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“What about—” A tremor takes her voice.
I know what she wants to ask.
“Mr. Richards is also in the hospital,” Elijah tells her. He cast a fond look at me—it makes sense that my violence would be pleasing to him, bastard—before saying, “Zayn dealt him some massive injuries.”
Eve’s eyes open and this time I see hesitance and shame in those pretty brown eyes that could bring me to my knees. “So…you know?”
The left side of her face is blooming with bruises, and I tenderly trace my thumb over them. “I know what he did to you. And he’s going to go away for a long time, unless I kill him first.”
Eve swallows. “As much as I like the idea of you killing him, I don’t want blood on your hands, not more than you already have.” Then, she gives a wry smile. “Besides, Agatha will kill you over the PR nightmare.”
I see the haziness in her eyes, and I can tell that the morphine is taking effect. She looks at Elijah and struggles with her words, a small frown on her forehead. “Don’t—don’t bully him.”
My father sighs and then reaches over to settle his hand on hers. “All right, Eve. I won’t.”
Am I imagining the softness in his face?
Mila wanted to see her mother, and so did Ron.
However, with Eve hovering in and out of consciousness, there was never a good moment. I didn’t want to frighten Mila, so I had Agatha bring her in one evening when Eve woke up.
Kisses and tears and solemn promises that she would bring her new favorite bear to heal Eve, convincing Mila to go home was a difficult task.
Ron wasn’t so lucky. Every time he came by, Eve would be asleep.
I watched him cry when he thought he was alone, soft sobs till Mark came to take him away.
I postponed the opening of the club.
I didn’t bother to read the articles, but Agatha kept me informed about the gist of them. Frank Donavon, who took an intense dislike to Eve, was writing non-stop, having managed to sneak into the newly decorated office and take pictures of the ‘crime scene.’ He also managed to pay someone to sneak pictures of Thomas, who was now awake but still in the hospital. He was going to be shifted tomorrow.
Most of his articles portrayed Eve as a seductress who finally ‘got her due,’ without using those exact words.
“I’ll bury that fool,” Agatha swore one evening as she dropped by with Charlotte to the hospital. While Charlotte chatted with Eve, Agatha took me aside to tell me what was happening.
“Everybody else is reporting what I told them happened but that little weasel is the only one who managed to get pictures of Thomas, so his word is gaining credibility.” She looks angry.
“Crush him,” I tell her, flatly. “And if you can’t do that, tell me. I’ll talk to Elijah. This man is starting to inflict too much damage on my family.”
Agatha goes pale. “You want to…?” She doesn’t finish her sentence, and I roll my eyes at her.
“I’m not going to kill him, Agatha. Jeez. Elijah can persuade him to stop writing about Eve.” I chance a look at the open door of the hospital room. “I’m not letting anything touch her again. She’s been fucked over too many times. Now, she’s mine. And nobody touches what’s mine.”
The conversation with Agatha leaves me rattled, and a few hours after she leaves, I am getting coffee from the cafeteria when I bump into an older couple who looks frazzled. They brush past me, making their way to the nurse’s station.
I find them oddly familiar, and I watch them as I sip the nasty brown gunk from the paper cup.
“Eve Taylor.”
The man has a Southern twang, reminiscent of Eve’s, and I still, suddenly realizing who they are.
“Her parents.”
The nurse glances my way, uneasily. She was instructed only to let people on the list inside and Eve’s parents are nowhere on the list that I provided them with.
She coughs. “Ah, you’ll have to talk to Mr. Wolfe if you want to see her.”
When the man blusters, she purses her lips. “I’m sorry, sir. But we’re under strict orders from the police to keep anyone unauthorized away from Miss Taylor’s room.”
