Chapter 27
EVIE
After my reaction in the jewelry store, I spend the next few days making sure I’m around Oliver as little as possible. I go to work, take on an extra shift, and go to Nora’s so often I think she must be sick of the sight of me. It feels like Bo and I walk the length and breadth of London, pausing only for coffee (a puppuccino for him) and snacks in outdoor cafés. We sit under a variety of trees and parasols as I try not to contemplate life and the mess I’m making of it as London bustles by. I’m not just avoiding Oliver; I’m avoiding the feelings that being near him bring. I can’t think straight when he’s standing in front of me.
Meanwhile, the ring from Garrard sits on the dresser in my bedroom, a daily reminder of the mess I’ve gotten myself into.
“This is for you.”
I jolt at the sound of Oliver’s voice, almost dropping my toast in shock. I know he already left because I waited until I heard the door click closed before leaving my room.
He sets a folder on the table next to my napkin.
“Visa stuff?” As I glance up, I find he’s wearing black-framed glasses. I discovered last week that he wears them for reading. I’d smiled and squirreled away the tiny fact, imagining his vanity had kept it from me. This morning, it feels more like a reminder that we’re not in a relationship.
“I thought you’d want to read through the paperwork.” Sliding the frames from his face, he folds them and slips them into his jacket pocket. His chosen suit is navy today, his shirt open at the neck, his watch a chunky silver Chopard. “Ariana said she’d taken you through the gist of things before she submitted the application.”
“Yeah, she did. And I got my receipt with the processing times. It seems you’ll have your house before my visa comes through.”
He nods, then adds, “That doesn’t mean things have to change.”
“What do you mean?” Silly heart, please calm down.
“That you don’t have to move out.”
My laughter sounds strange. “I was thinking I’d find myself a place way before then. I might start looking next week. You know, after the big meet.” The big meet that might go so badly that he’ll want to be rid of me, because I have no idea what he thinks I’ll be able to achieve.
“No.” One adamant word, his diction sharp. “That doesn’t suit me. The agreement was three months, and we’re barely one month in.”
“Oliver, I need to pull my life together. I can’t hide out here forever.”
He folds his arms across his chest, staring down at me as though I’m some wayward subordinate who might be cowed by his magnificence. I’m not cowed, but I am appreciative. Which is an issue in itself.
“I have to get on with my life.”
“If you leave before the twelve weeks is up, it’s a breach of contract,” he intones stonily.
“You know a verbal contract isn’t worth the paper it isn’t printed on,” I counter in the opposite tone, all jokey and lighthearted.
“Eve.” He steps closer, his finger under my chin as he brings my gaze to his. “Don’t test me on this.”
I make a derisive noise as I jerk from his hold. My heart shoots into my throat as, like a prizefighter knocked down, I’m on my feet as though my survival depends on it.
“You don’t get to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do.” My tone is low and hard. Bo scrambles out from under the table, stepping between us with a low growl. He hunkers down, hackles rising in his fur. “You think you’re the only one who can be a pain in the ass? You think me being here can’t get difficult for you?”
Oliver reaches for the remains of my toast, then Bo is chasing it across the room. My fair-weather friend’s taste for peanut butter makes him a shitty guard dog.
“Don’t tell me. You’re going to withhold sex?”
“Having sex with you would imply I like you.” My eyes glitter over him. “Or at least some part of you.”
“If you need reminding which parts of me you do like, just let me know.”
“I don’t like any part of you.”
“Oh, but you do. Read the documents, darling.” Reaching out, he taps the folder with his index finger.
Wariness skitters down my spine. He’d better not have ...
“No. My application is for a working visa.” Ariana, the immigration lawyer said so. “I checked the paperwork before I signed it.”
“And the supplemental documents? My signed affidavit? Did you happen to see that?”
“What affidavit?” What the hell is he up to now?
“We decided a settled relationship would be an extra layer of solidity to your application. So that’s what we have, you and I. You wouldn’t want to move out before you have your visa and prove that a lie.”
I inhale a deep breath, but I will not resort to cussing him out. “We agreed my visa wouldn’t be dependent on a relationship with you.”
“It isn’t. Not wholly. It’s just an added safeguard. A man of my standing wouldn’t commit visa fraud.”
“I don’t give a flying fuck about your standing. Take it out. I don’t want it—I don’t want any link to you.”
“How would that look, given it’s already been submitted? A canceled spousal visa followed by a failed relationship. Be sensible, Eve. Think of how it would look.”
I don’t feel sensible. I feel rage filled. I physically vibrate with a deep loathing for his interference, his underhanded manipulation. Why would he force me to stay longer? I just don’t get it. “You are ...” I growl low and hard.
“Yes. I’m all those words running through your head and more. But I feel like we’ve had this conversation before.” He takes his glasses from his pocket, examining them briefly before slipping them on.
Glasses. The word pings in my head. I step away, putting a little distance between us as I think. The tiara try-on session. The ring. No, not the ring. That was another step in his fucked-up plans. Fancy Nutella, peanut butter, his driver at my disposal—a dozen other little things. I know Oliver is far from perfect. I know he’s not even someone I should trust, but people aren’t wholly good or bad. Human nature is a thing of duality.
Was the affidavit his attempt at helping? Does he want me to stay? Something flutters in my chest, but I push it away.
“You love it, don’t you?” Cocking my hip, I fold my arms across my chest. “You love playing up to your villainous alter ego.”
His response? A bored look as he fastens a button of his jacket.
“I know I said you were the devil, but I’m not sure that’s really you.” Not really all of you. “Were you even going to have me deported?” I’m not grasping at straws, but this just doesn’t make sense.
His mouth tips, and as he saunters closer, I force myself to stand my ground. “Your optimism is truly astounding.” His hand lifts to cup my cheek, and my pulse skips a beat. “I know who I am, Eve. I know my own faults. In fact, I embrace them.”
Up close, his hair is slicked back perfectly, his jaw razor sharp and smooth. He smells like cologne and Oliver voodoo. He smells like I should be anywhere else but near him.
“By buying me a half dozen pairs of reading glasses?” With a flutter of my fingers, I add, “By dotting them around the place for me to find when I need them?”
“Darling, you’re confusing an act of convenience with someone who gives a fuck.”
I blink, trying to process the truth over a piercing hurt.
“What’s done is done. You’re committed. You will stay, and you will play your part.”
“Until the bitter end?” I snipe.
“Yes, until then.” His hand slides down my arm and I watch as he pulls his phone from his pocket, passing it over. “Take heart, it’s all part of the bigger plan.”
“Not again,” I whisper, staring down at an image of myself, this time with him. We’re outside of the jewelers’, hand in hand. My cheeks are flushed, and I’m laughing, high on tiara window-shopping and residual embarrassment.
A Little Bird Told Us ...
our Pulse Tok bride is moving on.
The saga continues!
This is different. At the side of the column is a byline attributed to Una Smith, the journalist from the clinic. Looks like she got herself a whole new column. I glance up, though Oliver’s expression gives nothing away.
“Una’s gone up in the world.”
“I think that all depends on your definition.”
“Did you have a hand in her promotion?”
“How?”
“Are you asking me to guess?” You twisty mother trucker.
“If you read it, you’ll find it all very self-explanatory.”
That’s not an answer, but lowering my gaze, I scan the text.
Doggy doctor Evie Fairfax, our infamous Pulse Tok bride, has been spotted out in Mayfair on the arm of one of Europe’s most eligible bachelors, Oliver Deubel.
Spotted leaving Garrard the next, you.”
“People will always have opinions. Caring about them is a choice.” Reaching out, he loops a lock of hair behind my ear before I can pull away. “I don’t care what people think. The only person I need you to convince is the man you’ll meet this weekend.”
“The house,” I say flatly. At least it’s not all about Lucy.
“The estate, yes.”
“Will Mitchell be there?” A cold stone settles in my stomach at the thought.
“I don’t know.” It seems he doesn’t care either way. Can’t say I feel the same way.
“What if he chooses to retaliate? Or causes a scene?”
“While I enjoy reminding him what he’s lost, I don’t think he’s that sloppy. Besides,” he adds, bending down at the appearance of Judas— I mean, Bo —to scratch him behind his floppy ear. “He knows you’ve moved on with a better man.”
I make a flat line of my mouth and keep my thoughts to myself. A devil of a man.
“I’m glad we understand each other. That we’ve cleared the air.” He stands, done with these topics. Me, not so much.
“You could’ve just told me some of this. Said you were trying to help my visa, that you had a better plan or whatever.”
“Yes, because you would’ve been so wonderfully receptive,” he replies, not without scorn.
“You really are a piece of work,” I say, standing. I neatly push my chair under the table before glancing his way. When our eyes meet, there’s no regret in his.
“I’m glad you’re seeing that now.”