Violet, hand in hand with Noah, led him to the table and called for Nathan to join them for dinner. Her expression turned icy, masking her mortification as her brother gave her quizzical looks regarding the food.

Nathan, a man of his word, remained silent about the slightly tough steak and less-than-crispy potato skins. At least, he didn't say anything aloud. His facial expression after the first few bites, however, spoke volumes.

Thankfully, Noah was less discerning than a connoisseur. He enjoyed the meal and thanked Violet profusely for her efforts.

Despite her embarrassment, everything went smoothly until dessert. Her oblivious brother's initial horror at his unannounced arrival quickly morphed into a disastrous attempt at playing wingman.

"Hey, Noah," Nathan said casually. "Ever had strawberry chocolate mousse cake?"

Noah, seemingly oblivious to Nathan's suspiciously nonchalant tone, replied, "Yeah, my dad gets one from a bakery for Mom every Valentine's Day."

"They take for-ev-er to make," Nathan continued. "I even had to make one for homework once—bring it in for the teacher to taste instead of making it in class. I'm surprised Violet chose something so time-consuming. Must be bored with nothing but physical therapy."

His maddeningly casual tone, punctuated by a wink at his sister, made Violet want to disappear.

Violet knew the Singletons always had that cake for Valentine's Day. She'd enjoyed a slice or two over the years while visiting Noah. He and his brother Logan always fought over the leftovers.

That's why she'd chosen the cake—partly because Noah liked it, partly for the romantic implication. She'd hoped he'd understand before her meddling brother interfered. Now, she wanted to melt into the floor.

The Valentine's Day connection was bad enough, but Nathan had to mention the time-consuming nature of the cake. Noah's eyes widened as the implication dawned on him: his girlfriend, no baker herself, had painstakingly created a cake he loved. Denying the romantic gesture was impossible.

If she survived the evening, Violet would murder her brother.

"Your time was well spent," Noah said lightly. "The cake is delicious."

Nathan's smug "thumbs-up" under the table only intensified Violet's desire to vanish. He would pay for this. But how? She needed a way to make him regret his intrusion.

A wicked grin flashed across her face. A vintage board game her mother had played as a child—a game Violet had accidentally kept—offered the perfect solution. As children, she'd made her brothers play it constantly; they hated it. The game, "Pretty Pretty Princess," involved wearing costume jewelry. Their mother had secretly filmed one of their games, footage Oliver had later discovered, resulting in a pact to never discuss it again. Violet, however, had not been party to this pact.

She could manipulate Nathan into thinking she wasn't seeking revenge.

"Nate, I'm feeling nostalgic," she said sweetly. "Let's play one of Mom's old games. My favorite brother?"

The added sisterly charm would ensure his compliance. Her brothers were perpetually vying for the title of favorite, a ridiculous competition given her equal love for all of them.

Nathan fell for it completely. Noah, however, noticed the gleam in her eye and stifled a laugh. Whatever she planned, it must be good.

After clearing the dessert, Violet retrieved the game and placed it on the table. An innocent smile lit her face, mirroring Nathan's—until he saw the game's title: "Pretty Pretty Princess." Panic flooded his features. The bane of his childhood.

"Isn't it funny this ended up with my games?" Violet asked, suppressing a grin. "I found it the other day and have been dying to play."

Nathan gulped. "Does it have to be this game?"

Violet feigned sadness. "I thought it would be fun. I always loved playing it with you. If you really don't want to…"

Her act worked. "No! It's fine. We can totally play. As long as you don't take any pictures."

Violet theatrically crossed her heart, but there was a catch. She wouldn't take pictures, but Noah could. Her coconspirator's expression confirmed her plan's success. Vengeance would be sweet.

(Note: I removed the promotional text about the website.)