Soon enough, she'd remind the girl, wild things could be uprooted with the right blade.
Evelyn’s fingers grazed the stem of an untouched wine glass, her nails clicking against the crystal.
Let them believe they mattered.
Let Gideon pretend his decisions were his own.
Let this girl think she was more than a phase.
More than a temporary disruption.
Her lips curved, cold and precise.
It’ll make the fall that much sweeter.
Let them have their moment.
She would let them play.
The game had only just begun.
And Evelyn Blackwell did not lose.
CHAPTER 30
Foundations
The sidewalks buzzed with Saturday grit—espresso machines steaming, bass lines leaking from open doors, sweet and savory scents colliding in the breeze.
Arden zipped her jacket, wind snatching loose strands of brown hair as a cab blared down the block.
She cast him a sideways look as they fell into step. “Don’t tell me you’re anti-brunch.”
Gideon huffed. “Brunch is just day-drinking with extra steps.”
She laughed, nudging him lightly. “So, that’s a no?”
“I never said no," he said, nudging his hands deeper into his pockets, and giving her a look. “It’s a half-assed excuse. The company makes or breaks it.”
She nudged his arm with her elbow. “I see, so you do like seeing your favorite people in daylight.”
His mouth twitched. “Favorite? That what we’re calling it now?”
She gave a breathy laugh, brushing her hair back as he gently guided her past the crowd. “Penny and Dan beat us here somehow,” she said, sliding the words out casually, before he could get too close to whatever was twisting her chest.
He nodded and shrugged, a flicker of hesitation crossed his expression—quick, unreadable. “Figured we’d meet them. Felt like the right call.”
Her head tilted. “You don’t strike me as a ‘group brunch’ kind of guy, Blackwell.”
“Maybe I’m here to watch Dan try to keep up with Penny for once.”
She smirked. “Reasonable.”
They ducked off the main strip, winding toward a narrow café wedged between two old brick buildings. A few locals lingered outside, half-drunk coffees on sun-warmed tables.
At a table near the edge, Penny was mid-rant, her wild hair catching the light as she gestured with full-theatric flair. Dan sat a chair apart, pointedly not engaging, stirring his drink like a man sentenced to watch interpretive jazz hands before caffeine.
When Penny spotted them, she pulled her sunglasses down. “Well, well, look who decided to show up after all.”
