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Eventually, we went to the same public schools. That’s when Prescott Adler joined our little club of mischief. It was his fourth school, but the Adler name will get you in anywhere. Prescott was the true rebel of the group: drinking, fighting, smoking and the occasional joint. He tried about everything illegal or frowned upon by the older generation. Though, he did give up his acts of rebellion after a few years.
Moreen and Ada were introduced when Sebastian married a Van Doren, and soon, our little group was completed by Jocelyn Hansley, a friend of Moreen, who has a say in everything that goes on at the top in our city. She’s married to her work and rarely joins any of our planned outings and lunches. When she decides to show up, it’s an exception instead of a regular occurrence.
“You were on the news a week ago, Prescott,” Sebastian says with his eyes focused on his daughter, Livia, who has both her hands in a koi pond not far away from our table. Sebastian might be cold-hearted, but he’ll do anything for his daughter. The same goes for his wife, Moreen. Both will fight tooth and nail to give Livia the best life. If only they could see eye to eye for once.
“What did he do now?” I ask, hoping it’ll be some grotesque lie. The things tabloids come up with are insane. They should award prizes to the most creative journalists out there.
“It was something legit this time. Rumour has it Prescott is the owner of some new fancy restaurant in Chelsea.” Prescott nods his head, agreeing to the rumour.
“Real fancy shit, though. I closed the deal about two weeks ago.”
“Impressive.” I nod my head. Prescott has an empire of restaurants, clubs, and pubs. They range from dive bars to the most elegant, posh places. The saying ‘everything he touches, turns to gold’ couldn’t be more true when it comes to Prescott. There hasn’t been one venture that didn’t work out in his favour.
“You’re all invited to Apollo’s two-year anniversary party as well. It’s a private thing.” I never say no to a good party and certainly not when it’s at Apollo.
“Does that mean an open bar?” I joke, knowing that Prescott hides all the expensive, rare whiskies when he hosts a party.
“Of course.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I need to get rid of all the piss whiskies you drink, Chester.”
“That’s a good one,” Sebastian mumbles, impressed, while standing up to get a better vantage point of Livia. He sits back down slowly when his overprotectiveness is settled.
“I don’t have anything positive to say about the shit you drink, Callahan. Piss sounds good compared to what you like.” A laugh comes from deep within, and I smash my fist on the table, seeing how Sebastian looks like he drank spoiled milk.
“That’s a good one,” I repeat Sebastian’s words.
“You can bring the wife and the…” Prescott stares at me and raises his eyebrows slowly. “… neighbour?” He wipes the smile off my face, and the oxygen is suddenly stuck in my throat. I have the urge to cough or to look away from the two pairs of eyes waiting for an answer.
“Evangeline Clairwater,” Sebastian mumbles, dragging out her name without looking at me.
“What about her?” I play dumb, hoping they’ll get off my back soon. These two gossip the same amount as Moreen does. They all like to do it for one reason only, and that is to make my day a living hell. Too curious for their own good.
“I thought you didn’t like her, and then the two of you show up at Livia’s party all lovey-dovey.”
“Moreen asked me to invite her, so I did.” See, a normal, decent explanation. They’re not going to trap me in a full-blown conversation about my future.
“So you like her then?” My eyes widen and air is once again stuck in my throat. I grow hot and I pull the collar of my shirt to get rid of this suffocating feeling. I hate questions like that. I hate anything that sounds like a form of commitment, but this is Evangeline. I don’t want to like her, but I fucking might.
She makes me laugh. Time with her flies by, and I can’t help but feel so entangled in her life. My blood pressure rises when I think of her and Thomas Meyer. I can’t stomach it. I’m scared I’ll just drag her out of her house and hide her in mine to make sure no man can put a ring on her small hand.
I also have a desire to kiss those full lips, to drag my hand through her long, curly hair and to breathe in her vanilla scent. I fucking want her. I want to hear her moan. I want to watch her come undone. I want to repeat that Wednesday morning, but instead, she’s in my bedroom this time.
“I…” I start.
“Fuck, you do.” Prescott blows out before he starts to laugh.
“I…” I try again. “I don’t know.”
“I thought I would never see the day where Chester’s stone heart gets captured by a Clairwater, of all people,” Prescott says, shaking his head.
“Don’t remind me.” Evangeline is no freaking Clairwater. She’s nothing like her brother. She’s kind, lovely and smiles instead of frowns. I’ve never caught her in a lie because it’s her brother that makes her live one.
But even if I lose my mind and end up falling in love with Evangeline, it wouldn’t lead to anything. It can’t.
“Speaking of the devil.” I turn my head in the direction of the tennis courts. I don’t want to give in to Prescott and Sebastian’s talks and predictions, but I have no say over my ridiculous heart beating quicker when she walks towards our table. Someone needs to smack some sense into me.
Like the first time I laid eyes on her, she takes my breath away. All of it. That smile could light up a room with how genuine it is. Even with her hair all wild and her tennis outfit all dirty, she looks absolutely gorgeous, and I can’t take my eyes off her.
“Whipped,” Prescott whispers under his breath, and for once, I ignore his comment. Prescott is not in a relationship, but he will lay down his life for Jocelyn, if she’d ask him to. That man is as whipped as he proclaims me to be.
