Chapter 22
ALEX
Eva and I are back in the archives after giving the MESS agents a tour of both tunnels. They showed up with scanners, drones, and a set of sleek steel cases. Now they’re crawling all over the slope and the lodge while we prepare to dive into the records once more.
Eva tosses her blazer over a chair and pulls her hair up, ready to dig. A few strands fall forward, and I fight the urge to tuck them back.
We pick up where we’d left off.
Eva flips through a thick binder labeled Hospitality Projects – General. “You think we’ll actually find something?”
“Define something.” I pull a stack of loose files toward me. “Proof the tunnels are haunted? Probably not. Proof Geoffroy was involved in something shady? Possible.”
“God.” She looks worried.
I am, too.
We both have every right to be. No matter who wins tomorrow—and she doesn’t seem to know my victory is imminent—Geoffroy’s involvement would be bad news. It would tarnish the family, the estate, the duchy, and make economic recovery tougher.
Ten minutes later, Eva makes a noise that’s half surprise, half triumph. I lean over, close enough to catch the faint citrus scent of her shampoo.
On the table between us is an email printout from a year ago.
Eva points at the sender’s name. “It’s Geoffroy’s investor for the luxury resort project.”
I read the email.
I think we should switch to the lower meadow site. The slope is too remote.
Then I read Geoffroy’s reply.
Absolutely not. The slope is perfect. Best view in the duchy. I want the hotel there.
“If he’d known about a smuggling tunnel,” I say, “this would read differently.”
Eva’s eyes stay on the page. “He’d have been hiding it, not fighting for the spot.”
I slide the email toward her, my fingers brushing hers. She sets it aside for Von Dietz and we keep going.
My fingers are blackening with dust when I pull out a rolled survey map dated five years ago.
“Geological report,” I tell her, unrolling it.
She props her elbow on the table and leans in, while I hold the edge of the map down so that it doesn’t curl back.
“Anything?” she asks.
“Nothing about tunnels, caves, or voids,” I say, scanning the document.
She double-checks. “I don’t see anything, either.”
“Just a note about bedrock depth and drainage.” I tap the page. “If Geoffroy knew about the underground fun house, this survey wouldn’t be here.”
“True.” Her shoulders loosen just a fraction.
We keep going.
Another twenty minutes, and I find a slim folder of sketches. Geoffroy’s handwritten scrawls fill the margins—measurements, angles, landscaping ideas. Everything focuses on foundations and access roads.
I pass her the folder, our fingers meeting again.
“Here’s another clue,” I say. “If they’d started digging for this hotel, they would’ve hit the smuggling route within the first week.”
Eva studies the page, then leans back, holding it. “He didn’t know.”
“No.” I meet her eyes. “He didn’t.”
She breathes out slowly. “That’s something, isn’t it?”
“Definitely,” I say.
And I mean it. As much as I hated the man, finding evidence that he wasn’t knee-deep in contraband or worse, treason, makes my future brighter.
We stack the three pieces of evidence together, clip them, and drop them into a folder marked for Von Dietz.
“Dinner is in twenty minutes,” Eva says, pushing her chair back.
I stand.
We gather loose papers into neat piles.
“I’ll walk you up,” I offer.
We head for the door. The corridor is empty, our footsteps muffled by the old carpet.
Halfway to the stairs, I stop. “Will I see you later tonight?”
I hope my voice sounds casual, but my stomach knots.
She feigns surprise, eyes laughing. “What for?”
“Eva,” I say, tilting my head.
Her lips curve. “I’ll sneak into your room around eleven.”
I try not to grin like a maniac as we keep walking.
I fail.
Eva’s curled against me, skin warm, hair spread across my shoulder.
The sheets are a tangle around our legs.
I stroke lazy lines along her back, feeling the faint rise and fall of her breathing.
We’ve been kissing in that slow, lingering way that says neither of us wants to move just yet.
Her hand rests on my chest, fingers curled as if anchoring herself.
The sweet, quiet intimacy of this moment is almost as good as the sex we just had… until thoughts of tomorrow’s verdict intrude. If Derek’s right—and he usually is—it’ll land in my favor. That could shatter whatever fragile thing Eva and I have been building. Unless…
I have an idea. A good one. Possibly brilliant.
I pull back so I can see her face and brush my thumb along her arm. “You know it’s unlikely you’ll win in court, right?”
“Is that so?”
I nod. “Your claim to the duchy, however morally justifiable, lacks legal grounding.”
“Is that what Derek told you?” She shifts away and crosses her arms over her chest. “It’s a shame he forgets to mention that judges weigh the law’s spirit, not just its letter.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“Glad we agree so far.” She gives me a smug smile. “So, here’s the spirit of the law. In Mount Evor, inheritance follows not only primogeniture but also representation.”
“I know.”
Her smile sharpens. “Do you?”
“Of course I do.”
Her mouth curls into a pout. “Hmm.”
“I assure you I’m familiar with representation.”
“Let me recap it for you, anyway,” she insists. “A direct descendant, male or female, comes before a collateral relative, like a half brother.”
I let out a short laugh. “I can practically hear Pauline speaking through you.”
“Does that make me wrong?”
I lean in, eyes locked on hers. “What Pauline conveniently omits is that the entail overrides representation.”
“Geoffroy wanted to end it!”
“But he didn’t.” I shrug. “If he’d broken it, sure—Millie would’ve inherited everything. I wouldn’t have challenged it. Hell, even if I’d wanted to, Derek would’ve talked me out of it.”
“Yeah, right,” she mutters.
I lower my voice. “Geoffroy left the entail in place deliberately, Eva, despite all his talk about moving on.”
“You’re twisting it,” she hisses.
I shake my head. “Not at all. I’m reading it like the judge did.”
“Did?” she mocks. “Are you in his head?”
“Slip of the tongue,” I say quickly. “I meant would. Geoffroy’s choice makes it clear. He intended me to be next in line after Julian.”
The silence between us is taut.
Shit. I should’ve led with the proposal, not this sterile debate.
“Look,” I say, forcing a lighter tone. “I’ve been thinking. I have an olive branch you might like.”
“Doubtful but go ahead.”
I cup her cheek. “What if I hired you as my estate manager?”
Her mouth falls open. She looks so stunned, you’d think I said something absurd. But it’s not. It’s the most logical thing we could do, as I realized ten minutes ago.
“Hear me out,” I add quickly. “Yesterday? I would’ve thought it was insane. But then something clicked.”
She’s still silent, eyes narrowing.
“You know the estate better than anyone,” I say. “Every stone. Every fuse box. Every leak. Every ledger. And you care.”
Her lips press together.
I continue, “You’re meticulous, organized, brilliant with numbers.”
She doesn’t acknowledge the compliment.
I press on. “My accountant and I were floored to learn you’d kept this place running while Geoffroy and his useless manager tanked it and Julian sat on his hands.”
Still no response.
“You’re the best person for the job,” I say, reaching for her hand. “Who else could I hire? You’re the woman for it, and I’ll pay top dollar. Whatever Geoffroy paid Eric, I’ll double it.”
Her brow furrows.
“No,” I correct myself. “I’ll triple it.”
Silence.
“As for Millie’s treatment,” I add, “I won’t make empty promises like Geoffroy. We’ll put it in your contract or a separate document, if you prefer.”
I feel her hand slip from mine, but I keep going. “I’ll commit to paying for the best therapy she can get, as long as she needs.”
“I can’t work for you,” she says flatly.
“Eva,” I urge. “Set your pride aside. Think rationally. It’s the best thing for you, for Millie, for the estate, for the duchy.”
She curls her lip. “I can set my pride aside. But have you thought this through?”
I lean back on the pillow, arms folded, bracing for a jab.
“If I took your offer, then this”—she gestures toward our tangled legs under the sheets—“is over. And I don’t mean it in a playful way like Lucie and Maximilian. I won’t sleep with you if you’re my boss, Alex.”
I stare at her, shocked I hadn’t considered that. If I become her employer, sleeping with her would create a power dynamic that could corrode everything between us. After what Geoffroy put her through, it’s no wonder she refuses to be in an unequal relationship.
What the hell was I thinking? How did my logic miss something so obvious?
Then it hits me. I wasn’t thinking like myself at all. My offer wasn’t driven by logic, reason, or strategy.
It was born of fear.
Fear of losing her.