The following morning, pale light filtered through the tall windows of Vincent's townhouse, casting gentle streaks of gold across the wooden floorboards. Katherine awoke to the soft hum of a city slowly coming to life—the distant rattle of a carriage, the chirping of birds perched on wrought iron balconies, and the muffled chatter of passersby on the street below.
For a fleeting moment, she had forgotten where she was.
The bed, the silence, the absence of perfume and cigar smoke—it all felt foreign yet comforting. Then, like a bitter tide, memories flooded in. The brothel. Madame Dupont. The client, Bisset. Vincent's fury. His tenderness.
Katherine rose slowly, stretching as she surveyed the room. Vincent was gone, but the chair near the fireplace had been moved slightly, and the faint imprint of his presence lingered, as though he had remained until the first light of dawn.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. One of Vincent's housemaids peeked her head in. "Mr. LaFleur is waiting for you downstairs, miss. If you'd like, I can prepare breakfast."
Katherine blinked at the offer. Breakfast. No one had ever asked if she wanted breakfast. Meals at the brothel were an afterthought—a means of keeping the girls standing, nothing more. She gave a slow nod. "Yes, thank you."
After dressing in a simple gown left for her—one far more modest than anything Madame Dupont would have ever allowed—she descended the grand staircase. The scent of fresh bread and tea met her as she neared the parlor.
Vincent stood by the fireplace, nursing a cup of tea as he read through a stack of documents. He looked up the moment she entered, his sharp features softening. "Good morning."
"Good morning," Katherine replied, wary but unable to ignore the small flutter in her chest at his gaze.
"Come, sit," Vincent said, gesturing to the table where breakfast awaited. Eggs, fresh fruit, warm bread, and even butter and preserves—a spread fit for someone of wealth, not a courtesan.
Katherine approached cautiously, taking in the sight. "All this… for me?"
"For you," Vincent affirmed without hesitation. He gestured for her to sit, then took the seat opposite her. "Eat."
Despite herself, Katherine's stomach betrayed her. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until the first bite of warm bread melted on her tongue. As she ate, Vincent remained silent, simply observing her as though every small detail mattered. It was unnerving.
Finally, she broke the silence. "Why are you doing this? I don't understand."
Vincent leaned back in his chair, expression unreadable. "Do you always question kindness?"
"In my experience," Katherine said quietly, "kindness usually comes with a price."
He studied her for a long moment, fingers drumming against the table. "You're not wrong. The world isn't generous without reason. But I'm not asking you for anything, Katherine. You're here because you needed a place to be safe."
"Safe," she repeated with a faint scoff. "Madame Dupont will come looking for me."
"I expect she already has," Vincent said, calm as ever. "And I intend to deal with it."
"You keep saying that." Katherine pushed her plate away, appetite fading. "You can't simply deal with her. She's dangerous. More than you know."
Vincent's sharp gaze pinned her in place. "I know exactly how dangerous she is."
Katherine's breath faltered. There was a darkness behind his eyes, one she hadn't noticed before. Vincent wasn't just a gentleman playing the hero—he understood the depths of New Orleans' shadows far too well.
Before she could speak, the butler entered, clearing his throat discreetly. "Mr. LaFleur, you have a visitor."
Vincent's expression hardened. "Who?"
The butler hesitated. "Madame Dupont."
Everyone knew Madame Dupont, even a toddler knows that name.
Katherine's blood ran cold.
Vincent rose to his feet with measured calm, smoothing the sleeves of his tailored coat. "Prepare the west parlor. Katherine, stay here."
Fear and defiance warred within her. "I should face her."
Vincent's tone left no room for argument. "Not yet."
Before Katherine could protest, he was already striding from the room, leaving her with the lingering scent of his cologne and a heart pounding in her chest.
The west parlor was bathed in muted morning light when Vincent entered. Madame Dupont stood near the window, regal as ever, her gloved hands folded neatly before her. She turned with a practiced smile, but the steel beneath it was unmistakable.
"Vincent," she purred. "What a surprise, finding you mixed up in the affairs of my girls."
"I imagine you've had quite a morning searching for Katherine," Vincent replied smoothly.
"She is one of mine," Madame Dupont said, voice edged with warning. "And I've come to collect her."
Vincent remained still, voice steady. "She is under my protection now."
Madame Dupont's smile thinned. "Protection? Is that what you call it? I know how these arrangements go. You pay off a debt, and the girl warms your bed. But Katherine is not free to give herself away just yet. She still owes me."
"She owes you nothing," Vincent replied without hesitation.
Madame Dupont arched a brow. "You speak boldly for someone who knows so little of our… arrangements."
"I know enough," Vincent said darkly. "And I know the law."
Her eyes narrowed. "Careful, Vincent. You've always been fond of bending the law to suit your clients. You'd be wise not to cross me."
Vincent stepped closer, lowering his voice. "And you'd be wise not to mistake me for one of your clients."
For a heartbeat, the room seemed to still. The fire crackled softly as the two adversaries stared each other down. Madame Dupont's sharp gaze searched Vincent's face, seeking a crack in his composure. Finding none, she straightened.
"You're making a dangerous enemy," she warned.
"I've made worse," Vincent replied calmly.
Madame Dupont turned toward the door but paused before exiting. "You can't keep her hidden forever."
Vincent didn't respond.
Once she was gone, Vincent exhaled slowly, the tension bleeding from his shoulders. He returned to the dining room to find Katherine pacing.
"She knows I'm here, doesn't she?" Katherine asked.
Vincent nodded. "She does."
Katherine's heart sank. "Then it's only a matter of time before—"
"Katherine, you need to calm down," Vincent repeated, gentler this time. He stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Trust me, I'll handle this."
Her eyes searched his for an answer he couldn't give. But when his hand remained steady on her shoulder, a spark of hope ignited inside her. Not because she believed Madame Dupont would back down—but because, for the first time, she wasn't standing alone.