Ophelia
I take a sip of water and set my glass down, only for Octavia to suddenly shoot to her feet.
“All right, girls,” she declares, her grin wild. “Time to get ready for our night out.”
The room stills. Every man’s gaze shifts toward her, wary, and edged with suspicion.
“Night out?” Arlo’s tone drips with doubt, his eyes narrowing briefly in my direction before fixing on my sister.
“Yes,” Octavia answers sweetly, though the spark in her eyes gives her away. “A night out. Girls only. Men are tragically uninvited.” She pauses, then adds, almost idly, “On second thought, you can keep Reyes with you.”
Adelaide’s expression changes for a moment, quick, almost imperceptible, but I catch it. Hurt, before it hardens into something colder.
She leans back against the sofa. “How considerate of you,” she says, her voice smooth. “Though I can’t imagine you’ll need me there to hold your hair when you inevitably drink yourself into poor decisions.”
Octavia’s head snaps in her direction, her smile turning sharp. “That’s rich, coming from someone who’s built an entire personality on poor decisions.”
The room falls quiet. Isaak’s expression hardens, his eyes slide to Octavia in warning. Across from him, Milo’s posture changes, gone is the easy grin, replaced by a look dark and watchful, fixed squarely on Isaak.
The tension is taut, I rise before it can snap.
“Enough,” I say, looking between Octavia and Adelaide. “You agreed to a truce for this trip. Keep your promise.”
Octavia mutters something under her breath that I don’t catch, but Adelaide does, and she sends her a hard look.
Before it can spiral further, Piper rises, closing her book with a soft snap. Her voice is quiet. “We’re going,” she says simply. Then she turns to Octavia. “All of us. That includes Adelaide. You can manage one evening of civility.”
Octavia folds her arms, sulking, but doesn’t argue.
I don’t wait for more. “Let’s go, then,” I say, heading for the stairs. The others fall in behind me.
As we disappear down the corridor, Adelaide’s voice drifts back toward the men.
“Stay here. As much as it pains me to admit it, Octavia’s right, men aren’t invited.
You’ve already crashed our trip, and I know it’s pointless to ask you to leave my chalet, but that doesn’t mean you’re entitled to interfere with our plans. ”
I don’t look back, but I can feel the tension radiating behind us.
Once in my room, I head straight for the wardrobe. My fingers skim over hangers until I find what I’m after, a sparkly champagne toned mini dress.
I pull out a pair of black ankle boots and set them neatly beside the bed.
At the vanity, I lay out my makeup bag and start to work, foundation, a touch of blush, winged eyeliner, mascara, a hint of highlighter, and red lipstick.
As for my hair, I undo the braid, letting it fall in soft waves down my back. I take a small section at the front, braid it neatly, and fasten it with my diamond clip.
Once I’m dressed, the fabric shifts and glints as I move. I pull on my heeled boots, shrug a faux fur coat over my shoulders, and take one last look in the mirror.
Satisfied, I reach for a small clutch and slip in the essentials, phone, lipstick, glucose tabs, insulin pen.
I spray a light mist of perfume over my neck and wrists as a final touch.
The door swings open and Octavia steps in, grinning. Her dress is short and pale pink, paired with knee high boots that make her legs look impossibly long.
Her lips are a soft nude, her candy coloured hair falling loose around her shoulders, and somehow it all just works.
“You look beautiful,” I tell her, and I mean it.
She smirks. “Don’t go soft on me, Lia. You’ll ruin my reputation.”
My hand tightens instinctively at the nickname, but I let it pass.
I laugh, shaking my head. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
We step out into the corridor together, where Piper is already waiting.
Her ginger hair is pulled into a sleek high ponytail, freckles dusted across her nose, her makeup minimal but glowing.
She’s wearing a slate blue dress that complements her colouring perfectly, with matching heeled boots and a tailored faux wool coat.
Adelaide emerges from her room next, closing the door behind her with a click.
Her emerald green dress clings to her figure, her black curls twisted into a loose bun, with a few strands framing her face.
We start down the staircase together, the sound of heels echoing faintly through the open space. I glance between Octavia and Adelaide, both looking like they’d rather kill each other than share oxygen, and sigh.
“If we’re doing this,” I say under my breath, “you two need to promise me you’ll behave. We’re in a foreign country, and I’d rather not explain to the Swiss police why one of you ended up in a snowbank.”
Octavia snorts. “No promises.”
Adelaide arches a brow. “How reassuring.”
I sigh again, already regretting everything.
We make our way down the stairs, the sound of music and conversation drifting from the living room.
None of us look that way, no one’s in the mood for more questions.
We’re almost at the door when a hand closes around my wrist.
The touch stops me cold.
I turn, and green meets midnight blue.
His eyes are so dark they might as well be black in the dim light, and for a moment, the rest of the world blurs out of focus.
The girls have already slipped outside, but I don’t look after them, I can’t. Arlo has me fixed in place.
“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice is low.
I draw a steady breath. “Out.”
His gaze drifts over me, my face, the fall of my hair, the way the light catches on the fabric of my dress. His gaze is possessive, tracing over me like he’s memorising every detail.
His jaw flexes as his eyes travel down to where my dress ends, lingering on the length of my legs before rising to the neckline, to the curve of my chest, the cut of the fabric making it seem fuller.
“You really think I’ll let you walk out dressed like that? Into a bar full of men who don’t know when to look away?”
A flicker of irritation sparks under my skin. “You don’t get to decide that, Arlo. You’re not my keeper.”
He steps closer. “Keep testing me, Ophelia, and see where that gets you.”
My pulse jumps, though my voice stays even. “Where it always does, apparently, nowhere good.”
For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. The air between us hums, heavy with tension, hunger, something dangerously close to longing.
Then I pull my wrist free and force myself to take a step back.
“I’m leaving,” I say quietly. “Enjoy your evening, Arlo.”
Without waiting for a reply, I turn and step out into the cold.
The night is quiet when I emerge outside. Snow covers everything, soft and clean, the moonlight turning it silver.
It looks peaceful.
I follow the crunch of footsteps toward the garage.
Octavia’s voice slices through the stillness, impatient, arguing with Milo about something.
Adelaide’s by Isaak, her chin high, talking low, whatever passes between them looks tense.
Piper stands off to the side, facing away from Hunter.
When Adelaide notices me, she straightens. “Ready?”
Before I can answer, she moves to go around Isaak, but he shifts, blocking her way. He leans in, his hand brushing her cheek as he murmurs something I can’t catch.
Colour rises in Adelaide’s face, and then, just as quickly, she slips past him, his hand dropping to his side.
The garage is lined with rows of gleaming cars and motorbikes. Adelaide slows beside one of the bikes, her fingers brushing the handle as she murmurs, almost to herself, “Soon, I promise.”
Then she moves on, stopping at a black Bentley Bentayga, sleek and made for the mountain roads.
We pile in, Adelaide takes the wheel, Piper the passenger seat, and Octavia and I slide into the back.
The doors shut with a muted thud, the tinted glass dimming the world outside to shadow.
Through the window, I catch the men still standing there. Each of them wears a different kind of fury.
“Do you think they’ll actually let us go?” Piper asks quietly from the front.
Octavia scoffs. “Not a bloody chance.”
Adelaide’s reflection flickers in the mirror, a slow, devilish smirk curving her lips. “Let them try finding the car keys first,” she says. “And then see if they can guess which bar we chose.”
The engine rumbles to life. Tyres crunch through the snow, a spray of white following us as we pull away.
Within moments, the chalet disappears into the dark, swallowed by the mountain night.