I rub my arms, suddenly cold. My gut won’t let it go. Every instinct screams there’s more. Something ugly. Something I don’t want to find, yet I can’t stop chasing.
Yes, I can—watch me.
I shove the report back in the box and close the lid. My hands shake.
Nothing there,I tell myself. Just a fall. Just an accident. And I’m not going down this rabbit hole.
I’m not endangering Millie’s future.
28
ALEX
Same concrete walls. Same furniture. Same smell of leather wax spicing the recycled air. Same hush making time feel slower than it is.
I’m settled into an armchair deep in the MESS building, waiting for Von Dietz and doing my best not to stare at Eva.
The déjà vu is staggering.
She sits across from me, perfect posture, eyes lowered toward the magazine she’s pretending to read. Or maybe she is reading. With Eva, it’s hard to tell.
I force myself to look at my phone. An economic forecast. Numbers always calm me. Not today, though. I scroll without seeing a word. My focus keeps sliding back to the woman across from me.
Too beautiful. Too desirable. Completely off-limits.
The last time we were here was a month ago in late September. It feels like another life. Back then, I thought I was prepared for anything.What a joke!I had no idea the ground could shift so violently under my feet.
I’ve been through shocks before. My parents’ ugly divorce. Father’s death. Breakups. Workplace backstabbing. But nonecompares to this last month that’s been the worst roller coaster of my life.
The hilarious part?Being named Duke of Rohinn and then being stripped of it, matters less than salvaging Fort Vauclairt, bonding with Millie, imagining a new home where Eva shared my bed, and thinking she could be mine.
I tilt the phone higher, hoping it makes me look less obvious. My thumb stills on the screen. I don’t read. I can’t. Every nerve screams with awareness of her. The way her hand moves to turn a page… The elegance with which she lifts her coffee cup… The smooth line of her throat as she swallows…
Stop it, Alex.
I will myself to focus on why I’m here. A week after the discovery of the tunnels, Von Dietz summoned Eva and me to his lair for an update about the investigation.
That’s why we’re here.
Finally, an assistant ushers us into the bunker-like briefing room. I step behind Eva, trying not to stare at the sway of her skirt.
Von Dietz stands at the end of the table, uncharacteristically uneasy.
He inclines his head to Eva. “Your Grace.”
He hesitates before saying, “Monsieur Castellane.”
Ah, there it is, the source of his discomfort.
Last time he addressed me as Lord Castellane as a compromise between a mere mister and “Your Grace.” But with Judge Sarazzin’s verdict out,lordis no longer an option. The man is a stickler for protocol—a reliable shield against social awkwardness, I’ll grant him that. Except, titles aren’t meant to shift back and forth within weeks.
He pulls out a chair for Eva. We sit. She smooths her skirt and rests her hands on the table.
Von Dietz opens a folder. “Everything you’re about to hear is strictly confidential.”
“Of course,” Eva says.
I nod.
