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The human ability to switch gears swiftly always fascinated Evander. Some people seethed for days, others let shit roll off their back without blinking an eye.
And some, like dear old Martha, owned up to their mistakes.
Straightening her slim shoulders, she found the confidence to meet Eli’s unwelcoming glare. “I shouldn’t have spoken out of turn without understanding the circumstances. For that, I apologize.”
Donald cleared his throat.
A muscle twitched in her cheek. “I’m also very sorry that I implied you were a criminal, capable of committing such atrocities. Although, you must admit—”
“And that’s enough from you, dearest.” Donald interrupted smoothly, ignoring the curious stares of the uninvolved couple in the elevator with them. “Perhaps we could postpone drinks until another time then? Will you be returning to Denver?”
“Next week actually, for the foreseeable future.” Hitching Callie’s deadweight more securely on his hip, Evander slid a glance toward Eli. “We’ll be in touch, get something nailed down. It’ll be nice to spend an evening with you and your lovely wife.”
“Yes,” Eli muttered under his breath, his accent stiff-upper-lip British now. “Lovely.”
The elevator eased to a halt yet again, only this time when the doors opened, the lobby stretched out before them. It was beautifully designed, reflecting the opulence and wealth of its clientele.
Elias obviously wasn’t seeing anything but his own temper as he stomped out of the elevator with a brief, curt nod of acknowledgement to the Whitfields.
The other couple made their escape, the woman’s heels clicking rapidly on gleaming tiles.
Refusing to apologize for Eli—he’d been insulted in a way that cut an honest man down to the soul, after all—Evander rubbed his beard against Callie’s head. “Perhaps we’ll see you in a week…or two, Donald.”
“I look forward to it. Something tells me you might have an investment opportunity—an exclusive one—I’d be interested in.”
Thinking of the smack on his wife’s ass and what it might mean, there was no denying that Donald was right. Having a healthy injection of Whitfield money into the Serenity project wasn’t a necessary lifeline—Evander’s own money was enough to fund it from start to finish—but a small piece of his personal pie in exchange for a larger slice of Donald’s further down the line…say for a charitable cause…could be worth the trade.
The doors started to slide closed; Evander jammed his shoulder against it. “We’ll talk. Have a pleasant evening.”
“Same to you.”
Careful not to bash Callie’s head, he walked out and followed Eli over to the front doors where his friend was muttering under his breath. Martha’s half-assed apology hadn’t dampened his temper in the slightest; if anything, her lack of sincerity only fanned the flames higher.
Perhaps it was a good thing they were headed for Phoenix and Avalon, Evander mused. Because two of the resident sadists were now claimed, wedded, and fathers, there were several masochists—and outright painsluts—who were in competition for a sadist with a fast hand, balanced whip, and some measure of control.
Until his temper cooled enough for him to flog the remnants of it out on some sub’s ass, Evander didn’t want Elias near Callie in the club. She was too sweet, and he had a feeling she’d offer herself as the target to his frustrations. A kind gesture that would be repaid with pain.
“Want me to kiss it better?” he asked, joining Eli.
Fire danced in those blue eyes, hot and searing. “It’s not the first time I’ve been accused of being a criminal, but by God, I’m fucking sick of it. Do an honest day’s work, try to be a good man, and I still get judged on…fuck, I don’t even know.”
“Maybe it’s an old lady thing,” he suggested.
Eli’s lip curled. “That bitch I worked for was a bitter, twisted old hag. Called the police and told them I’d stolen her ridiculous crystal goddamn swan. What the fuck do I want with a glittery bird?”
“Well, most people would sell it for money…”
“Mostpeople. Not me.” The earnestness in his voice was emphatic. “She had to backtrack pretty damn quick when I gave them the pawnbroker receipt. She’d taken a loan out on it, intending to go back and get it when I was locked up. They found camera footage from the shop, showing her handing the stupid thing over. Claimed she’d had a senile moment andforgotten.”
“If she hated you that much, why didn’t she just fire you?”
“Because she hated me. The upper class doesn’t just terminate employment, Evander. They’re petty, finding enjoyment in ruining someone’s life. That bitch wanted to see me rot for nothing more than me doing my goddamn job.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the Whitfields. “What the hell is her excuse?”
It was hard not to take offense at theupper classcomment, seeing as he was born and bred in it. Silver spoon and all. But he knew Eli’s opinion on those with money and power was from experience—he’d been kicked down, trampled on, humiliated by people who ran in the same circles as Evander’s parents.
“Forget her. She jumped to conclusions, wrong ones. You and I, and this one here,” he added, jiggling Callie gently, “know the truth. Do you really think I’d hire you to handle the intimate details of my multi-million dollar business if I believed you were a thief or worse?”
“No. It helps to know that.” He pressed his hand to the door. “Wait here while I go find the car. It’s too cold for her to be outside for long without a coat.”
