Chapter 4
ALEX
The waiting room at MESS headquarters in Pombrio smells like leather wax and state secrets. This is my first visit. In fact, my first time ever dealing with the Mount Evor Secret Service. I’m not entirely sure why I’m here. All I know is that it has to do with Geoffroy’s death.
Was he a MESS agent?
I doubt it. Knowing his twisted, underhanded ways, I’d rather believe he was a foreign spy.
Across from me, Geoffroy’s widow Eva is tapping a slow, nerve-racking beat against the marble floor.
As always, I try not to look at her.
As always, I fail.
Her trench coat drapes elegantly over a black silk dress. Her auburn hair catches the light. But her mouth is set in a hard, angry line.
Is it grief that stiffens her, or fury at losing the duchy to me?
I’d wager the latter.
I stare some more, while keeping my expression as stony as I can. God, she’s beautiful! Even when she’s vexed. She could drive a lesser man to distraction. But not me. I’ve trained my brain to tune out distractions.
Eva Castellane, I remind myself, is a gold digger and an empty shell.
The only reason I react to her this way is because she’s always been off-limits.
Had things been different, I’d have taken her out with the goal of sleeping with her.
Rejection or success, the outcome would’ve been the same—I’d move on.
She’s the forbidden fruit, the fenced-off pasture that looks greener than it really is.
I’m sure that’s what’s causing the anomalous chemical reaction that Eva sets off in my brain.
But acute as it may be, I’m thirty-nine, not nineteen.
My willpower is stronger than my sex drive.
I can handle the Eva Anomaly. I have been handling it thus far, and I shall continue to do so.
“This is absurd,” she mutters under her breath.
I don’t engage.
“Why are we even here?” she asks.
“I got summoned just like you did,” I say dryly. “That’s all I know.”
She snorts. “I wasn’t sure you’d come. I thought you’d be too busy counting your unmerited inheritance.”
I ignore her taunt. “I never say no to an opportunity to learn something.”
“Oh?” She arches an eyebrow. “Then you must know, since you’re such a learner, that Millie is Geoffroy’s direct descendant. Not you.”
She won’t let me be gracious, will she?
“The other reason I’m here,” I add with a mean little smile, “is that one doesn’t decline a royal request even when one is a duke.”
Her glare slices through me. “We’ll see about that.”
I don’t speak anymore. I just stare at her.
The silence stretches out. The air in the previously chilly waiting room starts feeling hot and heavy.
“We’re going to court,” she says, voice low. “You know that, right?”
“I assumed.”
“We’ll bring up every oral commitment, every witness, every promise Geoffroy made in front of witnesses, including Prince Richard himself.”
I shrug. “Do it.”
Her brow lifts. “That’s all you have to say?”
“Threats don’t work on me. If anything, they make me dig in harder.”
She leans forward. “You think this is some kind of game?”
“No. I think it’s a mess.”
“A mess you’re making worse.”
“I’m following the law,” I point out. “Geoffroy didn’t leave a will. It’s not my fault.”
She clenches her hands. “He told me he’d broken the entail. He told Millie, Julian, Brigitte—everyone!”
“Well, obviously, he lied.”
She goes still.
As often in such situations, I wonder if my purely factual observation was too blunt and if I should’ve toned it down. It’s always hard to know which facts can be stated as they are and which should be modulated because they might hurt someone’s feelings.
Are Eva’s feelings hurt now?
It would seem they are. And that just confirms my “empty shell” assessment of her.
One must be extremely unintelligent to believe Geoffroy was the kind of man who wouldn’t lie about something important.
If she still thinks highly of him after sixteen years of living under the same roof and sleeping in the same bed, there’s nothing I can do for her.
Being dead doesn’t change the fact that he was a self-absorbed jerk in life. He couldn’t even be bothered to protect his own child!
Eva exhales sharply. “You don’t want this. You’re a math professor, Alex. You lecture. You do… equations?”
“Partial differential equations,” I say. “Quantitative modeling. Statistical inference.”
“Exactly. And you trade stocks as a hobby. You don’t have time for farmers whining about milk prices and grain tariffs.”
“Actually, I like tariffs.” I tilt my head. “They’re fascinating.”
She shoots up from her chair. “You don’t know the first thing about running an estate!”
I stay seated. “I’ve seen the numbers, Eva. Rohinn’s GDP has been flat for three years, yet exports are down. To me, that suggests Geoffroy was draining the farmers to keep his margins steady.”
“You don’t know that,” she says. “You haven’t seen the books.”
“No. But I’ve modeled the region’s economic profile using public data. I know enough.”
She takes a step toward me. “You really think you’re smarter than everyone, don’t you?”
“Not everyone,” I say. “Just most people.”
Her lips part. Her chest heaves. She’s furious. Or could that be…? If I’m reading the signals right, she either wants to kill me or kiss me.
I must be wrong about the kissing. She just wants to hit me, preferably on the head with something heavy and hard.
The air tightens.
Her being this close, compounded by the perfume she’s wearing, breaches the first defensive line in my brain.
I stand. Now we’re face-to-face.
She tilts her head up. I can see the fine lines at the corners of her eyes. Her skin is flushed. She’s holding herself together by sheer willpower. And all I want—
No. No, I don’t.
“Tell me the truth,” she hisses. “You don’t actually want the title or the duchy. You just don’t want Millie to have it.”
I meet her eyes. “Millie is my niece. I don’t know her well, but I have nothing against her. What I want is the challenge. I want to fix what Geoffroy broke.”
My last statement does something weird to her. She flinches and sways. A gasp escapes her lips, and her hand flies to the base of her neck and clutches it.
Clearly she’s in complete denial about Geoffroy’s failures. I wonder how limited her intellect must be to make her this blind to Geoffroy’s true nature.
Tone it down, Alex, Mother’s voice rings in my head.
I force myself to apologize. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend your late husband’s memory.”
She blinks then lets out a sharp, dry laugh. “Apology accepted. But you’re wrong to judge the way we ran things so fast. Rohinn is more than a spreadsheet.”
“We?” I peer at her, then it comes to me. “Ah, yes, you took some economics courses, right? Were you involved in running the duchy?”
She hesitates. “No, not really. The estate manager talked Geoffroy into keeping me out of it.”
“I’m sure he had good reasons.”
She sucks in a breath like I slapped her.
The door swings open.
A bald, round-faced man in a dark suit steps out. He has piercing blue eyes and a commanding air about him.
“Your Grace. My lord,” he says. “Come in, please.”
Eva doesn’t move, still reeling from my comment.
I speak first. “Adam Von Dietz, I presume?”
“You presume correctly.” His lips twitch almost into a smile but not quite. “Welcome to MESS.”
Eva brushes past me without a word.
I follow her in.