Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“A night in London with Oliver Deubel,” the other woman says. “Drinks, dinner, and an evening in his hotel.”
“If that’s not an invitation to fuck him, I don’t know what is.” The pair cackle like witches over a cage full of chubby kids.
I drop my head, muttering a litany of insults under my breath. But I have to see this for myself. As I edge closer to the table, the PA system squeals, and I wince.
“My lords, ladies, and gentlemen,” Mandy’s voice booms. “And the rest of the riffraff at the back.” The crowd chuckles. “Thank you for taking time from your busy schedules to grace us with your presence. If you could just stick around long enough so we can relieve you of the contents of your wallets, that will make me, and my menagerie, very happy.” More laughter, but I can’t look as I edge my way to the next table, slipping around the statue. “It’s all for a good cause. Northaby’s animal kingdom, of course.” A round of applause. Then, “And I have some very, very exciting news about the safari park’s future coming soon.”
I block it all out. I feel bad enough about my lies of omission, but I suddenly feel more than complicit. Did I try my best, or did I just not do enough? Those poor animals. Will Oliver screw them over too?
“Excuse me,” I whisper, moving against the tide of guests heading away from the makeshift stage. “I just need . . .”
No, not this. Oliver does have an entry in the silent auction.
He is the entry.
A heavy weight drops to my chest, the discomfort somehow appropriate. It reminds me to breathe, at least, because this is too much. What’s real and what isn’t? It’s hard to tell, because each breath is a trial, each thought a memory. A truth. An untruth. Oliver kept telling me he was no good. Did I ever really believe him? Should I believe him now?
“. . . introduce my special guest, our kind patron of the evening, Oliver Deubel.”
Mandy’s voice pulls me back to the moment, to applause and a crowd that suffocates.
“Good evening.”
My stomach turns over at the sound of Oliver’s deep tenor.
“If I could beg your indulgence for a moment. Eve?” His gaze skims the crowd, but I don’t respond. I can’t. “I know she’s in here. I’m sure I saw her tiara sparkling.”
Laughter swirls around me as I become aware once more of the gold and diamonds on my head. A gift so very special, though not because of its value—its dollar cost—or even its provenance. But because I thought he understood me.
“Eve Fairfax, could you make your way to the stage, my darling?”
The crowd starts to shift, one or two people looking in my direction. People he introduced me to earlier, I realize.
So, maybe this is where I get the booby prize. The award for most gullible goes to Evie Fairfax. Maybe this was his endgame all along. One final humiliation before he gets what he wants and puts the whole matter to rest. Only, he doesn’t look like a man up to his neck in nefarious intrigues as his gaze finds mine. And Mandy is looking on with such fondness.
Is this . . . no. He can’t be about to . . .
A realization drops inside me like a bomb.
He’s going to propose.
I want to believe the events of tonight are one jumbled misunderstanding. That maybe he kept Lucy from me out of some misplaced sense of responsibility, that Duggan is an idiot, that the auction entry is someone’s idea of a sick joke. And the way he’s looking at me, I could believe all that and more. But this feels wrong. Too much like another manipulation.
No more lies. No more power games. No more railroading. These were what we agreed.
Part of me wants to heed the warning and run, but the other part is both sickened and stirred as I find myself at the base of the metal steps. As I hear the clink, clack of my heels. Feel eyes burning holes in the back of my fancy dress.
Just like last time.
I don’t fit in here. I never did. I should’ve remembered my mantra. The rich care for nothing but themselves. Yet my leaden feet still cross the stage, and I allow Oliver’s arm to slide around my waist. He presses a kiss to my cheek and whispers a soft greeting I can barely make sense of. His arm tightens as he turns to the audience, their faces obscured by the glittering chandeliers.
“As Mandy says, there’s to be an important announcement concerning Northaby and its animal kingdom. But first I’d like to take this opportunity to . . . well, it’s rather personal, but something I find I want to shout from the rooftops. Short of that, you lot will just have to do.”