Chapter Twenty-Three
Waking up first was becoming a bad habit. Sasha opened her eyes to bright sunlight spilling into the room.
Victoria was still asleep, one arm flung across the pillow, dark hair spilling everywhere in a way that should have been messy but somehow managed to look effortlessly elegant.
Even unconscious, she radiated that particular brand of understated perfection that probably came standard with expensive educations and trust funds.
Sasha lay there for a moment, cataloguing the curve of Victoria's shoulder, the way her breathing made the sheet rise and fall, the slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth like she was dreaming about something pleasant.
Possibly involving hostile takeovers. Or perfectly organized spreadsheets.
This was dangerous territory. The sort of domestic morning scene that led to ridiculous thoughts about futures and feelings and other complications she absolutely could not afford.
She needed air. And possibly a very stern talking-to about keeping things light and uncomplicated.
She slipped out of bed as quietly as possible, grabbed her clothes, and crept toward the door. She'd shower later, after a walk in the gardens where she could remind herself that this was just a summer fling with an expiration date stamped clearly on the packaging.
Halfway down the corridor something small and furry launched itself at her ankles with the sort of precision usually reserved for guided missiles.
"What the—" she began, then looked down to find a tiny tabby kitten attached to her trouser leg, claws embedded in the fabric like it was planning to set up permanent residence.
The kitten looked up at her with enormous blue eyes and mewed pitifully.
"Right," Sasha said, carefully detaching tiny claws from fabric. "You're not supposed to be here, are you?"
The kitten mewed again, this time with what sounded suspiciously like attitude.
Another kitten streaked past her feet like a furry torpedo, followed immediately by a third that seemed to be chasing its own tail in circles around her ankles. She took a step backward and nearly tripped over a fourth kitten that had materialized from thin air.
"Livingstone!" Sophie's voice echoed down the corridor, sharp with panic. "Darwin! Newton! Get back here, you absolute menaces!"
Sophie appeared around the corner in her pajamas, hair standing up in a dozen directions, arms full of what appeared to be three more kittens trying to make their own escape bids.
"Thank God," she breathed, spotting Sasha surrounded by the feline crime syndicate. "I thought they'd gotten into Grandmother's room. She'd have a complete nervous breakdown."
"Sophie," Sasha said, trying to maintain her balance as two kittens attempted to use her as a climbing frame, "exactly how many kittens are we talking about here?"
"Just eight. But they've formed some sort of alliance."
As if to prove her point, the tabby kitten, Livingstone, presumably, gave a commanding mew, and suddenly all the escapees began moving in formation toward the main staircase.
"Oh, bollocks," Sophie muttered. "They're making a break for the kitchen."
"Why the kitchen?"
"Mrs. Henderson left the bacon out one night. They've never forgotten."
Sasha watched in horror as the kitten army began descending the stairs in single file, like the world's most adorable military operation.
"Right," she said, rolling up her sleeves. "You take the left flank, I'll go right."
What followed was approximately ten minutes of pure chaos.
Sasha found herself army-crawling under furniture, making undignified lunging grabs for kittens that seemed to possess supernatural evasion skills.
She managed to corner one behind a suit of armor, only to have it escape between her legs while she was reaching for another.
"Got him!" Sophie called triumphantly, emerging from behind a tapestry with a squirming ginger kitten. "That's Newton contained."
"Excellent," Sasha panted, trying to extract Darwin from where she'd somehow gotten wedged behind a portrait. "How many left?"
"Er…" Sophie did a quick headcount. "Three. No, wait, four. Livingstone's made another run for it."
"Of course he has."
By the time they'd rounded up the last escapee, a particularly crafty black-and-white kitten who'd somehow gotten into the library and was using first-edition volumes as stepping stones, both women were disheveled, covered in cat hair, and slightly out of breath.
"This," Sasha said, holding the final fugitive who was purring smugly, "is exactly why people don't keep eight cats in their bedroom."
"Point taken," Sophie gasped. "Though you have to admit, their tactical coordination was impressive."
"Are we going to talk about why exactly you’re harboring these fugitives?" Sasha asked as they conveyed wriggling armloads of cats back to Sophie’s room.
"They were in the kitchen garden," Sophie said defensively. "Tiny and starving and their mother was nowhere to be found. Was I supposed to just leave them there?"
"No, but—"
"And I tried to find homes for them, but everyone in the village already has cats or doesn't want cats or is allergic to cats. So I thought maybe if I just kept them until they were bigger and more adoptable…"
"Sophie, you can't keep eight cats in your bedroom indefinitely."
"I also keep them in the lilac room next to mine sometimes. And why not? They're very well-behaved. Mostly. Except for Livingstone, but he's got character."
Sasha sighed.
The lilac bedroom was, Sasha had to admit, quite impressive in its organization. Food and water bowls were strategically placed, along with what appeared to be a sophisticated litter box system.
"At least they’re all comfortable in here," she said. "And your parents have no idea?"
"They think I'm studying. A lot. Which technically I am, just not the sort of studying they think.
" Sophie settled cross-legged on the bed, immediately attracting three kittens who began purring and kneading her pajamas.
"I've been reading everything I can about cat behavior and health.
Did you know that cats can live twenty years if properly cared for? "
"Sophie, you do realize that at some point you're going to have to let them go, right?"
Sophie pulled a face. "Is this that whole ‘if you love something set it free’ bullshit?"
"No," Sasha said, perching on the edge of the bed. "It’s the reality of the fact that you can’t keep eight grown cats in one room."
Sophie's face fell slightly. "I know. I just… they need me right now. And I like taking care of them. It feels important, you know? Like I'm actually doing something useful instead of just sitting around being the baby of the family."
Sasha felt her chest tighten with unexpected sympathy. "Is that what you think? That you're just the baby?"
"Aren't I? Victoria's the perfect daughter with her perfect career.
Archie's the heir with all his responsibilities.
Ambrose is… well, Ambrose is Ambrose, all effortless charm and good looks.
And I'm just Sophie, who likes animals and doesn't fit into anyone's idea of what a proper Sullivan daughter should be. "
"Sophie, you're fifteen. You're not supposed to have everything figured out yet."
"Victoria did. She knew what she wanted when she was my age and went after it with complete determination." Sophie picked up the black kitten, who immediately began purring against her neck. "I just want to take care of things that need taking care of. Is that so wrong?"
"It's not wrong at all. But you can't keep eight cats secret forever. Eventually, you're going to have to trust your parents enough to tell them the truth."
"Are you in love with my sister?"
The question came out of nowhere, which Sasha supposed was the point. It was designed to put her off the scent of the kittens. But it still hit like a physical blow, and Sasha felt heat flood her cheeks. "That's… it's complicated."
"Not really. It's yes or no. Are you in love with Victoria?"
"I…" Sasha looked at Sophie's serious expression, at the eight cats scattered around the room, at the evidence of a fifteen-year-old girl trying desperately to matter.
"No. It's not love. It's just… a grown-up thing.
Physical attraction and good chemistry and timing.
" Sasha felt something twist painfully in her chest even as she said the words.
"Huh," was all Sophie said.
Sasha got up. "You’re going to need to come clean about all this sooner or later," she said. "Because these cats won’t be happy here for much longer."
Sophie sighed, but nodded, and Sasha left her to her cats and went to take her walk in the garden.
SHE WAS MAKING her way back toward Victoria's room when she caught sight of movement through the partially open morning room door. Victoria was already up, sitting at her laptop with that focused intensity that meant serious business was happening.
She paused in the hallway, watching through the gap as Victoria typed rapidly, phone pressed between her ear and shoulder, hair twisted up in a messy bun.
"Yes, absolutely, I can be there Friday," Victoria was saying, her voice crisp and professional. "That works perfectly. Thank you so much for the opportunity."
Sasha felt something settle heavily in her stomach. Another interview. Another step closer to Victoria's inevitable return to London and proper banking and everything that mattered in her real life.
She knocked softly on the doorframe, waiting for Victoria to finish the call before entering.
"Good news?" she asked, though the answer was written clearly across Victoria's face.
"Second interview with Richmond Brothers," Victoria said, and her smile was real, bright with excitement. "Final round. They want me to meet all the senior partners together."
"That's brilliant. Really brilliant." And it was. Sasha meant it completely, even as something sharp and painful twisted behind her ribs. "You must be thrilled."
"I am. It's exactly the sort of position I've been hoping for. Senior level, excellent firm, the kind of opportunity that could really set my career back on track." Victoria closed her laptop, stood up with that fluid grace that made everything she did look effortless.
"Perfect timing, then."
"It is." Victoria moved closer, and despite everything, despite the growing certainty that this was all moving toward an inevitable conclusion, Sasha still felt her pulse quicken when Victoria's hand found her waist. "Though I have to admit, I'm going to miss this.
The break from London, I mean. The gardens. The family chaos. All of it."
"It's been a good holiday."
"The best." Victoria's eyes were dark, unreadable. "I should probably start packing soon. Get organized for the interview."
She kissed Sasha then, soft and sweet and tinged with something that tasted like goodbye, and Sasha kissed back while trying very hard not to think about Sophie's question or the way her chest had tightened when Victoria mentioned going back to London.
Because the truth was, somewhere between gardening lessons and stolen kisses and watching Victoria laugh with genuine happiness, Sasha had done something spectacularly stupid.
She'd fallen completely, irrevocably in love with someone who would never stop for long enough to notice.