Chapter 6 6

Evita sat on the floor of the attic for an hour, listening to the house settle. She traced the outline of the jacket through the lining of the suitcase. She was walking a tightrope over a pit of vipers.

The next morning, chaos erupted.

A maid pounded on the attic door. "Miss Evita! Come quick! It's your mother!"

Evita ran down. An ambulance was in the driveway. Eleanora was being loaded onto a stretcher, clutching her chest, wailing dramatically.

"My heart! The stress! Oh, the stress!"

It was a performance. Evita knew Eleanora's health was perfect, preserved by expensive treatments and a lack of conscience.

Two hours later, Evita stood in a private room at St. Jude's Hospital. Eleanora lay in bed, looking pale thanks to a heavy layer of powder. A dozen reporters were crammed into the hallway, held back by security but close enough to hear.

"Evita," Eleanora sobbed, grabbing Evita's hand. Her grip was iron. "I only have one wish before I die. You must marry Simon. Secure the family's future."

Flashes went off through the open door. It was a public execution. If Evita refused, she was the ungrateful daughter killing her mother.

The door opened. Simon Stone walked in. He was handsome in a slick, oily way. He held a bouquet of red roses that looked like a funeral arrangement.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Peck," Simon said, his voice smooth. He walked up to Evita and wrapped an arm around her waist. His hand slid too low, resting on her hip. "I'll take good care of her."

Evita's stomach roiled. She calculated the angle to break his elbow. It would take less than a second.

"I think there's been a misunderstanding."

The voice cut through the room like a bell.

Everyone turned. Leaning against the doorframe, wearing a white linen suit that seemed to glow under the hospital lights, was Julian Kensington.

The heir to the Kensington empire. The sworn enemy of the Stones.

Julian smiled. It was a dazzling, practiced smile. He walked into the room, ignoring Simon completely.

"Evita is already spoken for," Julian said. He stopped in front of her.

Simon bristled. "What are you talking about, Kensington?"

Julian looked down at Evita. His eyes were blue, intelligent, and full of secrets. "Tell them, darling. Tell them about that little cafe in Switzerland."

Evita froze. Switzerland. The cafe was two blocks from the orphanage. A known dead-drop location. He knew. Or he was bluffing, casting a wide net to see what he caught. How much did he really know?

She stared at him, her mouth slightly open.

"She's shy," Julian said to the room. He reached out and gently pried Simon's hand off Evita's waist. "Evita and I have been engaged privately for months. Since we connected over our mutual love for quiet European towns."

The reporters went wild. Kensington Heir Marries Peck Daughter. It was a better headline than the Stone merger.

Eleanora sat up straight, her heart attack forgotten. "Julian? You... and Evita?"

Her mind raced. The Kensingtons were richer than the Stone cousins. More political influence.

"Yes," Julian said. He took Evita's hand and raised it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles, his eyes never leaving hers. "I'm sorry I'm late, my love."

Evita didn't pull away. She couldn't. He was offering her a lifeline, but she knew it was attached to a hook.

"Well," Eleanora said, her voice trembling with greed. "If... if it's true love..."

Simon threw the roses on the floor. "This is bullshit!" He stormed out, shoving a photographer aside.

Julian guided Evita out of the room, shielding her from the cameras with his body. "Clear the way, please. My fiancée is overwhelmed."

They got into the elevator. The doors slid shut, cutting off the noise.

Julian dropped her hand instantly. His smile vanished.

"You're welcome," he said, staring at the numbers counting down.

Evita backed into the corner. She pulled out her phone and typed: What do you want?

Julian glanced at the screen. He leaned in close, trapping her in the corner. He smelled of expensive cologne and danger.

"I want to annoy Jedidiah Stone," he whispered. "And you, my dear mute, are going to help me do it. Now, let's discuss the terms of our... arrangement."