Evangeline

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Gabe Loretto isn't going to know what hit him.

The click of my heels on the hardwood floors echoes through the bedroom as I stride toward my vanity. Sitting down, I brush through my hair one last time and mentally rehearse tonight's plan: Kat and I will make a brief appearance at the White Arrow Club, generate enough positive publicity to momentarily overshadow my father's scandal, and then spend the rest of the evening dodging Gabe.

The latter was Kat's idea, our way of showing Gabe that I'm the one in charge here. Sure, I might be stuck with him for the foreseeable future, my freedom a mere illusion at this point, but that doesn't mean I'm going to make it easy for him.

"I still think you should seduce him," Kat says, applying another coat of mascara. Her lashes flutter as she examines her handiwork. "There's no way someone that serious about their job would keep working for someone they hooked up with."

"Except I've sworn off men," I remind her, "and there's no way in hell I'd let that man kiss me."

Gabe seems the type to have a different woman in his bed every night, which is the opposite of what I'm looking for. But maybe that's been my mistake all along. I've always gone for men who pretend to want something serious, only to end up disappointed when it doesn't work out.

"He might be an asshole," Kat says, smirking in the mirror's reflection, "but he's also six-foot-six of pure, bronzed goodness. If you're not gonna kiss him, can I?"

A lash of jealousy fills my stomach at the thought of Kat kissing him.

I push the feeling aside and pick the perfect jewelry from my box. I have to look flawless tonight. The media are looking for any reason to tear my family down, and I can't give them one.

"There's still time to back out," Kat says. "Do you really want to go out when some creepy stalker is still out there, getting off on the thought of catching you alone?"

I focus on fixing the strap of my heel, avoiding her gaze. I have yet to mention the flowers sent to the house, and I'm not going to. I adore Kat, and she's an excellent personal assistant, but sometimes she worries too much. Between her and my mother, I constantly have to put on a brave face to keep them from falling apart on my behalf. 

"That's exactly why I have to go." For as long as I can remember, my life has been controlled by others—the media, my parents, and now, this stalker. While I can't change the first two right now, I refuse to let someone intimidate me into surrendering what little freedom I have left. "If I hide away tonight, my stalker wins."

"Fine, forget about the stalker. I know you, Eva. You're over the drama and have been since your breakup with Kael, so why are you still going along with this? You can't fund your mother's lifestyle forever."

It's not a dig, but it feels like one anyway. Kat has no idea what it's like to have the kind of relationship I have with my parents. She comes from a stable, loving family with successful careers, a far cry from my own upbringing.

My childhood was chaotic, filled with movie sets, financial struggles, and my parents' turbulent relationship. Love felt fragile and lonely. And despite years of resentment toward my mother, I've realized she's my anchor, the one person I trust and love unconditionally. As much as she needs me to keep her relevant, I need her more.

"Look, I love you for caring about me," I say, squeezing her arm, "but I'm fine. In a few months, all of this will be behind us, and we'll be relaxing on a beach somewhere, laughing about how worked up we got over nothing."

It takes a moment, but she finally relaxes. Contrary to the media claiming I don't have one, this is my talent—making others believe I'm fine. As long as I can help it, no one will ever see me vulnerable again.

"Okay, remember the plan," I say, turning in my chair to face Kat. She looks stunning in her strapless baby blue dress, her hair effortlessly piled on top of her head in a bun, skin bronzed and glowing with that laidback, sun-kissed Californian look. I envy her effortless beauty—I've never been able to pull off that vibe. Looking good takes time and money, even if I pretend otherwise to my followers. "We spend an hour or two mingling, wait until Gabe relaxes, and then sneak out the back door."

I'm counting on the fact that when he realizes I'm missing, that smug look will fall right off his face. He'll realize babysitting me isn't as easy as he thought. That he's not the one calling the shots around here. That while I might bend to my mother's will, I will never bend to his.

Kat snaps a few selfies of me for my socials before we head downstairs, where Gabe is already leaning against the front door, looking bored. His eyes meet mine, then flicker to my dress, sending an unexpected flutter through my stomach. I nod politely, trying to maintain a professional demeanor despite how much I despise him.

Ignoring Kat's raised eyebrows, I stride over to Gabe, who straightens and guides us out to the car, his hand resting lightly on my back—not because it's anything other than innocent, but because the warmth of his large palm against my skin stirs an unexpected sense of safety within me.

It's a dangerous thought. Admitting that Gabe makes me feel safe feels like surrendering my freedom, like accepting a life where I'm constantly watched and monitored. If I don't stand up for myself now, I'll lose whatever independence I thought I had.

The car ride to the club is torturous. Kat takes the front seat, flirting with the driver while Gabe and I sit in the back. He's so tall that he practically dominates the space, his long leg pressing firmly against mine. I steal a glance at him, tracing the intricate tattoo winding up his arm, black swirls framing a crumbling colosseum. His knuckles are covered in scars.

I'm in the middle of wondering how he got them when he suddenly leans in, his breath warm against my ear, making my heart jump. "Get a good look, Principessa?"

"As far as I can tell, there's not a lot to look at."

Liar, liar, liar.

The corner of his mouth twitches as his eyes flicker down to my dress, which has ridden up my thighs. I tug it down and turn to the window, watching the palm trees flash by.

The last thing I want tonight is to cozy up to some actor while Gabe lurks in the corner, silently judging me. But this is the cost of having a liability for a father—I'm forever in damage control mode.

I peek out of the tinted window, spotting a line of paparazzi already waiting on the curb, thanks to Lilith's call ahead of time. The plan is for them to capture me walking into the club, confident and in control in the face of my father's latest scandal, hopefully ending all the wild conspiracy theories.

I pull out my compact, ignoring Gabe's eyes on me as I check my reflection one last time. The only silver lining to my father's white-collar crime is that no one in this club will care about it. He's not the first wealthy man to try to dodge taxes, and he won't be the last. The only ones truly upset are the media and his fans, who resent paying their own taxes while people like him get away with evading them. And honestly, I can't blame them.

I'm about to open the door when Gabe's hand wraps around my upper arm, his grip firm but not harsh, holding me in place. "Make sure you stay where I can see you," he says, his voice low and commanding. His touch is gentle, but the message is clear—he doesn't trust me not to bolt. "You don't go anywhere without telling me first. Understood?"

I look back at him innocently. "Understood."

His grip eases. With a final check, he opens my door and immediately switches into protective mode as he pulls me close, coordinating with the club's security to safely escort Kat and me out of the car. I tighten my grip on Kat's hand, fiercely protective of her in public. A pap once shoved her out of the way to get a picture of me, breaking her ankle; I've felt guilty about it ever since.

The flashing white lights blind me momentarily, leaving little black dots in my vision as I struggle to maintain my smile. Back in my pre-college days, I craved this kind of media attention. It fed the inner child in me, the one who longed for the adoration and attention my parents never gave because they were too busy chasing the limelight themselves. Now? It's suffocating.

As if sensing my unease, Gabe's arm tightens protectively around me, easing my nerves. He guides us through the packed club with ease, shielding me from prying eyes. Once we reach the more private section of the lounge, I finally feel a wave of relief wash over me. Kat takes my hand, leading me to the bar, and I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

The first thing that strikes me is how much the White Arrow has changed over the years. The place is even more spacious and filled with D-lists, with two floors and a luxurious balcony lined with sleek marble countertops. Ignoring the excitement around me, I quickly scan the room, searching for my mother's intended target.

Jude Henry, son of a famous movie executive and an up-and-coming actor in his own right. If I can snag a selfie with him, Lilith thinks she can spin some sort of story from it.

With his handsome face nowhere in sight, I settle on approaching two familiar faces from high school and dive into the typical "long time no see!" routine. The hug feels obligatory, but that's how it is in a world where everyone's playing some role. Whether we're actors, models, influencers, or socialites, we're all just acting.

Aria, the former high school bully turned soap opera actress, offers me a sympathetic look, her big blue eyes softening as she places a perfectly manicured hand on my arm. "I heard about your dad, Eva. I'm so sorry. Things must be so hard for you right now."

I smile, but it doesn't reach my eyes. I've been in this game too long to fall for her innocent act. Truth be told, teenage me was just as fake and insincere as they come. "Oh, he's fine," I reply with a casual wave of my freshly-painted nails. "His lawyers have already found a way to get him off. The whole thing has practically blown over already."

Her gaze lingers on me, searching for any sign of weakness, but when I don't crack, she just smiles and grabs my wrist with her perfectly manicured hand. She leads Kat and me upstairs to the VIP section to meet her friends, while Gabe trails a couple of steps behind, positioning himself on the opposite side of the balcony. He leans against the railing, pretending to survey the area below, but I can feel his eyes on me.

For a brief moment, I can't help but admire how ridiculously handsome he is. Easily the best-looking guy in the room, which is saying something considering the crowd of actors and models surrounding us. Dark eyes, a sharp jawline, and shoulders so broad he might as well be Superman. Despite my best efforts to pretend he doesn't exist, he's hard not to notice.

Sighing, I turn my attention to the crowd, and that's when I spot him—Jude Henry, lounging in a booth with his arms casually draped around two stunning models. As our eyes meet, he takes his time surveying me from head to toe, his gaze lingering on my face before slowly trailing down to my neckline. Satisfied with what he sees, he offers a sleazy grin and disentangles himself from the women beside him.

"Evangeline, right?" he says, extending his hand with a practiced, charming smile. "I'm Jude." His handshake is firm, his eyes never leaving mine. I glance back, and my gaze locks with Gabe's, who's watching the exchange with dark, inscrutable eyes. Is that jealousy I see? Or disdain? "I used to love your dad's movies."

"Thanks," I reply, returning his smile. "Nice to meet you, Jude." I look at him coyly, letting my mother's training take over. Your looks are your best weapon. Jude, clearly pleased, gestures to the seat beside him after shrugging off one of the models, and I reluctantly take it.

I can feel Gabe's gaze burning into the back of my head as I make idle small talk. I can't help but wonder what he thinks of me, throwing myself at some guy for the sake of publicity. But then I remind myself—why should I care what he thinks? I shouldn't. I don't.

The next hour is a blur of champagne bottles popping and shot girls swarming our booth, refilling glasses every few seconds. I down one shot after another, hoping it will help me forget how much I don't want to be here, but it doesn't. The more I drink, worse I feel.

I glance across the table at Kat, who seems to effortlessly blend into this world despite growing up on the sidelines of it. She's chatting with a beautiful woman, laughing and playfully touching her arm, and she catches my eye, shooting me a wink. I smirk and finish my drink, placing the empty glass on the table. Kat's charm works on everyone within three feet of her, and tonight is no exception.

Leaning toward Jude, I decide it's time to wrap this up. "Can we take a selfie?"

He grins, resting his hand on my thigh. "You a fan, Evangeline?"

"Maybe." I raise my gaze. "Is that a problem?"

"Not to me."

"Good." I hand my phone to Kat, who's been watching our exchange with mild amusement. "Kat, do you mind?"

She takes my phone and snaps a few shots, making sure to capture my best angle. When she's finished, she hands the phone back, and I politely excuse myself from Jude's grasp, feeling his hand reluctantly slip away.

As I walk past Kat, I lean in and whisper, "Meet me in the bathroom in ten minutes for our grand escape." Then I cross the balcony to where Gabe is and slide into the spot next to him.

He stands close to me, staring down at the beautiful people gyrating on the level below. I try to read his expression, sensing that, deep down, he's disgusted by me and this lifestyle. But despite his unprofessionalism, he's careful about choosing when to let his mask slip.

"You're quite the expert at manipulating men," he says, his voice low and edged with something cutting.

I push down the sudden shame working through me, determined to stay in control. "Too bad it only works on assholes. Hey, maybe I should try it on you."

He angles his face toward me, a muscle ticking in his jaw as his gaze flicks to my lips. "You'd be wasting your time."

Rejection burns through me, hot and stinging. "And no doubt end up unsatisfied anyway," I retort, leaning on the railing.

His eyebrow hitches as he leans closer, his warm breath tickling my skin. "You'd be satisfied, Piccola. Trust me."

My breath hitches. We're in some kind of power struggle; I can feel it. Whoever backs down loses. And I don't like losing. I inch closer, my breath fanning his jaw as I try to steady my nerves. "I guess we'll never know," I say, my heart pounding in my chest. With my cleavage nearly pressed to his chest, I meet his heated gaze. "Lucky for you, one of us is professional."

His eyes darken, and for a moment, I think he might do something very unprofessional. My skin grows hot, my breath catching in my throat as he nears his face to mine. The noise of the club fades into the background, and for a split second, I think I'm going to win this game of chicken.

"Lucky for you," he says, his words like a lashing, "spoiled princesses aren't my type."

It's like a bucket of cold water dumped over me. I pull back, my breath returning as anger replaces the heat in my veins. Gabe Loretto is an asshole through and through.

I'm going to make him suffer for it.

"Everything okay, Eva?"

I jump back like I've been caught doing something scandalous, my heart leaping into my throat. I turn to see Kat standing behind me, her eyebrows nearly touching her hairline. Unable to speak yet, I let Kat link arms with me and steer me away from Gabe, guiding me toward the bathroom.

Once inside, she pulls me into a stall and asks, "Why did it look like you were about to kiss the bodyguard you claimed to hate just a few hours ago?"

"I wasn't," I say, but there's a reason I never got into acting. "Are you ready?"

"Are you ready?" Kat asks. "You look like you need a cold shower."

I bite my lip, replaying Gabe's cutting words about spoiled princesses not being his type. "I'm fine. Let's go."

We move quickly, my heels clicking against the polished floor. Instead of turning right toward the bar where Gabe is waiting, we make a sharp left, slipping through the shadows and out the back door into the cool, dark alley.

Tonight, Gabe Loretto deserves to be punished.