These were her peers, people who had grown up as wealthy as her, with powerful families and trust funds. They had more vacation homes than they could count, and more modes of transportation than they needed.
They didn’t know her at all, and that was fine with Eve.
“Eve!”
She lifted her lips in an approximation of a smile for the older woman bearing down on her. Braces had fixed the worst of her crooked overbite when she was a teen, but she’d never quite shed her self-consciousness over her two front teeth. “Bernice.” She returned the woman’s air kisses. Bernice was her parents’ contemporary, but her skin was as smooth as Eve’s. In another decade or two, Eve would have to make some inquiries as to where Bernice got her Botox from, because her dermatologist was excellent.
The woman’s expensively colored and cut silver hair swung forward. “Everything is lovely. You organized a wonderful gala.”
She started to demur the compliment. Party planning wasn’t really a viable life skill, but—
Be proud of your accomplishments. No one will be proud of them for you.
Livvy’s admonishment had been looping in Eve’s head for months. Eve straightened her shoulders, as if her future sister-in-law had poked her with a prod. “We raised a lot of money.”
Bernice grasped her hand and squeezed it. “Your mother would be so proud of you.”
Eve gave no outward reaction, other than a slight incline of her head. Bernice wasn’t a malicious woman, but Maria Chandler’s death had been a salacious topic for gossip for the decade she’d been gone. Eve had learned as a child not to feed the talk more with displays of emotion. Joy, sadness, hurt, anger. All of those things could be powerful tools in a vindictive person’s hands. Better to hide them all.
Still, it was nice to hear about her laughing, vivacious mother from a woman who had been Maria’s contemporary, so her “Thank you” was sincere.
Bernice fiddled with her pearl necklace. “Is your brother here?”
Aaaand here was the reason she’d stopped Eve. “No, he unfortunately couldn’t make it. He sends his regrets.” The Maria Chandler Foundation and the Chandler Corporation were independent entities, but the future CEO and current president of Chandler’s would normally have been in attendance. However, even if Livvy wasn’t sick, Nicholas wouldn’t have come. Her big brother had sharply limited his public appearances lately. He didn’t like to go many places without his fiancée, and a Kane and a Chandler showing up anywhere caused a minor stir neither Livvy nor Nicholas particularly enjoyed.
For their sakes, Eve hoped everyone got used to seeing the two of them together. It was going to get really tiring if the couple couldn’t so much as get dinner without people marveling over the decade-long family feud finally being put to rest.
Bernice looked disappointed. Normally Eve would stay and smooth things over, but she couldn’t right now. She glanced at her diamond-encrusted watch. Two minutes to midnight. A thrill ran through her. Yes, she was wearing far too many clothes. Her skin tingled. “I’m sorry, Bernice, I have to head out. A previous engagement.”
People in this circle understood previous engagements. The words could mean anything: an assignation, a meeting, another party. The phrase was rarely questioned, and Bernice reacted no differently. “Of course, of course.” They exchanged air kisses again, and then Eve was free.
Well, sort of.
She still had to walk sedately through the crowd, nodding and fake smiling at people. She started walking faster as she neared the exit, no one stopping her. The hallway was empty, and she picked up speed, jogging by the time she reached the hotel’s main doors. She smiled distractedly at the valet and handed him her ticket.
It felt like forever for her car to be brought around, but it was, in reality, probably no more than a few minutes. She slid into the Audi and headed off, wincing when her tires squealed. She did love to drive fast, but not when anyone was watching.
She didn’t go home, but to the storage unit she’d rented to store her cars. She pulled her sedate sedan into one bay. The 1960s powder-blue convertible next to her was covered, lest its pristine finish be scratched. The Range Rover on the other side of it was her larger car, meant for when she had to ferry friends around.
The five-year-old Camry to her left was a little more out of place.
It was a well-maintained car, but there was nothing remarkable about it. She’d bought it over the Internet, paid cash. The owner had been delighted she’d only given it a cursory inspection and hadn’t quibbled at all over the price. Nor had he looked twice at the oversized hooded coat and sunglasses she’d worn to disguise herself. It had been in the next county over, but the Chandlers were fairly recognizable in most of the Northeast.
Eve unzipped the duffel bag in the back seat. By the light of the overhead fixture, she wrestled off her gown and heels and Spanx, and slid into the ripped jeans, comfortable white shirt she’d stolen from her brother’s closet, and a hoodie. She donned a baseball cap, and then pulled the hood up over it, hiding her face and the elaborate updo she didn’t have time to take apart, pin by pokey pin.
She checked her reflection in the window and tugged the hat lower to hide her face. It was a silly disguise, but it had worked for her so far.
She glanced at her watch with a frown and then rolled her eyes before snapping off the Rolex and tossing it in the bag. Eve bundled her couture gown and shoes into the duffel as well and threw it into the trunk. Then she got into the Camry and backed out.
Her nerve endings felt alive in a way they never had, and she couldn’t tell if it was because of her super-secret-agent-style quick change, her undercover job, or the man she might see soon.
Of course it’s the man.
A Gabe sighting twice in one day? It was like Christmas.
She zoomed through the street, going faster than she’d ever dared in her own car, but still no more than five miles over the speed limit. She wasn’t a complete celebrity, but odds were good any cop who pulled her over would recognize her as the heiress to the Chandler fortune, and that would lead to too many questions. She went to great pains on nights like this to not be Evangeline Chandler.
She zipped from her upper-class neighborhood into the slightly seedier end of town. She had to dodge a few college students and various revelers as she made her way to the alley behind O’Killians. She couldn’t park in front of the bar. It would be too obvious. But she still needed to be in close proximity so she would be the first person who got pinged when Gabe called for a lift.
