Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The door struck the wall with a crack.

Apparently the standard procedure for catching a cheater was less civilized than I'd expected.

Every head in the room turned.

Julian stood near the sofa with one arm around Selena's waist. She wore a server's black-and-white uniform, her cheeks wet and her body angled against his like she had been designed for that exact pose.

For several seconds, no one spoke.

Then Julian dropped his arm as if Selena had caught fire.

"Evie? What are you doing here?"

It was an impressive question, considering he had invited me onto the yacht.

I looked at Marcus. Step one had been kick the door. I needed step two.

His expression remained serenely unhelpful.

Selena recovered first.

"Mr. Lowell," she said, staring at his hand on my purse strap. "Why are you with Ms. Ashford? And why are you standing so... close?"

Julian followed her gaze. His face hardened.

"Evie, explain yourself."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Why is he touching you?"

"He's holding my bag." I pointed at Julian's arm, which had only just left Selena's waist. "You were holding your assistant. Are you hearing the words coming out of your own mouth?"

Julian glanced at Selena as if he'd forgotten she was there.

"She almost fell. I caught her. That's all."

"Of course. Chivalry. Very noble."

His friends found their courage in a pack.

"Evelyn, you're still Julian's girlfriend. Showing up with another man humiliates him."

"You brought Marcus to make Julian jealous, right? Don't drag this out."

"Apologize to Julian and Selena. If you're sincere, we'll forget this happened."

They spoke with the confidence of men who had never considered that the world might continue without their permission.

For years, Julian had refused to introduce me to this group. He said he was possessive and didn't like other men looking at me.

Now I understood. He hadn't kept me private because I was precious.

He had kept me separate because I was a rehearsal prop, and props weren't invited to the cast party.

I smiled. "Thank you. This is the funniest thing I've heard all year."

They laughed, assuming I'd misunderstood.

One man leaned back in his chair. "You really aren't bright, are you? We told you to apologize."

Another looked me over slowly. "She's only the Ashford heiress because she got lucky at birth. Selena got into Calloway University on merit. Evelyn's family probably bought her way in. Big chest, empty head—"

My palm hit his face.

Marcus's fist landed half a second later.

The man toppled sideways, more shocked than injured.

Marcus and I turned to each other.

"Sorry," I said. "You go ahead."

"No, please. Ladies first."

The man clutched his cheek. "Julian! Look at them. They attacked me together, and now they're flirting in front of you!"

"Enough," Julian snapped.

He held out his hand to me, lowering his voice.

"Evie. Come here."

I looked at his palm. "Am I a golden retriever? You can't whistle and expect me to trot over for a treat."

Selena swayed.

Julian caught her again without thinking. This time, everyone saw it.

"Thank you," she whispered. Then she looked at me with damp, anxious eyes. "Ms. Ashford, please don't misunderstand. My shoes hurt, and I lost my balance."

"I understand," I said. "Bad shoes cause all kinds of suffering. Especially when you insist on wearing someone else's."

Her expression tightened.

Julian stared at me. "When did you become this cruel?"

"Probably around the same time you became delusional. We all develop differently."

Selena turned to Marcus. "Mr. Lowell, did you know your supposed fiancée had such an ugly personality?"

The room waited.

Marcus adjusted his glasses.

"Ms. Mercer, what perfume are you wearing?"

Color rose in Selena's face.

"I—"

"It has a strong note of manufactured innocence. Very memorable."

Her blush vanished.

Marcus looked at me. "I haven't heard Ms. Ashford say anything inaccurate. But everyone seems tense. Should I applaud?"

He did.

Three slow claps echoed through the room.

Julian's jaw flexed. "What exactly are you trying to do, Marcus? Evie is my girlfriend. Are you trying to steal her?"

The warmth left Marcus's eyes.

"What do you think she is, Mr. Whitlock? Property for two men to fight over?"

Julian's face changed.

Marcus continued, "And if we insist on discussing claims, Ms. Ashford and I had a family engagement before you entered the picture. Which one of us interfered with whom?"

"That childhood promise was a joke," Julian said. "No one takes it seriously. Evie accepted my proposal tonight. She's going to be Mrs. Whitlock."

The same men who had insulted me seconds earlier immediately changed their tone.

"We got carried away, Evelyn."

"You're family. Don't take drunk talk seriously."

"Say something, future Mrs. Whitlock."

Their cowardice was almost elegant.

I folded my arms. "A promise between families, a match arranged before birth, fate tying two people together—weren't you all praising that kind of grand destiny a few minutes ago? Why doesn't it count now?"

Marcus answered before anyone else could.

"For the record, I have no objection to the match."

Silence swallowed the room.