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𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐈𝐗

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"I have to say, I was a little confused when I got the call. I assumed after you left rehab and never called that you were sending a message." Violet murmured.

Cora stirred the olives of her martini, her eyes locked onto the clear liquid in her glass. The two were sitting across from each other in the back courtyard of a French café that had once been one of their favourite haunts, the owner was a friend of a friend and had always turned a blind eye whenever they took a cigarette with their skinny lattes. It was an idealistic pocket, walled off on all three sides by brown brick, decorated by climbing vines which snaked all the way to the tops of the walls. The privacy was a must, Cora had been tailed from the Waystar offices, and had barely managed to make it into the café without incident. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before, yet she found herself surprisingly unintimidated. There was something about the attention and pursuit of public life that had always felt natural to her.

Sounds from the city filtered in, the midday sun shining down on Violet and Cora, but the air between the two women was anything but cheery. Frankly she'd been shocked when Olivia had relayed the fact Violet had accepted the meeting. Looking across at the woman she'd once called a friend, not much had changed. Violet was as beautiful and icy as she'd ever been, dressed in a white cotton dress, sunglasses perched on the top of her head. Her expression could have been mistaken for sympathy, but Cora had known the woman for almost two decades. No, she was sizing her up, looking for weak points. Violet's specialty.

"After our last conversation, I figured keeping my distance was probably what you wanted. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable with all of my emotions again." Cora replied. She knew how she had to play this, she'd seen Violet when asked for something directly and it almost never bore fruit. She'd have to be sharp, show the other woman she meant business, that she wasn't weak. Well, not weak anymore. "Besides, I don't like being pushy."

"That's not how I remember you, Cord." Violet smiled. "Well, that's not how I remember you last time I saw you, what, almost a year ago? Not even a text. And there I was thinking we were friends."

"Makes you wonder how you knew I was out. Are you keeping tabs on me?" Cora joked. "You knew my number as much as I know yours."

"Mm." Violet picked up her mug of coffee, taking a sip. Her eyes flickered to the martini that Cora had continued to stir out of nervous energy. "Pity it didn't keep though."

Cora let go of the toothpick, the olives bobbing against the surface of the liquid. She could feel her skin prickling as she willed herself not to react. Cora had seen Violet do this dance with other people before, baiting them to attack so she could return the favour, twice as hard. She forced a casual shrug, swallowing back her panic as she met Violet's gaze. "What can I say? I need a vice, makes life interesting. Not that you would know anything about that, I haven't seen you in the tabloids anytime recently. I guess all stars have to fade though, right?"

"Is that why you're back with the Roys, to keep things interesting? Old habits sure do die hard, don't they?" Violet said, ignoring the jab. The other woman was beginning to lean across the table, folding her arms against the glass top. "Shivvy finally forgive you?"

"We're the best of friends again, actually."

"How mature. I would've thought after you tried it with the second brother she would've learnt her lesson. Speaking of, I read some of his quotes about you. Gosh, he really doesn't hold back does he?"

"Well, as you know, nothing ever happened and she's come to understand that." Cora replied tersely.

"I mean ... Sure. Until you decide you want to try your hand at being First Lady. That's the third one, right? Cooper was it? Cory?"

"Well, speaking of old habits, how is Richard?" Violet let a scowl slip onto her lips at the mention of her husband's name. Cora resisted the urge to smirk.

Beside them both, the sound of Olivia clearing her throat roused their attention. Cora turned to her assistant, frowning as the girl nervously clutched her phone and began to stutter. It was written on her face that the poor girl wanted to be anywhere but watching their match of passive aggressive ping pong. Cora cocked an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for the girl to speak.

"I ... Uh, I'm going to the lady's room if that's quite all right," she chirped.

"Yeah of course." Cora muttered, her eyes flickering to Violet. It looked as though she was equally thrown off by the interruption, frankly Cora had forgotten Olivia even existed. As the two women watched her retreat indoors in silence, Cora reached for the martini, sipping it gingerly.

After a beat, Violet spoke. "She's ... A little insipid. I don't know if you heard her make the call to my publicist but ... Well, I don't know. She should probably quit her day job."

Cora placed her glass back down, relieved that Violet's tone had shifted to one that was less thorny. "She's just green. To everything. That's the impression I got at least."

"And you hired her anyway?"

"It wasn't my choice." She paused, considering her options. She wanted to avoid going another round with Violet, the verbal sparring had given her a headache and besides, she needed the contacts. Maybe there was an opportunity to broach the divide. "Her surname's Carlisle."

It was clear that Violet didn't immediately know how to respond. Her dark brows knit together, momentarily she seemed to be scanning her brain for the name, sensing its familiarity. Something shifted in her expression as the answer dawned on her, opening her mouth to softly scoff, shaking her head.

"You really meant it when you said it wasn't your choice, huh? Jesus, why do you put up wi- No, don't worry, I know why." Violet shook her head. "Logan Roy always gave me the heebie jeebies when I stayed at Shiv's but the guy's modern Machiavelli."

"You don't say," Cora replied. Violet's face had softened considerably now as she took another sip of her coffee, pausing to suck her bottom lip, pensiveness clouding her eyes.

"Well, isn't there a spare Roy you could marry her off to?" Violet mused. "Two birds one stone in my opinion."

"What exactly would that achieve?" Cora replied, frowning.

"Well, she'd be CEO's nepotistic kid rich instead of politician's daughter rich for one. I mean she's working a job. Eugh. That's not even considering her competency." Cora took a long gulp of her drink as she listened, tapping her nails on the edge of her glass. "Two, you'd be doing her a favour with the hookup. And three, the easiest people to blackmail are the ones who have everything to lose. Give her the perfect life by making her play dirty for it, and then hold that over her head."

Speaking of Machiavellian. Cora couldn't help acknowledging that Violet had a point. "Maybe. There's not really one for her though. I mean, she's in her twenties."

"Guys love a younger girl, look at DiCaprio. Isn't the weird one still single? Roman?" Violet smirked tightly.

"I mean, yes, he's COO." Cora replied, laughing uneasily. It was a brutal reminder that Roman had always been viewed as an uncomfortable edition whenever her high school friends had visited her and Shiv over the summers. She raised a hand to rest her chin on her knuckles, biting down softly on the nail of her thumb. Cora feared that Violet would push the point further, but thankfully she seemed to grow bored with Cora's caginess, relaxing back into her seat.

"So, why'd you call? Wait, I think I already know, or at least I can guess." She wore a sly grin on her lips as she spoke. "You need something."

"You got me." Cora's tone was wry as she searched for the right words. "I need ... Well, I need some of your contacts."

"Because you have none of your own."

"Uh huh." She'd always disliked this about Violet, her need to make someone beg for her help. "That's exactly it."

"Why do you need contacts?"

"A party. Debut. For the whole CEO thing."

"And were you going to invite me to said party?" The woman raised an eyebrow as she softly narrowed her eyes. Cora quite frankly hadn't considered the idea. She'd been so focused on the task at hand that the idea of inviting Violet had slipped her mind. Inviting her meant potentially inviting Violet back into her life, something that she had evidently strayed away from. That was the curse of sobriety, losing the social circle that had once enabled you. But Cora had thrown that notion to the wind, at least when it came to alcohol.

"If you'd like an invite."

"Hmm ... " Violet sighed. "But what's in it for me?"

What was in it for her? Cora didn't have a bargaining chip. The opportunity to be in a room full of corporate cronies, their trophy wives and various extremist thought leaders? Free alcohol and middling catered food? Maybe an ATN shirt that'd fade after a single wash?

The answer manifested itself as the sound of a male bellowing echoed between the walls of the courtyard. Cora whipped her head to find the source of the interruption, her blood running cold as she caught a glimpse of a camera lens slowly peeking over the edge of the wall. Quickly she snapped her head back, lowering it so that her hair flooded forward, blocking her face from view. It had seemed that one of the many paparazzi had found a workaround to the privacy of the courtyard.

"Don't panic." Violet hissed beneath her breath. Cora tensed her jaw, keeping her head still as she met Violet's eyes. The other woman looked pointedly at Cora's martini glass. "Make it a moment. Own it."

For a beat, Cora couldn't quite grasp what Violet meant. It clicked moments later as she looked at the string of olives skewered by the metal toothpick. A moment. A moment wasn't just a moment, a moment was something that could threaten the cavalcade of articles that Kendall had launched at her, she'd watched it happen in the press plenty of times, hell she'd done it plenty of times. There was nothing that could kill one of Logan's 'Cokehead Cordelia' articles more than a tasteful scandal. She wanted to grin at the genius of it, but she stopped herself, knowing that this had to be played very specifically, confident that she would pull it off.

Slowly she reached into her glass, picking up the toothpick and holding it in front of her lips. In the glint of the sun, their green bodies glinted with a light sheen, a drop of alcohol rolling down the toothpick and dripping onto the back of Cora's thumb. She leaned her head back casually, pretending as though she didn't know the camera was on her, slowly lowering the skewer towards the back of her throat.

The sound of the shutter wildly clicking echoed around them as Cora closed her lips around the toothpick, pulling it clean from her mouth and swallowing. She placed it neatly on the edge of her martini glass, ignoring the coarse jeers of the man. Across from her, Violet giggled, shaking her head. Cora couldn't help herself from joining her, finally shooting a proper look at the paparazzi.

"God, you're bad." Violet nodded towards the man. "Do you think he's standing on the shoulders of another person or does he just do CrossFit?"

"Definitely the former." Cora giggled. "C'mon, let's clear out of her, I'm all out of olives."

Back in the café, they found a very confused looking Olivia, who looked at their sudden friendliness with an obvious sense of whiplash. "What's going on? Did something happen?" She said, her eyes wide as saucers. Cora managed to cut her laughter short, biting her lip.

"Maybe. Maybe, yeah." She replied, hoping that there was no point in elaborating.

"Did you see the look on his face? I thought he was going to fall."

"God, I know." Cora shook her head. "But now I'm a bit worried about leaving. It was hard enough getting in in the first place."

They all turned to peer down the corridor then, looking through the bay windows of the café. Sure enough, the press was clamouring outside. Cora bit her bottom lip, leaning back to allow the shadows to conceal her. A mischievous grin spread across Violet's lips. "I think you have an opportunity here. I mean, those articles were really nasty but ... I have a feeling you could bury them."

"I'm all ears."

Violet smirked. "We're the same size, aren't we?"

Five minutes later and the three women were ready to brave the outside. Beside the curb, through the haze of cameras and microphones, Cora could see the Waystar company car she and Olivia had arrived in, the driver leaving his side as he managed to spot them in the crowd, which had suddenly begun to part. Around her, the members of the press stepped back, their shock and confusion palpable. With her eyes obscured by her sunglasses, Cora let her lips form a nonchalant smirk, a shot of adrenaline coursing through her.

The dress Violet had swapped with her clung to her body, thanks to the thorough dousing they had given it in the bathroom sink. It was freezing, but the pay-off of the buzz around her was enough to warm Cora as she made her way through the stunned crowd. Beneath the transparent layer of fabric, the dark fabric of her bra and underwear were perfectly visible.

It took only a moment before the crowd converged on her, Cora cutting through the sudden swarm of microphones that now pointed towards her.

"Miss Vernon, what are your thoughts on the supposed evidence against Logan Roy?"

"Is this a performance piece? Is this a statement on the recent cruise ship scandal?"

"Cordelia, care to comment on Kendall Roy's comments earlier today. He characterised you as 'desperate'. Why do you think that is the case?"

Cora reached up to lower her glasses and squinted at the reporter who had asked the question. For a moment her eyes flickered to the cameraman beside him, softly smirking at the lens before leaning over to the microphone. "Well, darling, that's because Kendall Roy's a misogynist."

Before she could be further questioned, the driver pushed his way through the crowd, managing to form a path as he shielded her from the hungry eyes of the cameras. Hurriedly Cora opened the backdoor of the car, moving to the far side to make room for Violet and Olivia to follow. With the door closed, all three of them breathed a sigh of relief behind the shade of the car's tinted windows.

Cora let out a burst of relieved laughter. "Oh my god, that was insane."

"I know, I haven't had to wade through a crowd like that in years." She grinned as the driver resumed his position in the front seat. As he pulled away from the curb, he glanced back in the rear view to meet Cora's eye.

"Yeah, yeah I'll pay you for the dry cleaning or whatever for the wet seat." She assured him, before turning back to Violet. "So. Party. Contacts."

"Done." Violet replied with a wink. "I presume I'm invited now then, right? I'll bring the party favours in that case. Your favourite, if I'm remembering correctly."

As Cora nodded, leaning back with a big sigh of relief, she pretended as though she hadn't heard Violet's last sentence. Already her mind was running wild, her pulse building, the hunger unfurling in the pit of her stomach. Oh, she was back. She was truly back.

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Roman thumbed the screen of his phone as he kneaded the side of his forehead. He was waiting in the private booth of the restaurant he'd booked, a contemporary upscale place with low mood lighting, tiny portions and off-duty models as wait staff. Cora was about fifteen minutes late, and he was beginning to wonder if she was going to stand him up, his attempts to reach out to her throughout the day going unanswered. His only confidence that this wasn't the case had come from Olivia, who had responded promptly when he'd asked whether Cora had received the booking information.

[TEXT: Olivia] She's read it and is super excited!!!

He took it as a half-truth, she would turn up which would have to be enough for now.

He'd found out about Cora's earlier antics along with the rest of New York, via a barrage of articles and videos that filled the feeds of seemingly every social media app. In contrast to the comments Kendall had released to the press earlier in the day, the salaciousness of her actions combined with her nonchalant attitude had caused a firestorm. He had to hand it to her, it was a stroke of genius, yet he'd been able to shake the feeling of foreboding that had settled in the pit of his stomach, a sense that something wasn't quite right.

His eyes skimmed the pictures of her in the white dress for what felt like the millionth time that day. The image had been caught mid-stride as Cora wore a soft and easy smile, her dark hair floating around her, the wind having blown at an opportune moment. Her eyes were obscured by the dark lenses of her sunglasses, but in Roman's mind he could conjure the image of them, her lids lowered in a show of coyness, as if she had no idea why she was being fussed over. Of course, it was hard to ignore the focal point of the image and he would be lying to himself if he denied that his fascination ended purely on her mind state. But as much as it elicited desire in him, so too did it feel wrong, as if he wasn't really looking at Cora but a facsimile of her.

This wasn't an unfamiliar feeling, in fact it had been the reason why he had always ignored her time in the public eye. He had been determined ever since he had blocked her to never acknowledge that she had ever existed. It hadn't been easy. Shiv had had an annoying habit of trying to strike up conversation about Cora's latest antics, the source of more than a few arguments between the siblings, but the real kicker had been when she'd been spotted with Kendall. Now that had smarted, not that he'd ever admit that to anyone, not even himself.

Roman was roused from his thoughts as he saw movement from his peripherals. He glanced upwards to see Cora crossing the length of the restaurant, clad in a dark grey miniskirt and a turtleneck vest. As she passed a waiter, she reached over to grab the bottle of red wine they were holding, grasping it by the neck as she moved towards him. With a hefty thud, she planted the wine in the centre of the table, sliding into the booth.

Roman frowned as he closed his phone, eyes flickering to the bottle. 1947 Chateau Mouton Rothschild. "Didn't know we had anything to celebrate."

"You didn't see the headlines? I buried the Kendall articles, I think that's worth an occasion." Cora's voice was light and casual as she began to unscrew the top, but her face betrayed a surge of confidence. Roman was haunted by the same feeling he had experienced looking at the photo of her, shifting uneasily against the seat of the booth. A waitress arrived at their table bearing menus and Cora shot the girl a winning smile as she handed off the cap of the bottle. "Some glasses, yeah?"

"Yes, of course. Right away." The waitress replied, placing down the pieces of hard before hurrying off.

"So ... " Roman began, trying to collect his words. Cora was glancing down beside herself as she rifled through her purse for her phone. "Is this just the way things are now?"

"Hmm?" She muttered, now scrolling through her phone. "Uh, like how so? You mean the pictures? I figured you would've been impressed. I thought I was being pretty resourceful, given the circumstances."

"I am impressed, yeah." His expression was unconvinced, not that she would know, given that she was yet to look him in the face. "I'm guessing you got what you wanted then."

"Uh huh, exactly what I wanted. Violet turned out to be a big help, she's sent through some names to Olivia. Poor girl's still stuck at the office with Gerri and Karolina, they're all working overtime to throw it together." Cora had begun to type something on her phone, smirking as she did so. The waitress arrived back, placing two glasses in front of them.

"Would you like anything to start?" She said as she served Roman's glass before turning to Cora.

"Not yet." Cora replied, placing her phone facedown on the table. She placed her elbows on the table, resting her chin on the tops of her knuckles as she watched the waitress pour out her serve. When the girl began to retract the bottle, Cora cleared her throat abruptly. "You can keep going. In fact, I'll say when."

Roman's brow had become creased as he watched the deep red continue to fill Cora's glass to a comical level. It seemed that Cora was intent on draining half the bottle in one fell swoop. After it became obvious she wasn't going to ease up, Roman reached across the table and placed a hand on the server's wrist. "Yeah I think that's enough."

Cora didn't even try to play off the scowl that twisted across her lips, but Roman let it go uncommented on. The server, clearly a little embarrassed, nodded and placed the wine back down on the table. "Um, just flag me when you're ready to order."

"Roger that." Roman replied, waiting until she was out of earshot to face Cora again. "Ok, are we going to talk about this?"

She had already lifted the glass to her lips, her eyes closed as she took several gulps. He felt a sudden spike of annoyance at how she was acting. Cora had always been avoidant, but this was bordering on obnoxious. Finally she placed the glass back down, reaching for her napkin and patting the corner of it against her top lip. Only then did she let her eyes meet his, challenge swimming in her dark irises.

"Talk about what?"

"The drinking, Cora. The relapse. You were sober before we got on the yacht and now you're sculling cab sav and arriving at the office visibly hung over." He felt himself scoffing beneath his breath as he spoke, unable to mask his frustration.

"Is this what you wanted to ask about on the yacht?" Her voice was still light and innocent. The question threw him off, his chest tightening as he recalled the previous day. It had happened so recently and yet the memory felt distant, she felt distant.

" ... One of the things, yeah."

"Why didn't you?"

"I don't know, Cora, I guess I just didn't think I'd get a straight answer out of you."

"Well that's not very fair, Rome." Cora's lips were upturned and demure. "Besides, it's fine. I know my limits. It's all gravy."

"Yeah, consider me unconvinced." Roman replied. It came out sharper than he had intended it. He took a breath inwards, pinching the spot between his eyebrows as he attempted to calm himself. "I just need you to be real with me. We're, y'know, a team. Or at least we're meant to be. You don't have to put up this front you're doing right now."

"What front?" Now it was her turn to become sharp. "Seriously, Roman? Just because I've decided I'm not going to be pushed around anymore doesn't mean that I'm suddenly faking who I am. I mean, you don't even know who I am, so I don't know why I feel like I have to explain myself."

"I don't know who you are?"

"Yeah, you don't. You knew me as a kid, a child. We didn't speak for over a decade, Roman. Neither of us know who the other is, not really."

Roman swallowed, grinding his teeth together, his jaw tensing. Even if he wouldn't admit it to himself in so many words, he had often felt like the only person to have truly seen him had been Cora. He knew it would be naïve to not acknowledge there was some truth to what she had said, but the comment was winding all the same. She seemed to have realised the extent of her blow, her expression quickly softening.

"I just mean ... " She chuckled nervously, shaking her head. "I just mean that there are parts of me that ... That maybe you won't like but they're parts of me all the same and I would be lying if I said I thought you were a perfect person too. It's just ... It's a stressful time right now and I just ... Could you be patient with me? I'd really appreciate it if you could be patient with me."

His eyes flickered upwards as she placed her hand on the middle of the table, biting down on her bottom lip. Suddenly it was like the room around them had shrunk to encompass only the booth where they both sat. Roman slowly ran his gaze up and down each of her fingers, his throat tensing as he realised what she was doing, what she wanted from him. He was hesitant as he lifted his own hand, yet the pull to touch her was magnetic. His fingers came to rest atop her own, delicately as though he were afraid she might disintegrate beneath his touch. Her skin was soft, her hand surprisingly cold where his own was warm. Their eyes met across the table and there she was for just a glimmer, the girl he'd known, the real Cora.

When he spoke, his voice was low and tender. "Cora, you need to tell me what's happening with you and my dad. And don't say nothing. I know it's not nothing."

Her lips parted as she began to speak, but it wasn't her voice that sounded. "Hey, hey, hey motherfuckers!"

Roman jerked his head to find Kendall stalking across the length of the restaurant, his arms thrown up in the air, a shit-eating grin stitched across his face. Naomi trailed behind him, holding a clutch in one hand, the other sweeping part of her blonde bob behind her ear. Beneath Roman's hand, he felt Cora pull away, watching her straighten up from the corner of his eye.

Kendall and Naomi came to stand before their table. There had been plenty of times in Roman's life where the last person he had wanted to see was his brother, but this one certainly took the cake.

"Romulus, Cordelia, how are we doing this fine evening? Drinking a Mouton Rothschild, excellent taste. Real nice stuff." Kendall said, his voice dripping in bravado. "So, what's this meeting of the minds all about? Having a brainstorm session for the next cheap stunt you're gonna try pulling? I have to hand it to you, I didn't think you had the machismo for a move like that."

"Is try really the right word when I blew your shit out of the water?" Cora countered. "It doesn't take a genius to know what people prefer. Boring ass commentary from an out of touch man doesn't really hold a candle now, does it?"

"I said I'm letting you take the W here, Vernon, but you can't suck and fuck your way out of bombing stocks."

"Jesus Kendall." Roman muttered, frowning. "Real champion for women over here."

"She's not a woman." Kendall retorted. "She's a fucking migraine."

"You're acting like the investors aren't all old men." Cora snorted, taking a sip of her wine. "Besides, the numbers are already improving. You're going to have to try a little harder, not that I don't appreciate the effort so far."

He scoffed. "Oh yeah? And what about the next time you're in a bind? Because there's a limit to how many clothes you can take off." He glanced at Naomi, searching for her approval. She shot him a tight smile, nodding.

"Gosh, you seem awfully concerned about what I'm doing with my body." Cora leaned towards him as she spoke. "Did you like the photos, Kendall? Did you get a really good look? Are you excited to see what I'm going to do next?"

Kendall narrowed his eyes, clearly taken aback by her forwardness. Roman's eyes flickered to Cora, unable to not see the flirtatious smile on her lips, stained crimson from the trace of wine.

"That depends, Cordelia. What are you going to do next?"

Naomi suddenly cleared her throat, tugging on Kendall's arm. "C'mon Ken, we'll just leave them to it. Don't want to make a scene." It was hard to get a read on the Pierce woman's face, Naomi had always been the type to hold her cards close to her chest. All the same, Roman swore he could see a flicker of hurt in her eyes.

"Be seeing you at the party tomorrow!" Cora called out over her shoulder as the couple departed, smugness radiating from her as she giggled under her breath. She turned her attention back to Roman, pretending to gag before picking up the menu. "Mr Killjoy. Apparently he can say and do whatever the fuck he wants but he can't handle when I fire back?"

Roman didn't know how to react, nor what to think. In the span of a few minutes he felt as though he'd been through the emotional ringer. He forced himself to shrug his shoulders, the motion stiff and unnatural. "Yeah, uh, fuck him."

"Mmhmm." Cora paused as her phone buzzed against the table. She quickly picked it up, huffing theatrically as she put down the menu. Roman already knew what she was going to say before she opened her mouth. "God, Gerri wants me back at the office to go over party details. Can I get a rain check?"

He couldn't even summon the energy to argue, blowing air noisily from his lips. "Yeah, yeah sure. Whatever."

"Cool, thanks for understanding." She said, grinning and sliding out from the booth. "You're the best."

If this was how the best was meant to feel, he couldn't possibly fathom being considered the worst.