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“Like I said, my name is Ellise Vance,” She pauses slightly. “And I don’t need your approval, Mr Thorne.”

Alistair stares at her, genuinely stunned before letting out a sharp, bitter chuckle.

“Enjoy your breakfast. You have an hour to clear your things and get out of my house. Don’t keep the staff waiting.”

He sweeps out of the kitchen, his heavy footsteps echoing down the grand hallway until I hear the front doors shutting behind him.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, not allowing myself to turn to look at her just yet—completely mortified by the whole display. “You shouldn't have had to hear that toxic bullshit. He is a bastard. Don’t listen to a single word that comes out of his mouth.”

I finally force myself to turn and face her, only to find a defiant smirk touching the corner of her lips despite the intensity of the moment.

“He is quite a character, isn’t he?” She reaches her arms around my waist, pulling herself flush against me. “Watching you threaten your billionaire father in a pair of sweatpants while I stand here in your Knicks shirt? That was quite something.”

Her nails graze lightly over my back, sending a shiver through me.

“I don’t think he likes me very much,” she grins.

She never fails to surprise me. She never fails to utterly amaze me.

A quiet laugh tears through my throat as I wrap my arms tightly around her and bury my face in her damp hair.

“God, you are amazing, Bow-Peep.”

She pulls back enough to look up into my eyes, her blue gaze bright, glossy, and entirely undone.

“Oh, really?” She grins, her eyes sparkling.

“Yes, really. Absolutely amazing.”

She lifts onto her tiptoes, pressing a sweet, soft peck to my lips.

“I’m completely obsessed with you, especially in those sweatpants, Julian Thorne.” She offers me a wicked little wink before I scoop her off her feet.

She lets out a gasp, her legs automatically wrapping securely around my waist as I hold her up against my chest. I turn around, and carry her straight out of the kitchen, heading back up the stairs to my room.

Breakfast can wait.

32

Ellise

Belrose looks exactly the same.

I don’t know why I expected it to look different, but not a single detail has changed. The iron gates are still the same. The marble is still the same. The particular smell of old wood and desperate ambition is exactly as I left it on Friday afternoon.

Yet, everything has changed.

I feel like an entirely different person walking back through these doors.

I returned two days after the gala, after spending the whole weekend with Julian at the Greenwich estate, despite Alistair telling us to leave.

I walked through the entrance carrying something new and very private, convincing myself that nobody looking at me could tell the difference.

On the outside, I was exactly the same Ellise Vance—my bow tied neatly in my hair, my violin case hanging from my shoulder. But on the inside, I was completely unraveling, and I had absolutely no idea what to do about it.

“So,” Maddie glances at me sideways, her dark curls escaping her bun in their usual chaotic way.

“Don’t.”