Page 33 of Ruthless Love

Chapter Seventeen

AUSTIN

When Evie’s face remains lit up all along our drive, and brightens even more as we arrive at the incredible mansion overlooking the Pacific Ocean, I know that her happiness lifts me in ways I hadn’t thought possible—and would be foolish to deny.

As much as I hate that fucker’s ring shackled around her finger, I’m getting the impression she hates it more than I do, and for whatever reason, it makes me relax. But more than that, I want her to relax. Let go of whatever pent-up shit she’s holding on to. That girl needs more than a weekend to unwind. Evie needs a friend. A real one who knows the ins and outs of the dark world she doesn’t have a clue about but seems to be considering. The fact that it would seal her fate in a gilded prison sentence for life disturbs me to my core.

She needs me.

The second Margot steps out of the car, Coop’s arm locks around her, and I’m pretty sure I could have him part with nearly all of his worldly goods just to get me and Evie out of his hair. His black card will pose no challenge.

But I can’t look too prepared, so I have Evie head inside and do whatever women like her do before a boat excursion. In the meantime, I unload the luggage and deliver it to various rooms of the house.

Strategically, I take my time, stretching out the number of passes going to and from the cars—keeping annoyingly close to the cozy couple with each and every pass. I’m pretty sure if I wasn’t here, they’d be humping right in the driveway, so I’m positive Coop will fold before I will.

“Hey, Austin,” Coop shouts, though I’m literally a foot from the man.

But how could he know? His eyes and dick are magnetically stuck to the only woman he’s ever brought here ... or around the family, for that matter. And whatever magic hold her unicorn vagina has on the sworn eternal bachelor, keep it coming. Literally. Because Coop’s a hop, skip, and a jump from handing me the title to his jet.

Predictably, he hands me the offer I’ve been patiently waiting for, and with the last of the luggage inside, I shut the trunk to give the man my full and undivided attention.

“I know you’re dying to hit the beach, and I’ll bet Evie would enjoy the sand between her toes.”

To avoid looking too eager, I feign a nervous laugh, using Evie’s diamond as the perfect decoy. “You’re not actually trying to set me up with an engaged woman, right?”

“No.” Coop’s insistence is stern as I knew it would be. Lightly, he continues. “But we only have a couple of days here, and you’re not exactly a homebody. And Evie—”

“And nothing.” Inwardly pleased and outwardly bold, I cross my arms. “If you want me and Evie out of your hair, you’ll have to throw money at the problem.”

I grin as he tightens his hold on Margot. When he utters those three magic words, I know he wants us gone bad.

“Name your price.”

Unyielding, I say unequivocally, “Your black card,” then prevent his pending heart attack by adding, “For the afternoon. That includes a few hours renting a premium sailboat—the only one left in the marina at this hour—shopping, a supremely expensive seafood dinner, and whatever else I can do to squeeze this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for all it’s worth.”

When Coop fishes the card from his wallet and hands it over, I’ve never loved my cousin more.

“You drive a hard bargain,” he says. “But are you sure Evie’s okay with this?”

The slam of the house’s front door assures me that Evie was probably peeing herself with excitement, waiting until the handover happened before making an entrance.

Her denim capris and a loose white T-shirt are playful and sexy at the same time, and watching her bright smile as she skips over does something to me. Makes me want her this happy all the time. Also makes me wonder again what she was ever doing with a scumbag like Antonov.

With some sort of crazy woman trick, she secures her thousand pounds of hair in a bun at the nape of her neck before announcing, “I’m ready.”

“Ready?” With an arched brow of pure skepticism, Margot is obviously on to us. Surprisingly, she’s peeled herself away from Coop.

“I’m finally going to learn to sail,” Evie says, and that beautiful smile beams wider.

I’ve never actually met a woman who wants to sail. Wants to lounge on a yacht? Sure. But rough it with a sail? That’s new, and I feel my smile widening with her enthusiasm.

“Can you believe it?” she says.

“You’ve wanted to go sailing?” Margot asks with genuine surprise.

“Yes! Ever since Alan got a four-week all-expense-paid sailing getaway in Australia, and I got stuck with Granny Duncan, learning how to fucking crochet.” Evie’s scorn evaporates the next second, and her words soften. “I still have that Victorian doily, God rest her soul.”

I seriously have to smother a laugh as I shake my head. Only Evie.

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