"She could throw tantrums like confetti, but never at him."
The double doors of the Reed estate eased open with a soft click as Vivienne stepped inside, her heels tapping rhythmically on the marble tiles.
A silk scarf was knotted around her neck — bold red, matching the gloss on her lips. She dropped her tote beside the umbrella stand and let out a deliberately loud sigh.
"Brother? If I faint from hunger, it'll be entirely your fault."
Silence answered first — then the faint scrape of pen on paper.
She followed the sound into the study, already knowing what she'd find.
Lucian, in his usual place behind the desk. Collared black shirt, sleeves rolled to the forearm, silver cufflinks catching the light. His raven hair looked like it hadn't dared move since sunrise.
"You're early," he said without looking up.
"And you're still as emotionally animated as a Roman statue." She grinned, flopping into the armchair across from him — careful not to scuff the velvet with her boots.
He raised an eyebrow, eyes flicking up now.
Steel-blue and unreadable, but not unkind.
"Hungry?"
"Starving. I skipped lunch for a completely useless meeting with my advisor. He says I 'lack structure.'" She made air quotes. "I say I'm just creatively fluid."
Lucian reached for the intercom on his desk.
"Vivienne's home. Send up the tray."
She smiled at that — always the tray. Her favorite, even after all these years.
"Thank you," she said softly, then looked up again. "Also… Dad called."
Lucian didn't flinch, but something behind his eyes stiffened.
"Let me guess. The shareholders' dinner?"
"Mmhmm. Wants to know if you're coming."
"Of course."
"And if you're bringing a plus one."
Lucian's pen paused mid-stroke.
"I'm not."
Vivienne leaned forward, bracing her chin on her palms.
"You know, if you do ever want to bring someone… I could pretend not to be the overprotective baby sister."
He glanced at her, amused.
"You're twenty. Barely qualifies as a baby."
"Still younger than your secretaries," she muttered, teasing.
Lucian's laugh — rare, low, like gravel under warm water — slipped out before he could catch it.
Vivienne beamed.
"There it is. A Lucian Reed laugh. I should frame that sound."
The tray arrived shortly after, and she started nibbling on her favorite cheese toasts, watching him quietly.
There was something tight in the way he carried himself lately. Something… heavier than usual.
She reached out, nudging his wrist with her pinky.
"Hey," she said, softer now. "Don't forget to breathe. You do know you're allowed to relax, right?"
He looked at her, eyes momentarily softer.
"I'll try."
Vivienne smiled and unwrapped a second toast.
"Good. I need my grumpy old brother to stay functional. I'm planning to crash at your beach house next weekend."
"Take Lily," he said dryly. "She can keep up with you."
"Lily would set the place on fire and blame it on the moon."
"Then you deserve each other."
She laughed. Then, with a more thoughtful glance:
"Brother?"
"Hmm?"
"You're a good man. Even when you're annoying."
"I know."
"Just checking."
They didn't need much. Just this — a warm evening, quiet truths. And a silk scarf tossed carelessly over a chair that he wouldn't move, not until she left again.