Tangled In Lies (Tangled & Torn #1)

7. Evangeline

Chapter 7

Evangeline

S top pacing and just open the damn door. What could possibly go wrong?

I want to snort at the ridiculous voice in my head because what hasn’t gone wrong in the last few days?

No, make that years.

Not a lot of things, that is.

The pain in my head rises to near-impossible levels, and I stop in the middle of the room.

In a bedroom.

At Phoenix’s house.

Where I was taken without my consent.

After I got the text message on the drive here.

I heard congratulations are in order. You’ll be a good fiancée and wife, won’t you, pet?

The or else is implied.

But why? A few years ago, I went on one date, and the guy never talked to me again because Freddy vandalized his car and told him to stay away from me. But now he wants me to marry Phoenix? The more I think about it, the less it makes sense.

Being forced into an engagement, into an impending marriage, takes my life to a whole new level of ruin, especially when it’s with the man who will surely kill me if he ever finds out what I did.

And I couldn’t even explain to him why I did it, not without putting Ruby or anyone else in my life in danger.

Angry and frustrated tears well in my eyes, but I will the emotions away. I have to, or they’ll eat me alive.

At least then, you wouldn’t have to deal with all of this shit anymore. Then you’d finally be at peace.

Shut up, shut up, shut up.

I grasp my head, willing that malicious voice to go away. I can’t deal with it right now, not when I’m already so close to crumbling, so close to giving in and ignoring the warning my devil once gave me all those years ago.

If you ever think about taking yourself out of the equation, think again, because everyone will suffer for that. Every last person in your life.

A knock at the door saves me from spiraling further. The door opens after a few seconds without anyone waiting for a response.

I guess any form of decency is gone when you’re a prisoner in your own life.

“Miss Evangeline, are you all right?”

The gentle voice pulls me out of my head long enough to look up .

A tall, thin man with a full head of gray hair stands in the doorway, staring at me with a worried frown.

I let go of my hair and wipe at my face, painfully aware I probably resemble a complete nutcase and nothing like the put-together heiress I am supposed to be.

My spine straightens as I plaster on a smile and nod. “Of course, yes. Sorry about that.”

Old habits die hard—good manners that have been drilled into you your entire life even more so.

I’m unsure if he buys my terrible act, but he nods and pushes a cart I didn’t notice into the room.

“Mister Phoenix said you’d probably be hungry by now, so I brought you breakfast. Our chef said the food shouldn’t upset your stomach.” He wheels the cart to the table in the corner and glances at me with a more relaxed, pleasant expression. “Would you like me to set it up for you, or do you want to freshen up first?”

I blink at him, taken back by his friendly demeanor and the fact that someone must have told the chef I had an upset stomach.

“Miss?”

“Sorry. Freshening up sounds perfect.”

With a gentle smile, he takes a few steps back and gestures to the hallway opposite the giant four-poster bed I slept in. “In case you haven’t wandered, this hallway leads to the bathroom and the walk-in closet. Mister Holden will have your school items ready at your departure, and the remainder of your belongings should arrive later today. But I took the liberty to stock everything for you, so please alert me if anything is amiss or not to your liking, and I’ll attend to it immediately. ”

With my head pounding now, and dumbfounded by this whole interaction, I manage another smile and a “Thank you.”

The man drops his hands to his sides and bows a little. “My pleasure, miss.”

When he reaches the open door, he grabs the doorknob and regards me. “Before I forget, my name is Huxley. If there’s anything I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to find me. I’ll see to it immediately if it’s within my power.”

The wooden door closes before I get my brain to form a reply and I stare at it. It takes me several beats to get back to my senses.

Putting aside my current situation, Huxley was right. I’m hungry and need a shower to feel more human again.

I examine the cart and lift the lids one by one, groaning at the sight and smell. Poached eggs, crispy bacon, avocado toast, and a bowl of yogurt with fresh fruit and drizzled honey on top. My gaze snatches on the small package of painkillers, and I instantly grab it, silently sending a thank you to whoever took pity on me. I rip it open, toss the two pills into my mouth, and gulp them down with some orange juice. After taking a bite out of the avocado toast, I cover the food again.

Shower first, then more food.

I stride down the hallway into the bathroom, taking in the modern aesthetic with its warm, neutral colors that give it an almost cozy feel. Wood, brass, and glass are all well-balanced with sharp, clean lines, uncluttered counter spaces, and geometric shapes.

The large walk-in shower greets me with the perfectly tuned water temperature, the six jet sprays and wide rainfall showerhead effectively lifting my mood while I try to scrub away the events from the past few days. Unfortunately, without much success. But at least I’ve gotten rid of the yucky layer of repulsion that only a hangover can cause.

The closet brings me to an immediate halt since it’s entirely filled. Clothes, shoes, stacks of unopened boxes. Brand names. Famous designers. A mix of business and casual attire. Whose closet is this because these are definitely not my clothes. Nothing in this room belongs to me. I inspect the racks and pause. Everything is in my size, even the underwear in the drawers. When Huxley said he took the liberty to stock everything for me, was he talking about my entire wardrobe as well?

Deep breath. That’s the least of your problems right now.

I mumble some choice words for Phoenix and pick some simple cotton panties alongside a pair of jeans and a sweater I find toward the back.

Returning to the bathroom, I give myself a once-over in the mirror.

Ouch.

There’s a reason I usually don’t drink a lot.

I look like I’ve been doing drugs for a week straight.

Thankfully, Huxley was right, and a quick glance into the drawers reveals everything I need.

I apply some lotion and light makeup, but not until I smother my dark circles with several levels of concealer. After a round with the hair dryer, I stop. This will have to be enough to blend in with the college crowd. At school, I’m only Evie, nothing more and nothing less, at least not to most of the students. So hopefully, it’ll do.

Feeling marginally better than when I first woke up, I’m ready to devour as much delicious-smelling food as possible before heading out.

I make my way back into the bedroom, my footsteps quiet on the plush carpet.

The moment the table comes into view, I stop and stare at it with wide eyes. It’s no longer unoccupied.

Phoenix is lounging in one of the chairs like the king personified.

Well, I guess he is the king of this castle.

Does that make me his queen now?

A groan works up my throat at my random thoughts, but Phoenix only raises a brow.

He leans forward and pulls out the chair next to him. “Sit.”

I ignore him and sit in the chair next to the one he offered me, successfully putting as much distance between us as possible.

Feeling his gaze on me, I stare at him and sigh. “What do you want, Phoenix? I’d like to enjoy the food, so say what you came here to say and leave.”

“Why so prickly this morning, Angie?”

No one has called me that in three years, and the nickname sends an ice-cold chill down my spine. “Stop calling me that.”

“Why? I think I rather like it.” He leans back and puts his right arm on the back of the one I ignored.

Even though my head feels a lot better, I still have no energy to deal with this crap. I refuse to. I need at least three days of good sleep and my life to give me a momentary break from all this bullshit to digest this new episode of My Fucked-Up Life I suddenly stumbled into. Or rather, was forced into .

My stomach rumbles loudly, so I turn my eyes to the food now laid out on the table and begin adding things to my plate.

Just when I think the universe might give me two minutes of quiet to eat, Phoenix clears his throat.

“I thought it would be best to talk about the rules and what’s expected of you so we don’t run into any trouble.”

I wave my hand in a go-on gesture and take a bite of the eggs and avocado toast. Damn, that’s good. I hope the chef gets compensated well. I chew but try to focus on Phoenix. The faster he spits out what he came here for, the sooner I can eat this delicious food in peace.

“You’re allowed to wander around the house at your discretion and use all available facilities. Just stay away from my wing, and don’t leave the premises by yourself.”

My utensils clank to the plate, and I snort. “So you’re keeping me here as a prisoner?”

His friendly demeanor is instantly gone, replaced by something much harder.

With his eyes narrowed on me, he leans forward. “Trust me, this couldn’t be further from a prison, and you’d do well to remember where I’ve been for the last three years. I wouldn’t wish the humiliating treatment, inhumane conditions, or abusive interactions on anyone. Not even you.”

Well, shit.

Now, my appetite is definitely gone.

Ignoring the immense guilt bubbling inside me, I find an ounce of my backbone, even when I know deep down it’s pointless. Under normal circumstances, I’d hightail it out of here, but sadly, nothing about my life is normal anymore. It hasn’t been since that very first text message Freddy sent me.

“Just so we’re clear, I won’t be your sex slave.”