Evita splashed cold water on her face. She stared at herself in the mirror. Her pupils were normal sized today. Her skin was pale.
"Get it together," she mouthed.
She dried her face and stepped out of the restroom.
The hallway was narrow, lined with dark wood paneling.
Jedidiah was there.
His wheelchair was positioned horizontally across the corridor, blocking her path.
Evita stopped. She pressed her back against the wall, shrinking away from him.
Jedidiah rolled forward, closing the distance until his knees were inches from her legs. He trapped her between the chair and the wall.
"Cut the act," he said quietly.
Evita shook her head, her eyes wide.
"I know you can speak," he whispered. He reached up. His hand, large and calloused, cupped her cheek. His thumb brushed over her bottom lip.
Evita's breath hitched. The touch was electric. It brought back the memory of the dark room, the heat, the desperation.
"That night," Jedidiah murmured, leaning in. "The woman in my room. She tasted like you."
Evita let the tears come. It was easy. She was terrified. She let a single tear roll down her cheek and onto his thumb.
Jedidiah paused. He looked at the tear. It seemed genuine.
He leaned closer, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He inhaled deeply.
He was looking for the scent. The scent of rain and something clean, almost sterile, like the soap from a convent.
Instead, his nose was filled with the overpowering, powdery smell of roses. Evita had bathed in Eleanora's perfume this morning.
Jedidiah pulled back, wrinkling his nose. "You smell like a funeral home."
Evita let out a shaky breath. She had anticipated this.
Jedidiah looked at her face again. The fear was there, but the fire was missing. The woman in his room had been a fighter. This girl... this girl was a rabbit.
He dropped his hand. Disappointment washed over him.
"Stay away from Julian," he said, his voice rough. "He'll eat you alive. He doesn't collect broken things to fix them. He collects them to put on a shelf."
He spun his chair around and wheeled away, leaving her trembling against the wall.
Evita watched his broad back disappear around the corner. Her expression shifted instantly. The fear vanished, replaced by a cold, hard glare.
You're the one who's going to get eaten, you arrogant prick, she thought.
She returned to the table. Julian was paying the bill.
"Did he say anything?" Julian asked, looking at her red eyes.
Evita looked at him, then touched her own throat, a sign for he warned me, and then pointed at Julian, a sign for about you.
Julian laughed. It was a dark, delighted sound. "Good. That means I'm getting under his skin."
They walked out to the curb. Eleanora was waiting by the limo, looking anxious.
"Evita is coming to stay at Kensington Manor," Julian announced. "For her safety. Until the wedding."
Evita looked up sharply. That wasn't the plan.
"Of course!" Eleanora beamed. "Whatever you say, Julian!"
Evita looked at Julian. He was smiling, but his eyes were cold.
"It's better this way," he whispered to her. "Closer to me. Closer to the truth."
Evita nodded slowly. Going to Kensington Manor was walking into a lion's den. But it also meant she would have access to Julian's private servers. If he was the one who bombed Jedidiah three years ago, the proof would be there.
She got into the car.
