Page 5 of Villainous Soul

Her eyes shifted from the screen to me, then back to the screen. “Um, he’s my brother. He’ll be worried about me. He’s rather protective.”

“Five calls. That seems a bit excessive.”

She straightened her shoulders. “He tracks my fights. He’ll have realized we’re not headed to Mexico.”

Bloody hell.

I shook my head. “Why?”

“I told you he’s protective.”

I looked her up and down. Was she even worth the trouble? Because that is what she was going to be. Trouble with a capital T. I spent the past year grooming Margot to be the perfect socialite. She was everything high society expected her to be, from her perfect body to the clothes she wore to her impeccable decorum. At least, that’s what I thought. This girl looked like she had just rolled out of bed. It wasn’t that she wasn’t beautiful. She was actually quite striking with her high cheekbones, full lips, and dark green eyes. She just didn’t seem polished or refined.

Her phone buzzed again. The last thing I needed was her face plastered all over the American news channels because of a worried brother.

“Find out what you can about Patrick Young,” I told Alan. I put the phone down on the table. “Not a word about what is happening, or you’ll never work as a flight attendant again,” I warned, pressing the accept button.

“What’s going on, Eve,” her brother’s voice said over the speaker.

“Um, nothing. I’m just working. It’s busy, so I can’t really talk.”

“I thought you were going to Cabo?”

“Things changed.” Her bottom lip began to quiver.

“What do you mean things changed?” he said. “Where are you? I only agreed to let you take this job as long as I knew where you would be.”

“Patrick-”

I took the call off speaker, not trusting she wouldn’t say something. “Mr. Young, my name is Keir Wilson, and I apologize for any confusion.”

“Who the hell are you? And where’s Evie?”

“As I said, my name is Keir Wilson of Wilson International Commerce. Evie is working a private flight for me, and there was a change in the location, which she was unaware of.”

“Keir Wilson, as in the owner of the Aston Martin Formula One Team?”

“One of my many endeavors.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” her brother said.

“I don’t know about that,” I laughed. “Do you follow the race?”

“Yes.”

I had my hook.

Fucking wanker.

“Then I’ll have to get you an all-access pass for a race of your choice. You can sit in the pit with the team. Consider it a thank you for your sister’s service.”

“That’s too much,” Patrick said.

“It’s my pleasure. Your sister was kind enough to fill in for a sick friend.”

“Thank you. Can I speak to her? I just want to find out where you’re headed and ensure she gets there safely.”

“Unfortunately, she is unavailable at the moment, but I can promise I will have her back on Monday. As for our destination, I hope you understand my need to be cautious. Keeping the team’s location private until the next race is imperative.”

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