Chapter 26
EVELINA
“Well, this is a surprise.”
Roman chuckles on the other end of the line. “Am I that bad at calling you?”
“Rome, we live in the same house and I don’t think I’ve seen or spoken to you for a week.”
He snorts. “Hey, it’s a big house. And I keep tabs on you through Val.”
I roll my eyes as I adjust the AirPod in my ear and then ease my hands down my outstretched left leg, relaxing into the deep stretch in my hamstring.
“I’m not sure ‘my boyfriend is the intermediary between me and my sister’ is quite the flex you think it is.”
My brother laughs. “You’re right. Can we catch up sometime soon? Dinner?”
“Anytime. You’re the one with the impossible schedule, pakhan,” I say dryly.
Roman goes quiet for a second before he clears his throat. “Actually, there was something important I was calling you about.”
I frown. “Your ridiculous schedule?”
“No. Dad.”
I tense, the smile fading from my lips.
Roman sighs. “I got some news from Moscow this morning.”
Oh God.
“Rome—”
“He’s fine, Evie,” he grumbles.
I exhale heavily.
“He’s apparently struck a deal with the Egorov family,” he grunts. “I don’t know shit about them, but they’re a small-time bratva family. I have no idea what the fuck Pavel had to offer them, but he’s officially under their protection now.”
“Well, don’t sound too happy about it,” I mutter.
“Evie, you’ll forgive my lack of fucks to give about our father after he stuck a fucking gun in Val’s face and mine, in case you’ve forgotten,” he says sharply.
“I haven’t,” I sigh. “It’s just… He’s our father.”
“That’s a matter of perspective,” he snaps. “And it’s pretty clear we have differing ones on the subject.”
“I know he’s an asshole!” I yell. “I know he’s done awful, unforgivable things. But I'm sorry, I still don't want to see him killed!”
“I don’t either, Eves! If I did, he’d be fucking dead, not banished!”
Both of us go quiet for a moment.
“You weren’t there,” he says gently. “You didn’t see him put a fucking gun to the forehead of someone you love so much it hurts. I may not want to see my own father dead, but in every other sense of the word, he’s fucking dead to me already. I need you to understand that.”
I nod, closing my eyes. “You're right, Rome,” I exhale. “I wasn’t there. It’s just…”
“I know,” he says.
We both take a breath before I blow air through my lips. “Can we please change the subject?”
He chuckles quietly. “I’d love to talk about literally anything else. And on that note…” He clears his throat. “I saw Ethan Campbell this morning.”
I stiffen. “You weren’t kidding about anything else. My psychotically overprotective big brother wants to talk about my ex-boyfriend?”
Roman laughs. “You know how I’ve been looking into better asset management for the organization?
Ethan’s a senior managing partner at Hudson Equity, and he reached out the other day.
I’m probably going to go with Ironclad Holdings, since that's Gavan Tsarenko’s firm and he’s also bratva and all.
But Ethan gave a pretty compelling pitch, and I respect that he came to me despite… you know…”
I roll my eyes. “What, kissing me a handful of times? When he was my boyfriend? The audacity.”
“Har har har,” Roman laughs. “It still took balls. So we sat down this morning.”
“And?”
“It was a great presentation, and their performance numbers are solid, but I’m probably still going with Gavan.”
I frown. “So… Why are you telling me this?”
Roman exhales. “Because Ethan may have asked me about you, and if I would pass along his number.”
I arch a brow. “Really?”
My phone dings.
“Really,” Roman chuckles. “I just texted it to you.”
This is a bad idea.
Really bad.
I know that. But there’s another part of me that is shrugging nonchalantly on the inside as I hug Ethan and walk into the restaurant with him.
So what if I want to have dinner with an old friend? Someone who might even be doing business with my family?
That’s all this is: a catchup.
I scowl to myself as Ethan pulls out my chair in the private dining room of Trasimeno. Why am I justifying this as if I’m presenting to a grand jury? I’m not doing anything wrong.
He’s made that perfectly clear.
Vaughn isn’t my boyfriend. We’re not a “we”. We just…have sex a lot.
Really good, really rough sex.
Beyond that, I’m simply a potential pledge to his organization.
No more.
Again, he’s made that abundantly clear.
Also, I’m not doing anything wrong by having dinner with Ethan. I’m not cheating on anyone. There’s nothing remotely romantic about this dinner aside from the ancient history that Ethan and I very briefly dated.
I wasn’t really interested in him then, and I’m certainly not now.
He’s cute and charming enough, but…no. And besides, even if I was interested in pursuing something with him again, it’s not even on the table.
Ethan filled me in on his fiancée—who sounds lovely—when we caught up earlier on the phone.
Ugh, why the hell do I still feel like I need to defend this?
“So,” Ethan smiles after our waiter pours some wine and then discreetly exits. “I sort of indirectly asked earlier, but you danced around the answer.”
I smile curiously as I lift my glass to his in a toast. “Indirectly asked what?”
Ethan chuckles. “If you were seeing anyone.”
Guilt stabs into me. I hate that it does.
“No,” I shake my head.
I'm just violently fucking someone on demand, entirely on his schedule. And yes, I’m aware how pathetic that sounds.
I laugh lightly. “Nope, nothing serious. Not like you!” I gush. “Tell me more about this fiancée!”
Ethan beams. “Evelyn.” Then he makes a face. “I know, it sounds like I’m being weird and looking for another Evie. I swear, I'm not.”
We both laugh, and Ethan shakes his head as he takes a sip of his wine.
“She goes by Linny for short.” He shrugs. “She’s British. It’s a thing over there.”
I smile across the table. “How’d you guys meet?”
He chuckles. “Work, actually. She’s in private equity…” He sighs. “At Ironclad Holdings, actually…Gavan Tsarenko’s firm, which I’m betting your brother is probably going to end up going with?”
I make a pained face. “I…”
“It’s okay.” He clucks his teeth. “I figured.”
“Feel free to bail on dinner.”
He laughs. “Wouldn’t dream of it. It’s good to see you, Evie.”
“Yeah, you too,” I smile as the door opens and our waiter walks back in with our appetizers.
Ethan’s just finished telling me about his and Evelyn’s plan to possibly move back to England in the next few years, and I’m starting to tell him about the Zakharova, when the door to the private room is kicked open.
I’m turning to see why our waiter just barged in like that when I see the frozen, shocked expression on Ethan’s face as he looks past me.
Oh fuck…
“Vaughn!”
I jump out of my chair. But he’s already barreling past me like a freight train and grabbing Ethan by the collar.
“What the fuck?!” Ethan yells, grabbing Vaughn’s wrists and trying to yank his hands away. “Who the—” Recognition suddenly bursts across his face. “Wait, you’re that motherfucker who got me wasted a few weeks ago!” His lip curls, and his eyes shoot across the table to me.
“Is this your ‘nothing serious’ guy?!” he snaps before glaring at Vaughn. “Get your goddamn hands off me, you fucking psychopath. What didn’t sink in the other night when you fed me those cocktails and God-knows-what else. I told you everything.”
I shiver as he jerks his focus back to me.
“Yeah, your fucking boyfriend drugged me, Evie. Picked a real winner here!”
I whirl on Vaughn. “You did what?!”
“I’m going to make this very simple,” Vaughn growls at Ethan. “Leave. Now.”
Ethan snorts. “Try again, psycho. I’m not doing anything wrong and I’m not going anywhere. I’m a friend of the house, you dickhead.”
Vaughn’s blue eyes glint lethally as his mouth curls into a dark smile. “Not anymore, you aren't. I just bought the place.”
He yanks a folded contract out of his jacket pocket and slaps it on the table before he gets right into Ethan’s face.
“Consider yourself no longer a friend of the house.”
Vaughn jabs a finger into Ethan’s chest.
“I would also consider leaving in the next four seconds,” he continues. “Unless you’d like your teeth for dessert.”
Ethan turns and shoots me a cold look. “What the fuck, Evie.”
“Ethan, I am so sorry—”
“Tell your brother he can take his business wherever the fuck he wants. I’m not interested in this shit.”
He shoves past Vaughn and storms out without another word.
My face is tight and throbbing as I slowly turn to stare at Vaughn.
“What the actual fuck,” I hiss, “was that?!”
Vaughn looks at me utterly calmly, arching a brow in amusement as he plucks my wine glass off the table and takes a sip. “So, we’re swearing now?”
“I can’t keep up!” I scream at him. “I mean, you’re with me, and you fuck me, and you save me. Then you tell me we’re not in a relationship—”
“Because we’re not—”
“And then you pull that!” I scream, jabbing a thumb at the door. “Here I am, having dinner with a friend—”
“Don’t,” he growls, the smug look on his face dropping like a stone. He sets the wine glass down, and my breath hitches as he steps close, looming over me. “Don’t tell me he’s a friend.”
I bark out a cold laugh. “What, are you jealous of a perfectly nice guy I went on a few dates with? It was years ago! And I didn’t even sleep with him, not that it’s any of your fucking business!”
Vaughn’s jaw tightens. “And yet, he seems to be a fixture in your dreams.”
I stare at him before a puzzle piece clicks softly into place.
“Wooooow,” I spit bitterly. “The audacity to get mad at me for having a dream—which, obviously, I can totally control the content of—about a guy besides you, while reminding me that we’re not in a relationship, all in the same breath.
” I bark out a mirthless laugh. “Oh, and a dream you only knew I had in the first place because you broke into my house to grope me in my sleep like a fucking psychopath!”
“Careful, princess.”