Chapter 4 4

Arthur practically ran down the steps. His dignity was gone, replaced by a fawning desperation that made Eva want to look away.

Mr. Noel! Arthur said, extending a hand. What an honor. An absolute honor.

Baxter stopped. He looked at Arthur's hand for a second too long before giving it a brief, firm shake. He didn't smile. His eyes were like chips of flint.

Mcclain, Baxter said. His voice was a low baritone that seemed to vibrate in the floorboards. I was in the area. Jimmy mentioned the engagement.

Of course, of course! Arthur beamed. He gestured wildly behind him. You know the family.

Isobel stepped forward. She had composed herself, pushing her chest out, putting on her best socialite smile. Baxter, she purred. It is so good to see you again.

Baxter glanced at her. He didn't blink. Have we met?

Isobel's smile faltered. At the... the fundraiser? Last month?

Baxter looked away, dismissing her entirely. He scanned the room. He looked bored. He looked dangerous.

Eva stood in the shadow of the staircase. She didn't move. She held her breath.

Arthur cleared his throat. And, uh, my other daughter...

He turned to gesture at Eva.

Eva stepped out of the shadow.

Baxter's gaze landed on her.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened. He looked at her face. He looked at the black slip dress. He looked at her bare shoulders.

There was no recognition in his eyes. No spark of memory.

But there was something else. A flicker of interest. The kind of interest a wolf shows when it spots movement in the brush. A sense of déjà vu that he couldn't quite place, nagging at the edge of his perception.

Eva felt her heart hammering against her ribs.

Arthur was sweating. Is... is your wife not with you tonight? he asked, his voice trembling with the weight of the gamble.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

Baxter turned his head slowly to look at Arthur.

My wife? he repeated. The word sounded foreign in his mouth.

Arthur paled. Uh, yes. Eva said...

Baxter laughed. It was a short, sharp sound. "I am not currently traveling with a wife, Mcclain. And certainly not one you've met."

The air left the room.

Isobel let out a gasp of triumph. Dianne closed her eyes. Arthur looked like he was having a stroke.

Baxter turned back to Eva. He took a step toward her.

He didn't know who she was. He thought she was just another Mcclain daughter trying to climb the ladder, or perhaps a scam artist trying to leverage a rumor.

Eva didn't wait for the explosion. She turned and walked toward the French doors leading to the terrace. She needed air. She needed to escape before Arthur killed her.

She pushed the doors open and stepped out into the cold night. She walked to the far end of the stone balcony, leaning against the balustrade, gasping for breath.

The door opened behind her.

She smelled him before she saw him. Cedar. Expensive tobacco. And the crisp scent of winter air clinging to wool.

She turned.

Baxter was standing there. He had followed her.

He took a silver case from his pocket and tapped out a cigarette. He didn't light it. He just rolled it between his fingers.

Nice try inside, he said. He wasn't looking at her. He was looking at the dark lawn.

Eva wrapped her arms around herself. I wasn't trying anything.

He turned his head. His eyes locked onto hers. You are the sister, right? The one they keep in the attic?

Something like that.

He took a step closer. He was too big for the space. His presence was overwhelming.

Your father seems to think we are related, Baxter said softly. He leaned in, invading her personal space. Why would he think that?

Eva looked up at him. She saw the hard line of his jaw. The scar near his temple that the magazines usually photoshopped out.

Because we are, she said.

She reached into her dress. It was a risky move. His eyes tracked her hand, his body tensing like he expected a weapon.

She pulled out the paper. She unfolded it and held it up.

The moonlight hit the page.

Baxter looked at it. He didn't take it at first. He just read.

His expression didn't change. Not a muscle twitched.

Then, he looked at her. Really looked at her.

How much? he asked.

Eva blinked. What?

How much do you want? Baxter asked. His voice was bored again. For the forgery. It is good work. The seal looks authentic. So, how much to make it go away? Ten thousand? Twenty?

Eva felt like he had slapped her.

It is real, she said.

Baxter chuckled darkly. He moved so fast she didn't see it coming. He pinned her against the stone railing. He wasn't hurting her, but he was caging her in with his arms.

Listen to me, he whispered. His face was inches from hers. I don't get blackout drunk. I don't make mistakes. And I definitely don't marry women who look like...

He trailed off. His eyes dropped to her lips, then back up.

Like what? Eva challenged.

Like trouble, he finished.