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“Just because you have that fancy accent and you’re wearing a barely passable example of a suit doesn’t mean you have any right to engage inillegal activitiesin this establishment!”
It would be funny if she wasn’t being so offensive, Evander thought. A simple misunderstanding was one thing—even he admitted the situation appeared highly suspicious—but to outright accuse a stranger of that kind of atrocity was out of order.
As he reached into his back pocket for his wallet, and the business cards he always carried with him, Martha’s husband stepped into the fray. For an old guy, he was damn strong, yanking his incensed wife away from Eli before she jabbed a manicured nail into his chest.
“You’re being abominably rude, Martha. Stop this behavior right now.”
“But they’re kidnapping that girl, doing God only knows what with her!”
Donald rolled his eyes. “I don’t know who this gentleman is,” he told her in a displeased tone, indicating Elias with a wave of his shaky hand, “but the man holding the young woman is Evander Ledston.”
Both Evander and Eli’s heads snapped toward him in surprise.
“Am I supposed to know who that is?” she seethed, those lethal nails curling into claws. “Look at how she’s dressed!”
“There were days I used to whisk you from our hotel room in nothing but your nightie, dearest. Granted, I covered with you an overcoat before taking you into public view,” he added with a censorious glower at them, “especially when it was cold out. Now, apologize, before this debacle spills out into the lobby of the hotel.”
Apparently, small and fragile old ladies were fucking formidable when they put their mind to a matter. Not a silver hair in disarray, faded brown eyes sharpening into lasers, Martha set her face into a mulish expression that threatened to crack her makeup. “I will not apologize for defending a child.”
Evander cleared his throat. “Ordinarily, I’d agree with you. However, Elias here is a fine, upstanding man who’s done nothing to earn the accusations you’ve thrown at him. Not to mention, Callie is not a child.”
“When you get to my age, everyone under forty is a child,” Martha fired back, proving her mental capacity was fully intact.
The elevator slid to a smooth stop; the doors parted with a quiet ding to welcome yet another couple to this impromptu party.
“You have me at a loss,” Evander said to Donald, just to fill the awkward silence. He got the impression Martha was a stubborn old bat and wouldn’t apologize under pain of death, which meant Eli was about to spend the next few hours being a sulky pain in the ass. “You know me, but I can’t say we’ve met.”
“No, we haven’t. I believe you’re acquainted with Fordham Dewitt?”
In more ways than one, Evander thought. Ford was an utter genius with Shibari, tying subs up with near unrivaled skill, and sending them flying. “Yes, he’s an investment consultant, freelance. I believe he’s advised several companies to invest in both my construction firm and my charitable efforts.”
Donald smiled. “Ah yes, the runaway teen program. Well, while Fordham might freelance, he does an inordinate amount of investing for me.”
Curiosity tipped Evander’s head to the right. “Oh?”
“Donald Whitfield, founder of Whitfield Enterprises.” He held out the hand not restraining his spitfire wife for Evander, then Eli, to shake.
Holy fuck.
Normally, Evander wasn’t impressed by big names or bigger businesses, because all they boiled down to were more tools to use. The heftier the bank account, the more equipped a hospital could be with the right persuasion.
But Whitfield wasthefucking name everyone wanted on their investors’ list, and as a donor to a good cause.
Annoyance still visibly radiating from him, Elias rattled off a list of names, much to Donald’s amusement.
“Took me twenty years to get my first company off the ground to a place where it left a mark. Now, that company’s spawned enough of a legacy to last tens of decades, even when Martha and I are long gone.”
Evander recognized several of those names as ones that did indeed invest inhiscompany, and wondered how Ford would react if he kissed his feet the next time they saw each other.
“Can I buy you a drink at the bar?” Donald continued. “Not the most extravagant way to apologize for my wife’s ill manners tonight, but perhaps the waving of a white flag.”
Martha spluttered, but a subtle smack on her ass quietened her down.
Evander lifted an eyebrow.
“Unfortunately, we’re scheduled to fly out in thirty minutes, hence why Callie is taking a nap.” Elias’s tone was short. “She doesn’t fly well.”
“Ah. I see. Martha?”
