow twins got into another fight," Vivienne said airily, not even looking up from her cup. "This time with those boys from House Marrow."
Charlotte raised a brow. “Did they win?”
Vivienne finally glanced at her. “Obviously. Bastion broke someone’s nose. Luca, I think, just watched.”
Charlotte sighed dreamily. “God, I forget howbigthey are until someone bleeds.”
I looked down at my plate, not saying anything.
“Tall,” Charlotte went on, “but not in that awkward, lanky way. Theyfilla room. Especially Bastion.”
“And the tattoos,” Vivienne added. “God, thosehands.Did you see Luca’s rings last week? He looks like a dynasty prince who forgot how to behave.”
“They’re both ridiculously attractive,” Charlotte murmured, chin in her hand. “And dangerous. It’s the combination. That sharp jaw, those scars…”
Vivienne leaned closer. “But theirmouths.The way they don’t smile unless they’re about to end someone? Delicious.”
I tried not to react.
Tried not to picture either of them standing shirtless in our bathroom that morning.
Luca with a towel low on his hips.
Bastion taking his shirt.
Their tattoos bold and unapologetic — full chest, knuckle ink, veined hands that looked like they were made for violence.
"They're the kind of hot you only survive once," Charlotte said, “Maybe.”
Vivienne gave a breathy laugh. “They’d wreck you and then vanish into the smoke of their family nightclub empire. Probably leave a black card on the nightstand.”
Charlotte grinned. “And a bruise shaped like a vow.”
That made me lift my eyes.
“She’s quiet,” Vivienne teased. “What do you think, Em? Ever had a fantasy about the Crow twins?”
I took a slow sip of water.
Felt the weight of it on my tongue before I answered.
And then I said lightly, “They’re just boys.”