EVA
NINE MONTHS LATER
“Do you really need me to go to this thing with you?” Esme asked, flopping down on the beanbag in our living room. The thing was ridiculous. It was bigger than I was. Hell, it was bigger than Dylan.
But we loved it. I would never admit it, but I ran and jumped into the beanbag pretty much every day. Landing in apoofwas way too satisfying.
My sister still pouted as she sank deeper into the thing.
“Yes, I do. And you’re going to wear whatever I put you in.”
“Eva.”
“Esme.” I gave her a look.
She groaned. “I think I would rather have bamboo shoved under my nails.”
“Listen.” I sat on the coffee table across from her. It was like looking in a mirror. Though, thanks to filming, my hair was much shorter and blonder than Esme’s now. “Going to this thing and looking fucking fabulous is only going to help you. I know you hate the press attention, but if they think you’re happy and thriving they’ll back off. People always want to read more about drama than happiness.”
“Why do you have to be right when all I want to do is sulk? I know this will help the ‘rumors,’ or whatever the hell Katarina was talking about yesterday.”
Eva smacked my knee. “Iknewyou were listening.” My mother was still trying to set Esme up with packs, and it wasn’t going well. She’d left, but our twin connection told me she’d lingered to hear what our mother and the matchmaker said.
“You did not.”
I rolled my eyes. “I did. And yeah, that bitch was way out of line. The next time I see Mom alone I’m telling her to dump her ass.”
She smirked, and I realized how I was standing. Hands on hips, like I was about to march off and give someone a piece of my mind. “Shut up.”
“I said nothing.”
The front door closed. “Hello? I brought home pizza. Oh, hey, Esme.”
Bourbon and mint flooded the air as Liam appeared behind me. Esme waved, but all we could see was each other. It had been a year since we met, and I still got butterflies and waves of desire whenever we were in the same room.
The pizza boxes hit the coffee table and then I was in his arms. His smile was all I saw before he kissed me. And kissed me, and kissed me, andkissedme. His tongue traced mine, coaxing it into the dance we knew and loved.
“Get a room, please.” Esme’s voice broke through the haze of being in my Alpha’s presence.
I flipped her off and kept kissing him a few more seconds just for the hell of it before I pulled away. “We have to get ready, anyway.”
“Get ready for what?” Jack appeared in the kitchen doorway. Shirtless. Tattoos on full display.
My mouth watered. “Studio party, remember? I’m dragging Esme with me.” But looking at Jack standing there half naked was making me consider skipping the whole thing.
“Though I’m perfectly willing to just go home,” Esme called.
“No, you’re not.” Jack and Liam smirked as she came over, grabbed my arm, and marched me upstairs. It was fine. I was trying to help Esme get out a little more, and also help her combat her negative image in the press. Ever since I bonded my pack, they’d been both ruthless and relentless.
I strode into my bedroom. “Okay, what vibe are we feeling tonight?”
“There are no vibes. I have no vibes. I am not a vibe.”
“Sexy as hell it is,” I said, going into my closet.
This closet needed a good clean out and more organization, but part of me loved the glorious chaos. It felt like being in a movie montage every time I came in here.
There. Perfect. The dress was something I fucking loved, but I couldn’t wear it. It wasn’t ‘wholesome’ enough, according to my publicist. Fuck that. I was now fully working toward cracking the goody-two-shoes image. I was almost thirty, and enough was enough.
