Page 64 of Her Cruel Empire
“Look, I should probably go,” I say, wanting to avoid any further questions. “Give everyone a hug from me, okay? Tell them I love them.”
“Will do,” Adrian says, soft now. “Love you too, Big Sis.”
I hang up, the screen fading to black in my hand, and hand it back to Eva. “Thank you,” I tell her, wiping away a few happy-sad tears. “That was really kind of you.”
“Please don’t go spreading that around,” she says ironically. She’s been observing me through the whole conversation, watching my face.
“You know, you don’t have to pretend to be untouchable up here,” I tell her with a smile. “It’s just me.”
Eva’s expression flickers, something vulnerable crossing her face before she locks it down again. “That’s the problem,” she says quietly.
What does that mean?
Before I can ask, she’s raised her phone again and snaps an impromptu photo of me. “Hey!” I laugh. But she’s already moving away to the elevator, signaling that our time here is over. As we descend, I steal glances at her profile, trying to decode the tension in her shoulders, the way she won’t quite meet my eyes.
It’s hopeless. Eva Novak is still a complete mystery to me.
The bistro Eva chooses for lunch is perfect—a tiny place with outdoor seating under a canopy of green leaves. Sunlight filters through the branches, dappling our table in shifting patterns of gold and shadow. Eva orders wine. I order coffee and a crepe that comes drizzled with chocolate and dusted with powdered sugar.
I’m relaxed enough now to forget about Leon and the other bodyguards who have filled out the surrounding tables. They’re trying to look casual, but they have some telltale signs—the way they sit facing outward, the slight bulges under their jackets, the way their eyes constantly scan the crowd.
“Do you ever get tired of having all these shadows guarding you?” I ask, gesturing vaguely at our not-so-subtle protection detail.
Eva shrugs, stabbing a fork into her salad. “I don’t think about it at all. They’re part of the scenery.”
“That sounds lonely.”
“Lonely?” She looks genuinely puzzled. “I’m never alone.”
“Being surrounded by people isn’t the same as not being lonely,” I say gently. I put my fork down for the first time and look at her, wondering if I really dare ask the question I’m thinking. Yeah. I dare. “Your cousin, Dimi—you said he’s not really into…” I wave my hand around, vaguely, until she nods.
“The business,” she supplies.
“Yeah. So…don’tyouever think about leaving it behind?”
Eva’s fork pauses halfway to her mouth. For a moment, she looks almost worried, like she’s considering whether to answer honestly or deflect. “Sometimes,” she admits finally. “But I’ve always known that a normal life is not for me.”
“A normal life?” I lean forward, ignoring the way Leon’s attention sharpens at my movement. “Eva, I’m just talking about happiness. Aboutlove. You deserve them as much as anyone.”
Eva’s eyes drop to her salad and she doesn’t reply. And that alone makes me ache with pity for her. She might be a beautiful, powerful, hedonistic billionaire…but she clearly has a huge hole inside her that can’t be filled up, no matter how much she owns.
I might be poor, and I might have to work shitty jobs and choose between having electricity or food some months, but with my siblings, there’s always happiness. There’s always love.
Eva doesn’t seem to have that. And even those she loves the most, like Stefan and Dimi, and even Leon—she still doesn’t trust them enough to really let them in and see the real her.
The thought just about breaks my heart.
When we return to the hotel to rest before dinner—we have exclusive reservations at yet another Michelin-starred restaurant—I gasp at the sight waiting for me. A row of stunning gowns hangs in the suite like a rainbow of silk and velvet and lace. Deep emerald green, midnight blue, champagne gold, ruby red—colors that would make a sunset jealous.
“Eva,” I breathe, running my fingers over the fabrics. “These are gorgeous. But when would I ever wear them?”
“Tonight. Tomorrow. Whenever you want.” She settles into an armchair, watching me with obvious satisfaction. “I thought you might enjoy having choices.”
I pull out a midnight blue number that feels like liquid silk between my fingers. “I’ve never worn anything like this in my life.”
“Try it on.”
I disappear into the bathroom, struggling with the tiny buttons and hidden zippers. When I emerge, Eva’s expression shifts into something hungry and appreciative. The dress fits perfectly, in turns hugging me and flattering me where it should, and flowing like water when I move.
