Chapter 22
Anais
The heat of Evan’s glare scorches the exposed skin of my back.
Tonight, I chose a floor length, backless, halter neck, sequined black dress. It’s perfect for this occasion. Or so I thought. Because judging by Evan’s reaction, I might be wrong.
“Is it a requirement for you to expose as much skin as humanly possible?” he hisses as we make our way inside the Calloway owned hotel, the venue hosting the Maxwell event. Of course, Evan would choose a place owned by his friend.
Jameson Calloway – one of the so-called American Gods, according to the tabloids – is one of the most enigmatic of all my brother’s inner circle. I don’t know him as well Evan, or Parker, but over the years we’ve crossed paths at many events, enough to form a friendly rapport.
The summer after they graduated college, they spent three months partying in the Hamptons, being normal, twenty-one-year-old men, without the heat of the paparazzi trying to document their every move.
I was barely thirteen, too young to join their parties but old enough that I understood the drunken conversation between Jameson and Evan.
One I knew I wasn’t meant to hear. Jameson spoke of hiring a private investigator, to search for a woman he couldn’t find.
When he broke down, I knew I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping.
Those words weren’t meant to be heard by me.
I slipped away before I learned more, but over the years, I’ve gathered fragments of the story.
Jameson had fallen in love with a scholarship student at their prestigious boarding school. They’d made plans for a life together. And then one day, she just… disappeared.
To the world, Jameson Calloway is the golden, privileged, son of the globe’s largest hotel dynasty.
Handsome. Charming. Rich. But look closely and you’ll see what lurks beneath the surface.
The haunted look in his eyes that even his all-American smile can’t quite conceal.
But I see it. The pain. The hurt. The loss.
Jameson greets Christian, Aria, and Bishop before his emotionless eyes land on me. If he wasn’t my brother’s friend, I might wither under his intense stare. Evan is cold and detached. Jameson is colder.
“Anais, you look lovely.” Jameson greets me, leaning in to kiss both cheeks.
I smile, clearing my throat. “Thank you, Jameson. It’s been a while.”
“Indeed.” His brow lifts. “The Maxwell holiday party.” He reminds me.
“Right. About six months ago,” I breath as he looks me over.
“You’ve certainly grown up.” He muses, slipping his hands into his pockets as his eyes still assess me. I don’t feel it’s in a sexual way, more clinical.
Blushing, I laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Jameson nods, but before he can speak, Evan wedges himself between us. “Sorry to interrupt this little reunion,” he growls. “But we have an event to host.”
His eyes stay fixed on Jameson, his jaw tightening.
Jameson’s indifferent stare flicks to Evan. Something passes between them. I glance between them, my eyes narrowing when one corner of Jameson’s mouth tugs up in a smirk. Evan’s nostrils flare, as he stares him down.
“Of course, Maxwell,” Jameson finally speaks, gesturing toward the corridor. “You know the way. I’ll join you shortly.”
Evan scowls and grabs my elbow, tugging me forward. I stumble in my heels. “I’m not a damn child, Evan.” I snap, yanking my arm out of his hold. “So stop pulling me around like one.” I hiss, smoothing a hand down the front of my dress.
Evan’s gaze sweeps over me, lingering for a second.
A flash of something else passes through them.
Lust maybe? I pause, a thrill running through me.
He blinks. And then it’s gone as if it never happened.
He clears his throat, scowling. “We have twenty minutes before guests arrive,” he mutters.
“You need a tablet and a rundown of the collection.”
Aria steps in, her confused blue eyes flicking between us. “I’ll run through the collection with Anais. You handle the other hostesses and make sure everything is set up.”
Evan stares at her, then with a sigh, he nods curtly. He flicks a glance in my direction, then turns and strides down the corridor, toward a door surrounded by security.
“You okay?” Aria asks, drawing my attention to her. I take her in, the way her red dress fits her like a glove and compliments her olive skin. She’s beautiful, as are all the Maxwell siblings. Good genes will do that.
I smile. “I’m good.”
“Let’s go then. Before my brother has a coronary,” she grins, looking over her shoulder at her father who is still on the phone.
I nod, inhaling a calming breath. Then I follow Aria and Bishop toward the ballroom, with an unsettling feeling I can’t shake.
Midway through the Maxwell summer collection showcase, I’ve secured interest from over a dozen clients looking to purchase several different pieces. They’re deals that could potentially be worth millions. Too bad, I’m not working on commission.
I frown, glancing around at the other hostesses. They’re women I have never met because they work at the store on Fifth Avenue, but I have no doubt they’re only here for the commission. I file that thought away for later. I’ll definitely be asking Evan about that.
Right now, I’m deep in conversation with Prince Fredrik of Holland. I’m trying to sell him on the crown jewel of the collection. A one of a kind, 20-carat Tyrian Purple, D-Flawless diamond necklace, displayed in a shatter proof glass cabinet like the rest of the pieces.
I stare at it dreamily. It’s absolutely stunning, and something I would love hanging from my neck. My parents might be in the one percent of wealthiest people in the world, but there is no way they would purchase this for me. No matter how much I begged.
“This piece belongs on only one neck,” Prince Fredrik murmurs softly, his dark brown gaze intent on mine. “And she is standing right in front of me. Your eyes…” he exhales a breath, shaking his head. “They’re as rare as this diamond. This necklace, it would complement your eyes perfectly.”
My cheeks heat, as I clutch the tablet to my chest. “Flattery will get you everywhere, your Highness.” I bat my lashes, pushing a loose lock of hair behind my ear with my free hand.
He is so suave, dressed to kill and sure of himself.
A real-life Dutch James Bond, as the tabloids called him.
“But I see what you’re doing. And though your words are very kind, I do believe there are many women this piece would be better suited to.
Maybe your girlfriend or… wife?” I raise a brow.
He chuckles. “Neither actually, much to my mother’s annoyance.” His gaze narrows. “But you, Anais. You have a fire I don’t usually find in a woman. I like that. Would you like to join me for a drink later?”
My eyes widen. This conversation escalated quickly. And though Fredrik is attractive, accomplished, and a prince, my heart belongs to someone else – even if that someone has rejected it.
Before I can let him down gently, a large hand wraps around my elbow.
“Please excuse us, Prince Fredrik.” Evan’s voice barely conceals his anger. “I need a word with Anais.”
Without warning, Evan drags me toward the exit and down the corridor, kicks open a door, pulls me inside and slams it shut.
“What the hell, Evan?” I snap, my eyes narrowing in on him.
“What the hell is right,” he growls, pinning me against the wall, caging me in with his arms on either side of my head.
“This isn’t the fucking place to pick up men.
” My breath hitches. He glares down at me.
“What the fuck are you doing, Anais? Showing up, dressed like a slut, flaunting yourself like you’re part of the exhibit. ”
My anger ignites. “Screw you,” I hiss, shoving his chest, but the asshole doesn’t budge.
“In your dreams,” he laughs darkly. My mouth parts, ready to unleash hell on him.
But then he does something that makes me freeze.
Evan leans in, burying his face in my neck.
My brain short circuits as all the air leaves my lungs.
He runs his nose along the sensitive skin, making me shiver.
I go stock still. I don’t think I’m even breathing.
Because what the hell is happening right now?
“Did you wear this dress for me?” he murmurs in my ear.
Swallowing, I shake my head. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
I feel his smile against my skin. “Do you know what I think?” It’s not a question though it is presented as one.
“I think you’re so used to getting what you want, it kills you to not get the one thing you desire.
So you act out, dress like this, hoping to get my attention.
” I inhale sharply at his words, my heart thundering in my chest. “I think, in that delusional head of yours.” He reaches up, tapping my head gently as if to prove a point, “You believe if you push hard enough, I’ll drop down to my knees, beg for you, and declare my undying love,” he continues softly, inhaling and did he just…
sniff me? Evan pulls back, and with his eyes on mine, I see cold indifference staring back at me.
“But here’s the thing, Brat. I don’t beg.
Ever. And I certainly don’t get down on my knees.
” He smirks. “The only people on their knees are the women lucky enough to suck my cock.” I gasp at his crude words, shoving him again, trying to put distance between us.
He steps back, his arms dropping to his sides.
I glare at him, my chest heaving as if I just ran a damn marathon. This hot son of a bitch… I frown at my thoughts. I take that back. Elena is not a bitch, but her son is an asshole, and I stand by that statement.
“Why drag me in here, Evan?” I demand, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Because this isn’t the Anais showcase.” He bites out. “You’re not for sale.”
“Fuck you,” I grate out.
“You’ve made that offer before. I declined,” he drawls obnoxiously.
Jesus Christ. After the elevator incident, I thought maybe Evan had softened toward me. Clearly, I was wrong. Because this version of Evan is even worse.
I turn toward the door, over his attitude. Hand on the handle, I pull it open, but a large hand presses down on it, and it slams shut. He spins me around, and I yelp in shock.
My heart hammers in my chest and I stuck in a breath when his wild eyes scan my face. I swallow down my uncertainty.
“Evan,” I breathe his name like a prayer. “What’re you doing?”
“I don’t know,” he responds, his voice guttural.
His chest rises and falls with his ragged breaths. I glance at his lips just as his eyes drop to mine. Slowly, I run my tongue across my lower lip. His eyes track the movement like prey. My heart flips.
And in this moment, I know I’m not being delusional, not imagining it. I see it clear as day.
Evan wants me. He just doesn’t want to want me.
Frozen to the spot, I wait for his next move. For a long minute, nothing happens. Suddenly, it all becomes clear, and dejection hits me like a ton of bricks. Evan isn’t going to act on this.
Then in the blink of an eye, everything changes. He growls, closing the space between us, and crushes his mouth to mine. My eyes widen, and all the air leaves my lungs. It’s messy, all heat and hunger. Tongue and teeth fight for a dominance I know I won’t win. And truthfully, I don’t want to.
I like his dominant side.
I don’t have time to process anything, because only one thought echoes in my mind.
Holy shit.
Evan Maxwell is kissing me.