“I’m not so dumb as to think you’d want to protect my honor.” My answer comes out uglier than I expect.
“That’s not fair, Eve.”
“Nothing about this is fair.” I slide him a look, my gaze flicking up, then down.
“I will do what I need to,” he answers simply. “But I’m not the one that put you in this situation.”
“No, you’re just the one who took advantage of it,” I say, plucking at a button on my cardigan. Rich men can’t be trusted. I should put that on a card. Laminate it for durability. Read it aloud ten times a day and use it as a mantra. “I was stupid enough to accept his proposal. I was fooled by his lies and his empty promises.” I need to remember, not repeat the mistake.
“Enough,” his cool voice commands as Oliver hauls me onto his knee, without a thought for what either I or the driver think. “This self-flagellation does not serve. You deserve kinder treatment, above all from yourself.”
“Do I deserve kinder treatment from you?”
“He will seek you out. And I will be by your side. That will be kinder.”
“Cool sidestep.” Whether I’m to blame for this situation or not, Oliver definitely took advantage of it. The strange truth is I can’t not like him. But trust is another question altogether.
“Just imagine it,” he says, his hand whispering through my hair. “I’ll take you in my arms and kiss you, and whatever plans he’s undoubtedly scheming will be crushed. He’ll be crushed. Because I have you and he does not.”
Such words. All pretend.
“You want to see him crushed, don’t you?”
I shrug, turning away from him. “I mean, it’s a close second to death by peanut butter.”
Chapter 26
OLIVER
“Here?” Eve glances up at the building, the distinctive blue flag fluttering in the gentle breeze. “Really?” Her doubtful gaze returns to me.
“Yes, really,” I reply, fastening the button on my jacket as I take her hand. “Come on. We’re already late.”
The door opens before we reach it, meaning that Eve stops tugging, hissing questions, and generally fussing. She’s right; I might’ve mentioned we were visiting one of the world’s most prestigious jewelers, but that would’ve spoiled the surprise. And created a lot of questions, more to the point.
“Mr. Deubel, Miss Fairfax, welcome to Garrard & Co.” Our greeter, a Mr. Jones, slides his hand down his blue tie and a slight middle-aged paunch.
“Good afternoon.”
“Hi. Hello.” Eve’s eyes widen as we step inside. The interior is stylish and luxurious, but I expect her reaction is more about the store’s numerous displays of diamonds.
“Breathtaking, isn’t it?” Mr. Jones, our consultant for today, seems enchanted by Eve’s apparent wonder as she stares at the highEdwardian ceilings, the chandeliers, the silk-lined walls. And the jewels, of course.
“That’s one word for it.” She gives her head a tiny shake, almost as though coming back to herself.
Relief expands between my ribs. Eve is, in so many ways, unlike any woman of my acquaintance, but I’ve yet to meet a woman who wasn’t dazzled by diamonds.
“This way, please.” Jones indicates we walk ahead, though we do so very slowly as Eve marvels at the display cabinets housing various necklaces, bracelets, rings, and even ancient archival records.
“What are we doing here, devil boy?” Eve asks from between gritted teeth. Or that could be a smile, I suppose.
“‘Devil of a man.’ If you’re going to use my name, at least use it right.”
“El diablo,” she whispers in an exaggerated Spanish accent, making a discreet horned sign as though warding off evil.
“Get thee behind me, Satan?”
“No, because you’d just stare at my ass. Oliver,” she complains, “why are we here? You said it yourself—I’m dressed like a thief.”
