Hiding behind the row of bleachers, I watch Eva move on the court in awe. She’s an athlete through and through.
I almost feel bad for what we have planned. But you can’t be a lamb amid vipers. There’s no way I believe Eva is innocent. She may not be involved with what her father’s company did to mine, but she’s no angel, of that I am sure. She may appear clean on paper, but no one walks through fire without getting scorched.
Eva Pierce has skeletons in her closet, and I’ll expose them one at a time.
A whistle blows, pulling me from my thoughts.
“That’s not how we block,” the coach screams. “Now, rerun it. And if you don’t move those feet, you’ll all be doing suicides until it’s your thirteenth reason.”
Oof, she’s brutal.
“Mine,” one of the girls calls out, making everyone back away and get into position. She overshoots the pass, and Jade slides right, bumping the ball to an outside hitter who nails just inside the line.
Our volleyball team is lethal. I feel bad for whoever they face.
I’m observing drills, but mostly watching Eva when my phone buzzes—my alarm alerting me that I’m late to practice.
“Shit,” I mutter, taking one last look at the girl I plan to ruin before exiting the gym and jogging to the soccer field.
“Bradley, you’re late—four laps,” Coach Wheatley orders.
Groaning, I head for the edge of the field and begin to run, inwardly kicking myself for allowing Eva to distract me.
My mind wanders to my business class earlier today. The professor used Pierce Holdings as an example of a company that owns other companies. I had to fight my urge to call his bullshit.
Pierce Holdings is a predator—a giant monopoly that employs sketchy tactics to get ahead, at best. At least, this is what I’ve discerned from my initial search.
I spent much of the last few weeks researching Rhion Pierce. He’s the only son of Carwyn and Catrin Pierce. He runs the company with his sister and four cousins—each in charge of a branch in different parts of the world, with Callum in London.
Needing more information on how Pierce Holding operates, I put out feelers to some contacts. I didn’t have to wait too long before I received a file from an unknown source detailing their latest acquisition.
I’m on lap three when an idea hits so hard that I stop. It’s perfect. Eva Rose will never see me coming. If everything works out, not only will I stay far off my father’s radar, but I’ll also be in the perfect position to earn a management-level internship.
“Move your ass, Bradley, or I’m adding laps,” the assistant coach shouts.
Shaking my head clear, I focus on my last lap, doubling my speed. I’ll postpone my planning until after practice. Then, I’ll figure out how toaccidentallymeet Eva—because what parent doesn’t want their kid to meet an all-around gentleman to date?
14
eva
“We’ll workon different mediums this semester, but you’ll have to pick one type for your final piece,” Professor Arbour explains. This will be a solo assignment and should be a project you work on throughout the course, not during the final week of class. I’ll know the difference. So, if you want to chance your grade point average, go for it.”
I note the course requirements and already decide to use oil pastels and graphite to draw. I love the way it feels to fill a blank canvas.
“We will examine the works of some of the greatest artists throughout history and some rising stars who are changing the scope of art as we know it,” Dr. Arbour professes.
My ears perk up, hoping we’ll discuss people like Njideka Akunyili Crosby, who uses mixed mediums to showcase cultural hybridity, or political artists such as Frida Kahlo and Ai Weiwei.
Art was my chosen major before?—
I halt my mind from finishing that thought. It doesn’t matter what I yearn to do… history is the path I’ve chosen…for Farrah.
The professor’s words cut into my spiraling thoughts, forcing me to refocus on the syllabus as he details what to expect in his class.
“Look at the person across from you,” Dr. Arbour instructs. “This will be the first person you partner with. So, take this time to introduce yourselves.”
Peering across the table, I smile and wave at the curly-haired blond guy with green eyes. “Hi, I’m Eva.”