Chapter 6 6

The dressing room was a chaotic explosion of fabric and hairspray.

Eve stood in her underwear, her arms crossed over her chest. The stylist was trying to force her into a black gown she had chosen-modest, elegant, invisible.

"No," Richard's voice boomed from the doorway.

He walked in, holding a hanger. On it hung a scrap of gold sequins. It was backless, with a plunging neckline that ended dangerously low.

"Wear this," Richard ordered.

"Father, no," Eve said, stepping back. "I'm going as a legal consultant. That dress is... it's for a showgirl."

"Exactly," Richard sneered. "Nobody cares about your brain, Eve. They care about this." He gestured vaguely at her body. "Sell the package."

"I won't."

"Then get out of my house," Richard said calmly. "And I'll stop paying for your mother's care facility by morning."

The threat hit its mark. Eve closed her eyes. She let her arms drop.

"Fine."

The stylist helped her into the dress. It was tight, restricting her breathing. The sequins scratched her skin. When she looked in the mirror, she didn't see a businesswoman. She saw a high-priced commodity.

She reached for a velvet box on the vanity. Inside was a diamond choker, a piece she had bought with her own money. It was modern, architectural, and sharp. She fastened it around her neck. It wasn't just jewelry; it was armor. It sat high and tight, perfectly covering the bruise Delos had left.

She sat down to put on the shoes. Four-inch stilettos.

Her injured foot throbbed in protest. She had put a heavy bandage on the heel, but the pressure was agonizing. Every step was going to be torture.

She stood up, wincing.

Julian was leaning against the doorframe again. He whistled.

"Nice," he said. "Dad knows how to pick them. But the necklace? A little much, don't you think?"

He reached out to touch the diamonds.

Eve slapped his hand away. Hard.

"Don't touch me," she hissed.

"What are you hiding?" Julian's eyes narrowed. "A hickey?"

"It's covering a scar from a childhood accident," Eve lied smoothly. "One you caused, if you recall. Unless you want me to tell that story to the investors, leave it alone."

Julian stared at her for a long moment. Then he shrugged. "Whatever. Just make sure you talk to Carter Sterling. He's our Plan B."

Eve grabbed her clutch. Inside, folded neatly, was the bid. Her weapon.

She walked past Julian, careful not to let her limp show.

At the bottom of the stairs, the front door was open. The night air rushed in.

Eve paused. She looked back at the dark hallway leading to the guest wing. The memory of the heat, the cedar smell, the fear... it washed over her.

She squared her shoulders. She wasn't that scared girl in the dark anymore. Tonight, she was a player.

She walked out to the waiting limousine.