“Your taste in lovers is appalling,” I tell him.
“My taste is impeccable. They just can’t handle me.” He points at me with his glass. “Whereas you finally find a woman who makes you feel something, and what do you do? Push her away.”
“Don’t.” My voice is low, sharp.
He softens again, shrugging. “I’m only saying. We’re a tragic pair, aren’t we?”
The hours blur into warmth and haze. We talk nonsense, trade jabs, laugh too loud in the hollow of the hall. For a little while, the ache in my heart dulls.
And eventually, when I close my eyes, sleep sneaks up on me.
Morning arrives before we realize it. Light slants through the huge window, stabbing at my eyes. My head throbs dully; Dimi is sprawled across a velvet divan like a felled cat.
The noise of feet outside the doors breaks the silence. A moment later, one of the kitchen staff peeks in. “Ma’am—sir—forgive me, but we’ve just had word from Mira?—”
“Mira?” Dimi says, sitting up. “She’s that gorgeous villager who tears around the forest on a dirt bike, isn’t she? She might be just the antidote to my broken heart.”
“Absolutely not,” I snap at him, and then turn back to the kitchen maid. “What news did Mira bring?”
“Your uncle’s on his way to the castle, ma’am,” she blurts, breathless. “And, well, we thought you’d like to know, seeing as…” She gestures toward Dimi, who groans and clutches his head.
“How ghastly to face my father with a hangover.” He turns beseeching eyes on me. “Eva, I beg you. Hide me. He’ll lecture me for hours about wasted potential. I couldn’t bear it.”
“Coward,” I say, though affection tugs at my mouth.
“Pragmatist,” he corrects.
I glance back to the maid. “Is Mira still here?”
“She is, ma’am.”
“I suppose you’d better beg her for a ride back to the airfield, Dimi,” I sigh. “Tell them I said to loan you one of the helicopters. Or the Vision jet, if you prefer,” I add, as he starts to whine again. Dimi has always hated helicopters. “Your choice. Now off you go—better run fast if you want to catch Mira.”
He stumbles to his feet, pulling on his coat. “Point me to the nearest escape before I’m dragged into some dismal family conference.”
I gesture toward the side wall. “Secret passage,” I remind him. He should have thought of it before I did. He was crazy about them as a child, always looking for new passages that time forgot. He found more than a few, in fact. “Go.Quickly.”
He grins at me then, wolfish again, despite the pallor of his hangover. “See you soon, cuz.”
He slips out through the hidden panel. I press up against the windows and just catch sight of Mira revving her dirt bike by the side gate. Dimi swings onto the back, arms wrapped around her waist, shouting something undoubtedly cheeky as they roar away toward the village, through the forest.
I find my smile lingering. Dimi is exasperating and reckless, but somehow, he’s the only one who’s made me feel even a little bit better since I left Vegas.
Stefan arrives soon after. I hear the car in the courtyard, the slam of heavy doors, the familiar cadence of his footsteps. He enters my study with only a brief knock, his silvered hair immaculate despite the journey.
“Eva.” His eyes, so like my own, take in my appearance as he pauses in the doorway. “You look terrible.”
“It’s been a long few days.” I gesture to the chair across from my desk. “Coffee?”
He accepts the coffee I pour out, settling into the leather with a satisfied sigh. “I was so worried when I heard about the attack. Are you hurt?”
“Nothing serious. A mild concussion.” It was a little more than mild, but I can’t stand being fussed over.
“And Robin? How is she handling the shock?”
I keep my expression neutral, take a sip of strong black coffee before answering. “I have no idea. I discarded her, just like all the previous women.”
Stefan’s concern morphs into surprise, and I know I’ve played the role correctly. Eva Novak doesn’t do emotional attachments. Eva Novak uses people and throws them away when they become inconvenient.
