Chapter 15 Eva
EVA
It has been twelve days since Mason Grant had his masked friends take me at The Vault. I have been losing to him ever since.
How he can simply walk into my flat every night and leave hours later, completely undetected, is a mystery I cannot solve.
Jack has access to all the Charlton House cameras. It’s under constant surveillance by him, the guards, or the Kingsden security. Yet, no one catches him. I guess locks just fling open, and cameras look in the other direction for Grants in Fort.
His visits are growing bolder with every passing night, too.
It’s not just my tied hands anymore, I wake up to something new every day— a browser page open on my laptop showing ‘the side effects of long-term use of propranolol, a beta blocker,’ his Instagram profile on my phone screen with his every photo liked and the worst of all, his name in my contacts, which he changes every night to something outrageous like King or Owner.
I have to change it back every morning to the more accurate description of him—Stalker.
And then there are the random texts –
Stalker
Going to be late tonight. Ease up on the pills.
Stalker
Powell isn’t a walking stick. Keep your hands off him.
Stalker
FYI. The cereal bars on your desk have expired.
We are in a Cold War.
No weapons.
No strength.
No glares.
And still… I’m losing. Badly.
He is slowly infiltrating my mind, seeping beneath my skin, leaving another mark with every visit, and I can’t stop him. I’m getting used to waking up to his scent, with the taste of him on my tongue, thinking and throbbing for him hours later. How does that even work?
It’s no good trying to detox from him all day, only to be back in his presence later.
I almost confided in Jack one day. It was on the tip of my tongue, but my painless forearm stopped me.
Even though I hate his guts and loathe the fact that he gets to invade my privacy, witnessing who knows what, I can’t deny he has stopped the vicious cycle I had hopelessly surrendered to.
I don’t know if it’s just his presence or my tied hands, but there are no wounds on my arms, and my roommates never heard me scream again.
But it’s only a matter of time before one of them sees him sneak in.
Caden already suspects, but hasn’t brought it up again, nor did I bring up his new Fort friends to give him an opening.
We usually head back to his flat after class every day since it’s closer, and that way I’m not getting picked up by black suits in front of the whole campus.
It’s also easier to throw myself into coursework with Caden.
The only distraction that works. Sometimes.
I’m fighting for every inch of normalcy at this point, but I’m ready to die on that hill.
Though today, I wish I weren’t coming back with Caden. His roommate, Chris, is home with his girlfriend, Grace. And I can no longer avoid what I have been putting off for days. The phone call with my godmother.
“There you are.” Grace throws her arms in the air, standing at the threshold of Caden’s flat, as we return from class in the late afternoon. “Get in already.”
“The next dinner is on me if you get me out of this,” I mutter to Caden as she grabs my arm and drags me through the lounge.
Caden’s roommates stand at the center of the room, trying to knock empty beer bottles lined up on the counter with tennis balls, and missing every time.
“Hey, Etheridge, looking fit,” Nick hoots with a drunken grin.
Chris gives me a tired wave as Grace pulls me into his room and slams the door shut.
“Let’s get this over with,” she says, spraying Chanel into the air, like that will cover the smell of grease, sweat, and sex.
“You think Valerie can pick up the scent on FaceTime?” I ask. Grace rolls her eyes, then closes the curtains and settles on Chris’s bed.
“You ready?” She wiggles her eyebrows.
I let out a deep sigh and throw my bag on the floor.
“What’s that?” Grace asks. I follow her gaze to my waist. My bruised hip, peeking out of my skirt. “That looks nasty. What did you do?”
“Walk into stuff in the dark, as usual.” I drag my top down and sit next to her. She gives me a pointed look but doesn’t push it.
Both of us sit up straight, shoulder to shoulder, a closeness we are not used to, then plaster on our best smiles. Not too wide, just enough to show this is not a rare occurrence.
“Girls,” Valerie chimes, her face filling the screen.
She looks better than when I saw her at the funeral.
Her blonde hair is up in a tidy bun. She sits poised with a cup of tea in her French-manicured hands, in front of her botanical temple of peace lilies, a hobby she and Mum have in common.
We had more soil inside the house than outside, thanks to the jungle of house plants Dan and I had to climb over to get to the landing.
Valerie has always been vibrant and outgoing, like her daughter, and just as beautiful, though she can be overbearing and garrulous.
I have known Valerie my whole life. She takes her role as godmother very seriously.
Same as Mum with Grace. Not only are Mum and her best friends, but they are practically soul sisters.
Something they hoped would be the same for Grace and me.
But we are too different. Still, we pretend for their sake.
“How are you, Eva?” She zeros in on me, instantly. “I heard you’re ghosting Doctor Janet.”
“I spoke to her last week.” I throw a hand in the air.
“Twice a week, hon, you promised.” She hugs the cup to her chest.
“Mum. Let it go,” Grace intervenes. “She just settled in.”
Valerie lifts a hand defensively, eyes dancing with a mixture of amusement and frustration. “Sorry, sorry, I know I’m being annoying. Let’s talk about boys, then. You’re both keeping up with your shots, right?”
“Val, can you not?” I groan.
“Seriously, Mum?” Grace looks at the closed door and turns down the volume aggressively.
“What?” Valerie throws out a palm. “Would you rather Jonathan or Elton talk to you about this stuff?”
Hell, no. Mum has been taking me to the clinic, tracking my shots, since I was fifteen. I definitely don’t need the birds-and-bees talk. From anyone.
“How is Dad?” Grace asks, changing the topic swiftly.
“He’s been cutting back on surgeries, so he’s been home more, which is nice…” She half-smiles, then looks directly at me. “But he’s been spending too much time with Elton.”
Great, Jonathan is part of the whole charade, too.
“You stay put, Eva.” Valerie shoots me a pointed look. “It’s bad enough that Elton parades Daniel around London like a trophy.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I mutter. “Dan still hasn’t answered my calls or texts.”
I catch Valerie glance at Grace swiftly. “Anyway, it’s so lovely to see you together. It’s been so long since you two called, I was planning on paying you a visit.”
“Don’t,” Grace all but shouts. I knock her stilettos with my trainers.
Valerie’s cup pauses, her eyes squinting to slits. “Why not? What’s going on?”
Brilliant.
My head snaps to Grace, who purses her lips in apology. I take out my phone, shaking my head, and text Jack to pick me up an hour later, then return to the third-degree Grace just signed us up for.
Forty minutes later, Valerie is still drilling us on all sorts of trivial nothings when my phone pings.
Stalker
You have overstayed your visit with these men. Time to leave.
My teeth clench as I hold my breath. He is stalking me at Caden’s house now? Does the King of Fort have nothing better to do? Why can’t he go bother some of his fangirls? He has plenty.
I click my phone shut and turn my attention back to Valerie’s anecdotes.
A minute later—
Stalker
Ignoring me isn't going to make me go away, little dove.
My rule of thumb is not to engage with his texts, but Valerie has used up all my patience today.
Can you keep it down? You’re interrupting my orgy.
Stalker
Watch it.
I’m trying to decide which one of them should have my virginity. Thoughts?
Stalker
Depends. Which one of them do you want a bullet in first?
Jack is downstairs. You don’t scare me.
Stalker
Is that so?
Yes
Stalker
I’m walking in as I type. If you don’t want their blood on your hands, leave now. You have 2 minutes.
For a fraction of a second, I stay frozen, staring at the words, my eyes widening by the second. He can’t be serious?
“Eva?” Valerie prompts me when I don’t fake laugh at her big punchline.
But I’m a little too preoccupied. I jump to my feet and run to the window, pulling the curtains so hard I almost tear them off the rails. My hand flies to my chest. Mason’s black Ducati is parked outside. No Mason.
“What’s wrong?” Grace asks.
“Jack’s here,” I stutter, grabbing my bag from the floor. “I have to go. Bye, Val.” I throw her a flying kiss, then leave an angry Grace alone with Valerie.
“Leaving?” Caden asks over his mouthful of sandwich.
“Yeah, Penny needs me,” I lie, heading straight for the door. “Are you coming over tonight?”
“Nah, I have a thing.” He cocks his head towards his roommates.
“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” I wave.
“Later, Etheridge,” Nick grumbles over his burger, spraying Chris, who chucks an onion back in Nick’s face.
I close the door behind me, internally shaking myself to even joke about being involved with these gremlins. My eyes scan the phone, checking the time, as I walk out of the porch and find the Bentley parked outside.
“Wow, you’re early,” Jack cheers, folding his magazine as I struggle to pull the seatbelt.
“Don’t get too excited. It’s a one-off,” I say, finally managing to strap myself in. “Can we go, please?”
Jack looks over his shoulder suspiciously but turns on the engine. I glance out the back window. Mason’s bike is not by the lamppost where I saw it. My head spins in all directions as the car pulls into the main street.
Ping.
Stalker
Good girl. Careful next time. A joke like that could get your friends very hurt.
I chuck my phone toward my bag with a little too much force, cross my arms over my chest and stare out the window.
A moment later, a flash of black ghosts past, overtaking us and roaring down the road.
Dickhead.