Chapter 27
EILISH
It’s hard to call it a Cinderella moment, because it’s not like I grew up in rags, living with hardship. But even with the life I’ve had, the gala is next level.
Gavan was right: I know millions. But the wealth and glamour on display at the Bijou Gala at the Musée d’Orsay is truly that of billions .
I might have grown up wanting for nothing, with nice cars, nice clothes, and all of that.
But this is the world of the top elite. And that’s why I feel like an actual princess as Gavan leads me through the evening.
There’s ballroom dancing with music provided by the orchestra of the Paris Opera.
We get a private guided tour through a few of the Impressionist collections of the museum, where Elsa almost starts crying at seeing some of her favorite pieces in the flesh.
We meet royalty—like legit, actual royal figures.
First there’s an English duke whom Gavan seems to know personally.
Then, there’s a collective sound of our jaws hitting the floor when he introduces us all to Misha Tsavakov and his wife, Princess Charlotte Bergendem of the Kingdom of Luxlordia, who is next in line to be queen.
It’s a glimpse into a world not even Dimitra Drakos with her English mansion sitting on top of a forty-story building over Central Park knows. And it’s spellbinding .
“Come here.”
I arch a curious brow, blushing as Gavan takes my elbow and pulls me away from the circle where Neve and Callie are geeking the hell out talking to the world-famous model River Finn—who also happens to be married to Gavan’s friend, Yuri Volkov, head of the Volkov Bratva family.
“What’s up?”
Gavan smirks darkly as he spins me around so that he’s at my back.
“The dress is perfect. But I got you a little something to finish it off.”
I gasp as the cool string of diamonds drapes over my collarbones. He fastens it at the nape of my neck before turning me slowly to face a gilded mirror hanging on the museum wall.
My eyes bulge at the gorgeous choker—diamond and silver, with a stunning green emerald at the center.
“Gavan…” I swallow, my eyes locked on the necklace. I shake my head side to side. “I can’t accept—”
“You already have.”
I spin slowly to face him, shivering at the intensity in his eyes as he reaches up to cup my cheek.
“ Beautiful ,” he murmurs with a soft reverence to his voice. Suddenly, he’s leaning down and kissing me.
And my world short-circuits.
We haven’t actually done that before in public. But I don’t freak. I don’t second-guess it, or over-analyze. I just melt into the kiss, sinking against his chest as time loses all meaning around us.
When he slowly pulls back, my heart is thundering in my chest. His eyes are still locked on mine.
“I’m going to get us some champagne.”
I chew on my lip, my face throbbing as I nod. “I…I think that’s a good idea.”
Gavan grins, his hand brushing mine before he turns and strides away toward one of the bars set up around the main gallery hall.
I catch Neve giving me a sharply raised brow with a pointed smirk on her face.
I roll my eyes and turn away, blushing as I meander away through another gallery full of sculptures by Degas and Rodin.
At the far end of the room, I step out onto a quiet terrace overlooking an empty inner courtyard. I inhale and exhale deeply, feeling something wild and freeing coursing through my veins.
This is no longer an “arrangement”.
I think I’ve fallen for Gavan.
Actually, there’s no “I think” about it.
I have fallen for him.
“I thought you were smarter than to insult me like this, Eilish.”
The mood shatters like glass, the shards raking down my skin as my blood runs cold. I turn, and my face goes white as I come face-to-face with Brooks McKinnley.
His lips curl dangerously.
This is the first time I’ve ever found myself alone with Brooks since that party I should never have gone to during my senior year of high school. And the second I realize just how alone we really are, my body begins to turn numb.
Like it did that night.
“ What do you want ?” I choke.
He glares at me. “Respect, for one. Eilish, I made you and your family a solid offer. An alliance with my family? Given the Senate committee my father oversees? Are you fucking joking ? I’m your reusable get out of jail free card.
” He shakes his head angrily. “And yet, you ignore my offer. Worse, now I see you parading around like some Bratva whore with Gavan fucking Tsarenko.”
My mouth tightens.
“ Fuck you , assho—”
“I’d watch what you say to me,” he snarls viciously, making my heart leap into my throat as I back away from him. “I don’t take kindly to insults, Eilish.” He sneers, nodding his chin at my choker. “Did he get that for you?”
“ Yes ,” I spit back. “And he will be back any second. And when he finds you threatening me, you’re going to realize what I’ve known for years about you—that you’re an arrogant, pampered, spoiled fucking idiot .”
I almost choke as Brooks lunges at me, shoving me back and pinning me against the stone terrace railing. He looms over me, his hand wrapped tight around one of my wrists.
“Does he know you used to be my whore?”
Bile rises in my stomach like acid. I blanch as a wave of nausea spreads through me.
Brooks smiles cruelly. “You remember that night, don’t you… babe ?”
My lips curl into a sneer. “ I remember ,” I spit venomously. “I remember you spiking my drink,” I choke. “I remember you shoving me into that bedroom and trying to take my clothes off while I couldn’t say no. While I couldn’t fucking move !”
I was barely eighteen when Brooks dragged me to a “cool kids” party at the end of senior year.
I remember him passing me a drink with a smile.
I barely drank back then. Even so, two or three sips of a vodka soda later, the room was spinning.
There must have been something in it. Enough to incapacitate me.
Not enough that I don’t remember everything that happened next.
When he led me upstairs and away from the party. When he pulled me into a bedroom and locked the door.
I couldn’t move at all while he had me on the bed, trying to yank off my jeans.
Then he shoved his hand down my underwear and roughly tried to finger me.
All of this while I could. Not. Move .
Brooks only stopped that night because he got angry at “how fucking dry I was”. I spent another two hours in that room silently crying, still unable to move. When I finally could again, I ran home, a fucking wreck.
Only to find Brooks waiting for me on my front steps. That’s when he told me the dirt he had on me.
My shameful mistake.
I’d only gone out with Brooks in the first place because I was suddenly aware how uncool I was. How unpopular I was in school despite being—or maybe because of it—head of the class, academically. Brooks was cool, and rich, and popular, and he was nice to me. So we went out.
Then, when it became clear to him that I wasn’t going to “do anything” beyond kissing, things got…weird. Pushy. Aggressive. What happened at the party was the final straw that sent me running from him.
But a few weeks before that, I’d done something stupid.
I’d given in when Brooks called me late one night, drunk, begging for me to “help him out”. He was horny , he said. He’d been so patient with my “blue-balling”, he said. And he asked—more like bullied me—into “assisting” him over the phone.
It was hands down the grossest thing I’ve ever done. I talked dirty—or at least made a cringey, terrible attempt at taking dirty—to Brooks while he jerked off on the other end of the line.
And then, that night on my front steps after he assaulted me, I found to my horror that he’d recorded that phone call.
That was his leverage. If I ever told anyone about what had happened at the party, he’d make sure the recording of me saying gross, horrible, porn-star things over the phone went public.
For the last three and a half years, I haven’t told a soul about that night. Not even my sister.
Brooks sneers at me as he looms over me, my back still against the stone railing.
“A man can only take so much cock-teasing, Eilish. What you were doing wasn’t fucking cool.”
I blink, bile rising in my throat.
“I’m sorry, what I was doing ?”
“You know damn well what the fuck I’m taking about. Teasing me. Leading me the fuck on. Giving me blue balls over and fucking over. C’mon, we both know you wanted me to fuck you. You were just being coy about it. And that’s what that night was supposed to be. Instead, you fucking ruined it.”
I stare at him. “Are you fucking deranged ?! Brooks, you disgusting pig, you fucking drugged me and tried to shove your fingers into me! And then you got angry because I wasn’t wet !”
Tears bead in my eyes like hot lead, my chest hitching as I try and suck in air.
“Get away from me,” I spit.
Brooks shakes his head. “I don’t like being ignored, Eilish. And I will not take some Bratva thug’s sloppy seconds.” He glares at me. “Have you fucked him?”
My lips curl. “ A hundred times ,” I sneer. “Gladly. Willingly. He’s good. And huge .”
Instantly, I regret my decision to taunt him. Because Brooks’ face goes livid .
“Maybe he’d like to hear you begging for my dick,” he hisses. “We’ll see if he even wants you once I play him that recording—”
It happens in the blink of an eye. Something dark surges into Brooks, ripping him from me and sending him flying across the terrace. The black shape is on him instantly, the dull sound of a fist pounding flesh echoing loudly in my ears.
Gavan is sitting astride Brooks’ face, savagely beating the absolute shit out of him.
Instantly, the terrace is flooded with men in dark suits and earpieces, whom I realize are Brooks’ security detail. But before I can even take a breath to scream, Gavan’s whirling, leaping off Brooks, and diving right into the thick of them.
My jaw drops.