Page 28 of Marrying the Enemy

He was here. She heard his voice on the terrace. Ugh.

Expecting he was on the phone, Eve peeked out the door to say, “Hey, Logan—”

He was in the hot tub with Cat on his lap. They jerked apart and Cat leapt to the stairs, emerging naked as she hissed at him, “You said she left. That it was over.”

“I am leaving. Oh, gawd.” Eve hurried into her room and clumsily got her suitcase opened onto the bed, then started throwing things into it.

Logan came in a half minute later, belting a hotel robe around his dripping body. “What are you doing here? I thought you left yesterday.”

“I was stuck on the island overnight.” Thankfully, the first aid attendant had also given her fresh painkillers which were starting to kick in. Not that she was hurt by Logan moving on within hours. She thought it was sitcom-level hilarious, especially given what she’d done last night and with whom.

Their being here gave her no chance to shower and catch her breath, though. She packed willy-nilly while Logan stood in the doorway and Cat hovered behind him.

“I thought Dom ghosted me,” Cat said. “I called his hotel. They said he wasn’t there.”

“Is he even still alive?” Logan joked lamely.

“It was an uncomfortable night, but we’re fine,” Eve said mildly. “Would you call the bellman to carry my luggage? I have a flight booked.”

She didn’t, but ninety minutes later, she was on a chartered flight to Brisbane where she checked into one of the Visconti properties. She spent the rest of the week ambling from her king-sized bed to a pool lounger to pampering treatments in the spa.

She didn’t turn on her phone, not wanting to see whether Dom had reached out, which he hadn’t, she learned, when she was on her way to New York. She very nearly shut the thing off again when she saw the number of texts from her family, all outraged that she’d thrown over Logan and spent a night alone with Dom.

She sent one quick text to Nico, fueled by her anger over the way he had deliberately held her back because he had consulted Logan about her future, not her. It would be a long time before she got over that and forgave him.

As for her parents, she put off responding to their outrage until she was home, only realizing as she arrived at the building on Madison Avenue how embarrassing it was that she still lived with them. They spent most of their time on Martha’s Vineyard now that her father was retired so remaining in her childhood bedroom—which had been redecorated three times since she’d been an actual child—in the penthouse apartment had always seemed practical, not immature. She worked in Manhattan so it was convenient, but it probably contributed to the way her entire family still saw her as a child.

Boy, did they ever, she thought dourly, when she came off the elevator to find her parents waiting for her, tapping feet and already wagging fingers. Nico, was here, too, wearing his most smoldering expression.

“I’m moving out,” she informed them, hoping to take them by surprise, which she did.

“What? When? Why? Where are you going?” her mother responded in breathy panic.

“I don’t know yet. Thank you.” She smiled at the doorman who’d brought up her luggage for her. He sent her a “good luck” look and exited.

“What the hell is going on with you, Eve?” Nico asked.

“Did you get my text?” Six words from an old song had been all she’d needed for her resignation letter. “That’s all I plan to say to you for a while.”

“You’re such a child,” he muttered. He was twelve years older and unbearably arrogant.

“I’m not your child, though. Even if I was, how dare you ask a man I barely know whether I’m going to be too pregnant to work for you? Go to hell, Nico. Go all the way to hell, then go a little bit past it so you’re completely out of my sight.”

“Evelina,” her father said in a dangerous rumble.

“No, Papà. He disrespected me first. This is about my working for him for four years and him not once giving me the challenge or opportunities that Jackson and Christo have had at my age. The only reason he’s doing it is because I’m a woman. That is sexist and wrong.”

“The Offermans are an important connection. You threw his proposal in his face then spent a night with that man?” her father railed. “Nico has a right to be angry. This is a bad look for the entire family.”

“Logan didn’t propose,” she scoffed. “It was a job offer for domestic service. But you’re right, Papà. I’m so very sorry, Nico, that you had to go through the terrifying ordeal of hearing that your sister rejected a man you shook hands with once. She was stranded on a remote trail on an uninhabited island in the Pacific and could have been stuck there for days before someone found her, might even have died, but that’s not important. Refusing to give up her life and uterus because you think she should is the real anguish she’s causing you.”

“This is why I don’t give you more responsibility. You have the temperament of a toddler,” Nico bit out.

“Calm down,” her mother insisted. “Eve, you’re tired. Does your foot hurt? Come sit down.”

Eve didn’t move. She glared at her brother, then her father’s stony expression, then her mother’s pinched mouth.

“You all think I’m being hysterical, don’t you?”

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