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Poor Evangeline.
There’s nothing poor about her. She’s tough and can stand her ground perfectly as she’s shown the two times we’ve talked. She’s adding as much fuel to the fire as I am.
My perception of her changed this morning. Neither her beautiful face nor her addictive smell can take away from the fact that she’s related to a man who wasn’t afraid to screw over his partner.
“She’s a Clairwater. They’re backstabbers and fucking liars.” I can’t help but say out loud with my eyes fixed on Prescott’s clear blue ones. There’s no hiding how much I can’t stand that name and everyone carrying it. Prescott’s disapproving glare is directed my way before his attention travels over to Evangeline.
I wait for her reply, but there isn’t one. Not even a cheap shot about me being a horrible lover. But the longer she takes to respond, the more I start to wonder what’s keeping her from throwing a great comeback at me, so I turn my head her way.
Her eyes burn into mine as she pulls her lip upwards, baring her teeth. Her loud breathing penetrates the heavy silence and she twists and turns in her seat, not knowing what to do next.
“That’s the second time you’ve called me a liar, Chester Boyd. And now a backstabber as well.” Evangeline grits through her teeth. Her voice is low and menacing. It cuts through the air before I breathe it in, slowly realising I’ve hit a nerve.
The harmless banter is gone and the atmosphere turns even colder. The healthy blush has left her cheeks. She blinks slowly and her jaw moves repeatedly as if she’s munching away on something or wondering if she should fight back with more words.
“Experience has told me what kind of blood runs through your veins, Evangeline. The same kind that flows through your treacherous brother.” I’m crossing lines and I’m well aware of that as she gasps as if I’ve hit her. Hard.
“I’mnothinglike my brother,” she snarls, her finger tapping against my chest forcefully. “Nothing.”
I swallow, staring into her fierce brown eyes, as I search for her lie. It needs to be there, but the only thing I see is a woman defending herself.
A woman whose voice matches her body language. She’s either a great liar or she truly believes she’s nothing like her brother. I study her profile, trying to wrap my head around the idea that she could be different from Frederic.
When her brother contacted my company about investing a large amount of money for a spot on my board, I was wary because something felt off about him. His eyes were dishonest and a wickedness lay deep in them. His words were almost too rehearsed and filled with promises he wasn’t able to keep. I should’ve listened to my gut when it was warning me against going into business with Clairwater.
But as I stare in Evangeline’s eyes, I see nothing of the evil her brother’s eyes hold. I see only fire and strength to reinforce her point, to fight for her own reputation, and my respect slowly grows for the woman in front of me.
Maybe she isn’t like her brother and I came to the wrong conclusion. But I need further proof because my brain is not completely convinced.
Evangeline sniffs in through her nose and blinks quickly, erasing whatever look was stuck on her face not a second ago.
“This was a mistake,” she mumbles before pushing her chair back forcefully. I straighten my back, not knowing how to react. I fidget in my chair, wondering how to stop her from leaving.
“Wait,” I reach out, wanting to grab her hand, but she pulls it back quickly, keeping her distance. “Explain it to me.”
A scoff leaves her before she shakes her head and snags her bag from the ground and swings it onto her shoulder. Her brown eyes connect with mine and they’re filled with anger.
“I don’t have to explain anything to you. But let me entertain it for a moment, Chester. I hate my brother more than you do. He’s cruel, lies through his teeth, and is okay with ruining my life. So don’t you dare compare me to him because you don’t know anything about our lives. That’s enough of an explanation.” With a swift turn, she marches away with her scent still lingering in the air.
My tongue runs over my teeth, and something unpleasant settles in the pit of my stomach. The entire discussion leaves a sour taste behind, and I can’t help but wonder if I should have approached it differently.
Her words were fuelled by truth.
“Great! Beautifully done, Chester,” Moreen snaps. The only thing I can do is nod my head, agreeing with her sarcasm.
Beautifully done, indeed.
Chapter Eight
Evangeline
“What about an article about outfits to wear to a job interview?” Topper asks, spinning around on the vintage light brown office chair that creaks under his weight. Topper’s eyes are focused on the ceiling while he bounces ideas off me for his next article.
“I don’t know, Tops,” I mutter while lying on the brown leather couch with my eyes on the same ceiling. The white Victorian one that was renovated before we moved in. Its circular details are polished and fixed. But still, it provides little to no entertainment after a few minutes.
The soft sound of some French artist plays on the record player on the weathered soft cabinet. It’s soothing, relaxing even, but my spirits have no chance to be lifted. Those have sunken to the bottom of some dark and lonely hole, thanks to a certain overly-opinionated jerk.
I woke up in a bad mood with the looming shadows of my future hanging over me. The only activity that sounded acceptable was to lie in my bed. But plans changed when I was dragged from under my blanket to answer the door.
