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Nell snorted.

"We're talking about the man who stole six million dollars from my family," said Astrid.

Beside me, I noticed the soft pump of the soap dispenser. Palms rubbed together, the faint wet slide of lather against skin. I never heard the water change. No disruption in the steady stream that would've come from hands moving beneath it. When Addie mentioned Elias, even the rubbing stopped. So did the woman's breathing. She stood there perfectly still, soap still coating her hands, while the faucet ran.

"I have three older brothers constantly sniffing around me," said Astrid. "I don't need a big sister."

"I've always wanted a sister," said Addie.

"Hey," Nell said.

"You're my bossy big sister," Addie soothed. "But I want a baby sister."

"Not a baby," hissed Astrid.

"No, you're a brat," said Nell. "And you still have Rosalind."

Me? They were including me?

"Well, yeah," Addie agreed. "But she's a brat too. But I guess it's better to have a bratty sister than a pushover. You done, babe?"

Silence. I knew what it felt like to have attention directed at me. Me? Was I babe?

"Yeah, I'm done."

"I don't see why you're giving me a hard time," Astrid went on. "None of you wanted to get married at first. You rejected your first arranged marriage. Wasn't that to Valentino Lupetto?"

The faucet shut off. "You were engaged to Tino?"

Four pairs of eyes flashed at the stranger. I heard a chorus of inhales. I had assumed the woman was a wolf, as this was in the upper echelons of the gym. But, no. She smelled human. That wasn't saying too much. Until last week, Nell thought she was human.

"Eavesdrop much?" asked Nell. I could hear the panther in her voice.

The human cleared her throat and stood her ground. "I've heard Valentino Lupetto is such a ladies’ man. I didn't think him capable of matrimony."

"You a notch on his bed frame?" asked Astrid.

"No," the human's voice was indignant.

I heard the quiet scrape of a heel against tile. A second followed. She'd slipped off her shoes. Bare feet shifted against the floor. Who did that outside of girls gone to a prom or a third rate dance club?

Expensive shoes didn't eat your toes alive. They could be ridiculous. Impractical. Designed by someone with a personal vendetta against the structure of the human foot. But they were actually very comfortable to wear for long stretches.

"I'm definitely not his. I'm here with my man. Alessandro de Villiers, you may have heard of him."

There was a chorus of no's.

"Oh. Well, my boyfriend said Valentino owned this place. And a lot of other gyms like it. It's my first time here. Do you ladies come here often?"

"No," we all said in unison, like we were some girl band. Like a sisterhood.

"Oh." The human was out of tune with us. "Well, my boyfriend Alessandro put down a big bet on the other guy."

I knew a pretend ditz when I saw one. Or rather, heard one. Added on with the cheap attire, the fake bag on the floor, and the eavesdropping, my guess was a cop.

I should tell Gunnar. That was what a good wife would do.

I could tell Valentino. That was what a good ally would do.