Chapter 25 Eva
EVA
Penny
Did we lose you to the void, your Highness?
I would rather be in a void than here. I just spent the afternoon listening to my therapist tell Dan I’m packing trauma.
Penny
Bitch! Give me her number. I’ll take care of her.
And now he is driving me to a lunch while a solicitor is boring me with some nonsense. Or maybe he’s the accountant. It’s too late to ask.
Thea
Has he mentioned due diligence or without prejudice in the last two minutes?
Yep
Thea
Solicitor
Thanks
Penny
Can we quit the nerd talk? Eva, tell your hot, pain of a brother to let you come back tonight. No later than 9 pm.
Thea
Ignore her. She’s fishing for the VIP invite to 99.
I’ll try my best.
A flicker of motion lifts my gaze when Dan hits the touchscreen of his Aston Martin to mute the call, a little too aggressively.
“What?” I shrug, my phone, which Jack finally retrieved for me after three days, still lit up in my hands.
“Are you listening?” Dan asks, looking particularly boring, dressed in an all-black suit.
“What do you think?” I lift one palm.
“For fuck’s sake, Eva. This is important.”
“Then, translate,” I drawl. “Not all of us got a business degree overnight. I have no idea what he’s talking about.”
“You’re a major shareholder. I need these documents signed before you leave.” He looks at the black file in my lap. “Can you at least try to pay attention?”
“I’ll sign whatever you want.” I motion toward the screen. “Just get him to stop talking.”
Dan lets out a long exhale. Like I am the one who is being unreasonable.
I’m happy to have a seat on the Etheridge board to support Dan, but I couldn’t care less about shares or the ever-expanding real-estate map.
This is not my thing. Policies that change people’s lives and make the world a better place?
Yes please. Corporate contracts? Hell, no.
So, if he wants me to pretend to be involved, he’d better make this easy for me.
Dan has been checking everything I sign since I signed up for a two-year gym membership, anyway.
Dan hits the screen again.
“Thanks, Colby. I think Eva gets the picture. I’ll fill in the blanks.”
He doesn’t wait for Colby to respond before he ends the call.
One beat.
Two.
…
Ten.
“What now?” I complain.
“I didn’t say anything.” Dan lifts a shoulder, his eyes on the road as he indicates left toward the docks on the Thames.
“Don’t do that,” I snap. “You know I hate that.”
He gets it from Mum. She is an expert on the silent treatment, wearing me down from “packing to spend the summer backpacking with Caden” in the morning to “packing gowns and heels for galas and musicals in London” by the evening, just by acting aloof all day long. I can’t stand it.
“I’ll sign whatever you want?” Dan quotes. “Is that the same strategy you apply to Mason Grant?” He spits his name with venom.
“Can you chill? I told you, Chinese wall. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
Dan mutters something unintelligible to himself as he parks at the docks. It’s been like this since he dragged me out of Devereux Hall last night. He talked my ears off until the crack of dawn. I woke up on my bed, still in my ballgown.
But even after the whole drama, I don’t regret last night.
I shouldn’t want Mason. That’s clear. But I do.
I can’t deny it anymore. Mason’s lethal charm, the edge of danger that radiates off him as he breaks down my defense and strips my chains, feeds my darkest desires.
My brain keeps waving red flags, but my body still aches for him, even with the soreness between my legs.
The further I pushed him, the more I fell into him.
And now that he’s taken the last vulnerable part of me, all I’m left with is need.
I don’t know what I have with Mason. But I won’t let some archaic family dispute stop me.
I’m done with Grandpa and Daniel making my decisions for me under the illusion of security.
The guards in their tinted Porsche SUVs park behind us. Pouring out and buttoning their suits in an instant.
“So polite nods and smiles for lunch, too? I have to say, you totally rocked planning my visit.”
“I have a feeling you might like this one a little better.”
I look from Dan to the Etheridge yacht, which is ready to sail at the dock, my nose scrunching in suspicion.
I have been on this cruiser numerous times, but that usually involved lots of family drama and almost always ended with either Dad threatening to throw Grandpa into the Thames or vice versa, ignoring any of Mum’s attempts to keep the peace.
Never successfully. The only thing Dad and Grandpa have in common is Mum.
I’m not big on water. But Dan has been ready to skipper the yacht since early teens.
I hope he isn’t planning to steal it to the South of France like we did on my sixteenth birthday.
Is he? He better not. This impromptu long weekend has already put me behind on my studies.
Caden is going to have to work overtime to catch me up as it is, I can’t afford to miss any more lectures.
My brother chuckles at my expression and motions me out.
The yacht is quiet. Too quiet. I assumed it would be crawling with more of Dan’s elite network. That’s why my ivory skirt is silk and my top a soft, pale georgette. I even let Kate accessorize me with a long-beaded necklace.
“About time.” A familiar voice comes from the top berth. Dan and I look up and find Grace, leaning over the railing, dressed in a light yellow dress, which makes her blond hair glint in the soft sunlight.
“Seriously?” I turn to Dan. “She’s my big surprise? I see her every day.”
Then a movement below the berth catches my eye. I barely have time to yelp before a blur of fur and floppy ears launches itself at me.
“Lily,” I shriek, stumbling back as our family Beagle jumps at me, paws thumping against my chest. She nearly knocks me over before burying my face in a storm of licks.
“Down, Lily!” Valerie’s voice rings from the doorway.
But Lily’s too thrilled to listen. Wet nose and tongue rub against my cheeks as I laugh through the onslaught, sinking my fingers into her fur.
“I missed you so much, Lil.” I almost cry at the sight of her.
The last time I saw her was before the funeral, when my godparents, the lovely people they are, offered to keep her because Dan is hardly home and Grandpa is deathly allergic to dogs.
Or so he claims. Still, she’s just one more thing I wish I’d fought harder to keep.
Valerie swoops in the second I stand, her Chanel thick enough to steal the air from my lungs. She kisses both cheeks, then locks me in a hug that could crack ribs. I manage a half-wave toward Jonathan at the door, with what little movement her tight grip allows.
“Mum, let her go. I need Eva for a moment.” Grace hurries down the steps, urgency clear on her face.
“Don’t be too long, girls.” Jonathan sips his wine. “Or we’re starting without you.”
“Go ahead, Dad,” Grace replies and hooks her arm through mine, pulling me into the suite cabin.
“If this is about…” I start.
“It’s not.” She points at the mirror.
I catch my reflection. My hand flies to my mouth as I see the three huge, red blotches on my neck. My cheeks burn to match the shade. All that carefully applied foundation I’d slapped on this morning? Gone. Completely obliterated by Lily’s enthusiastic licks.
“Damn it,” I shriek, shooting a helpless glance at Grace, my eyes flicking toward the purse in her hands.
“Yeah, of course I have it.” She rolls her eyes. “That’s why you are supposed to use concealer.”
“Noted,” I murmur, though I’m not sure that would have helped either.
Grace pulls out miniature bottles and starts working her magic with a brush.
“I heard Mason Grant was at the ball last night,” Grace murmurs.
I bite my lip. How does she know?
“Of course, he is stupid hot,” she adds. “I’m guessing Dan doesn’t approve.”
“Dan punched him,” I reply, just to see her reaction. Her hand freezes with a slow jaw drop. Okay, so I’m not crazy. She agrees that’s out of sorts.
Dan has always been the golden boy. Since we were teenagers, I was used to girls being nice to me just to get close to him.
Or boys afraid to come near me, scared they won’t get picked for the team or invited to the next popular gig.
Dan is four years older than me, so he’s always been protective.
But punching? That’s just not his style.
“Well, Nick will be happy to hear that,” Grace scoffs.
“Why would Nick care?”
“Apparently, they got drunk and Hugo challenged Nick to an arm wrestle, then….”
Grace draws her phone and brings up an Instagram post photo of Nick with his hand in a cast. The caption reads: ‘Fuck you, Mason Grant.’
“He broke his arm?” I squeal, trying to zoom in to see if this is a joke.
“Just his wrist.” Grace shrugs. “He’ll be fine.”
But I’m still staring at the photo, frozen. “I can’t believe he did that,” I mumble.
“One, who cares? Nick is a dick.” Grace chuckles. “Two, you do know Mason is known for more than just broken wrists, right?”
I exhale and hand her phone back to her. “Yep. Dan gave me the lecture. Don’t need to hear it again.”
“Dan can hardly claim the moral high ground anymore.”
“Good point,” I murmur as she pats my skin and meets my gaze in the mirror. The marks on my neck blended into a second skin.
By the time we finally made it to lunch, Grandpa had joined us, too.
A long table with pretentious cuisine already laid out.
Silver trays, tiny garnishes, and my favorite Thai dishes bang in the middle with a tall pile of pastries.
Carefully placed by my godmother, of course.
She positioned them within arm’s reach, just so she can grill me the entire meal.
I brace myself for the interrogation and stick to non-alcoholic beverages.
Valerie is going to fish for every micro-detail.
I knew this was coming the minute I saw Jonathan in the helicopter.
Oh well, this little family reunion seemed too good to be true anyway.
Oblivious to the third degree on this end of the table, Dan, Grandpa, and Jonathan start discussing Dan’s upcoming business trip to the States and recent private jet upgrades.
I stick to one-word answers and nods through lunch. Grateful when the servers approach to clear the dishes. Then Jonathan clinks his glass and raises his champagne flute.
“To Richard and Lizzie, always with us.”
Dan and I trade an awkward glance, and clink our glasses in a polite chime. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Valerie’s hand quivering, bubbles trembling in the glass.
“And to Dan,” Grace jumps in quickly, steering Valerie’s attention away.
“And his meteoric rise,” Jonathan adds with a grin.
“As long as he keeps paying for these meals.” Valerie flashes a small smile, composing herself. “The fish was exquisite.”
“I’ll tell the chef to pack some for you.” Dan smiles.
“How about you pack the chef up for me?” Valerie winks.
“Okay, that’s quite enough champagne for you, Mum.” Grace tries to steal her glass, but Valerie holds on to it with both hands, laughing hysterically. I remove the rest of the bottles while they fight it out.
Then Valerie claps her hands and orders us all to the railings just as Tower Bridge begins to open in the background. Like we’re six again. But who would dare argue with her?
Dan trails after us, dragging his feet. Only to change his mind halfway, when his phone rings. For the fifth time since lunch.
“I have to take this.” He makes an apologetic face.
“You’ll miss the bridge,” Valerie drawls. She’s definitely had too much to drink if she thinks Dan cares about the bridge. No one does.
“Time is money, Val,” Dan replies with a sly grin. “I’ll be right back.”
“Did he just say time is money?” Grace giggles.
I stare after Dan, watching him walk away, but his words seem to stay with me, ringing in my ears, getting heavier and heavier, until they drown me.
“Time is money, Richard. A concept beyond the comprehension of a civil servant,” Grandpa says as we stand in the airport private lounge with our luggage. A ten-year-old me holding on to my mum, next to Dan.
“I understand perfectly, Elton. Time is money. Money is power. Power is control. And we all know how much you love to control the world with your fists. But you don't control me or my family. Not now. Not ever. We’ll see you in the States. Have a great solo ride on your private jet.”
“At least let Daniel and Eva come with me. It’s a long time for a commercial flight.”
“Not a chance. My family stays with me.”
“They are my family, too. They have my name.”
“And we all know how you made that happen. But that’s all they’ll ever have of you.”
“You’re fighting,” I complain as Dad walks back to us.
“Again,” Daniel adds.
“I know,” Dad whispers and ruffles my hair. “Don’t worry, Bean. It’ll be fine.”
My chest tightens as the words in his voice hit me again.
“Don’t worry, Bean. It’ll be fine.” I hear dad’s voice as I lie upside down, suspended by the seatbelt, the weight of my body crushing my head, red trailing up my nose. My eyes flicker, bloodstained petals of metal and shattered glass zooming in and out of focus under the blinking headlights.
“Close your eyes.” Dad’s hand grips mine. Then—
“Bean!” Dan’s voice cuts through my trance as his face snaps into focus, just a heartbeat before the floor rips out from under me.
One second, I’m holding on to the railing.
The next, I’m falling.