A heavy weight drops to my chest, the discomfort somehow appropriate. It reminds me to breathe, at least, because this is too much. What’s real and what isn’t? It’s hard to tell, because each breath is a trial, each thought a memory. A truth. An untruth. Oliver kept telling me he was no good. Did I ever really believe him? Should I believe him now?
“... introduce my special guest, our kind patron of the evening, Oliver Deubel.”
Mandy’s voice pulls me back to the moment, to applause and a crowd that suffocates.
“Good evening.”
My stomach turns over at the sound of Oliver’s deep tenor.
“If I could beg your indulgence for a moment. Eve?” His gaze skims the crowd, but I don’t respond.I can’t.“I know she’s in here. I’m sure I saw her tiara sparkling.”
Laughter swirls around me as I become aware once more of the gold and diamonds on my head. A gift so very special, though not because of its value—its dollar cost—or even its provenance. But because I thought he understood me.
“Eve Fairfax, could you make your way to the stage, my darling?”
The crowd starts to shift, one or two people looking in my direction. People he introduced me to earlier, I realize.
So, maybe this is where I get the booby prize.The award for most gullible goes to Evie Fairfax.Maybe this was his endgame all along. One final humiliation before he gets what he wants and puts the whole matter to rest. Only, he doesn’t look like a man up to his neck in nefarious intrigues as his gaze finds mine. And Mandy is looking on with such fondness.
Is this . . . no. He can’t be about to . . .
A realization drops inside me like a bomb.
He’s going to propose.
I want to believe the events of tonight are one jumbled misunderstanding. That maybe he kept Lucy from me out of some misplaced sense of responsibility, that Duggan is an idiot, that the auction entry is someone’s idea of a sick joke. And the way he’s looking at me, I could believe all that and more. But this feels wrong. Too much like another manipulation.
No more lies. No more power games. No more railroading. These were what we agreed.
Part of me wants to heed the warning and run, but the other part is both sickened and stirred as I find myself at the base of the metal steps. As I hear theclink, clackof my heels. Feel eyes burning holes in the back of my fancy dress.
Just like last time.
I don’t fit in here. I never did. I should’ve remembered my mantra. The rich care for nothing but themselves. Yet my leaden feet still cross the stage, and I allow Oliver’s arm to slide around my waist. He presses a kiss to my cheek and whispers a soft greeting I can barely make sense of. His arm tightens as he turns to the audience, their faces obscured by the glittering chandeliers.
“As Mandy says, there’s to be an important announcement concerning Northaby and its animal kingdom. But first I’d like to take this opportunity to ... well, it’s rather personal, but something I find I want to shout from the rooftops. Short of that, you lot will just have to do.”
How can he understand me if...How can he do this?
Time slows as he turns to me, the audience sucked away as though by a sudden vacuum. A look crosses his face, and for a moment, I’m in Garrard, on that damn sofa again, my heart lifting as my brain cells shift into negative numbers.
“Eve,” he says huskily, as his hand slides into his jacket pocket. He pulls out a tiny velvet box, the light catching its tiny golden clasp.
“I almost did this a few weeks ago. I’m not sure if you noticed.” Uncertainty flickers in his expression, but it’s so fleeting, it might be a trick of the light. “I saw before me the first in a lifetime of moments—shared laughter, loving, living. Hand in hand. And then I chickened out.”
Canned laughter. A hoot of encouragement. My chest feels hollow, my heart pounding like the warning beat of a drum. He moves to open the box.
Chocolate and peanut butter, umbrellas held over my head in the rain. His jacket over my shoulders, his strong arms wrapped around my waist. Tiara dress-ups and thrift shopping for tight leather pants.
I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.
I tried to fight my feelings, didn’t I?I think, as a sense of something washes over me. It’s not déjà vu. At least, not in the traditional sense. More like an insight.
My heart just ran ahead of itself.
I’m not the slow-boiling frog this time. I jumped into the steaming pot with my eyes wide open. I threw myself into the idea of him, the idea of us. We love, yes, but this feels wrong. How can his heart choose mine if this is how he would seek to tell the world? This is not a moment to be shared as part of a business deal.
“Eve, my darling.” The lid pops, diamonds glitter, and my apprehension tilts to certainty.
