Evangeline stops to study it for a long time.
I sidle up behind her and wrap my arms around her middle. It feels right to touch her, to hold her. I want her to be a part of this world. I want the next portraits I hang up to be of us at our wedding, of our children’s birthday parties. I want us to continue pushing each other, challenging each other, growing together.
“What are you thinking?” I ask, nuzzling her ear.
She shakes her head distractedly. “How I don’t even know who my dad is.”
“You get it now, then?”
Turning, her eyes meet mine. “Get what?”
“Why I can’t let you into the Club.” I gesture to the portraits. “This is what I come from, and the other members have legacies no less important.”
Her face turns steely. “And I don’t.”
“Well…no.” Suddenly, it feels like everything that was so solidly in my grasp just moments ago is slipping through my fingers. It’s like trying to hold onto a fistful of water.
She breaks away from me and starts toward the laundry room. I follow her, watching as she opens the dryer and pulls out her pants. She strips out of my boxers, and I don’t even have time to savor the view before she’s sliding her leg into her jeans.
“How do you think your grandfather, or your great grandfather, or your great-great grandfather got started?” she asks, whipping my t-shirt off and dropping it into the basket on the floor. “Someone, at some point, had to look at them and say, ‘yes.’”
“That’s just the point,” I say. “They never had to ask. They made the rules.”
She pauses, her beautiful breasts heaving at me. I want desperately to go to her, take her in my arms, reclaim that bliss I felt just moments ago. There are two t-shirts clutched in her hands. She looks between them and then tosses one at me. It hits me in the chest, and I catch it as she pulls the other one over her head.
“Well,” she says when she’s fully dressed. “I’m here to break the rules.”
Evangeline pushes past me.
I follow her and watch as she gathers her purse and her shoes. “Don’t leave.”
“Why not?” she asks, pausing by the elevator.
“I can keep you safe,” I say, thinking of Dom and all the men out there who would take advantage of her.
“Safe from what? Other men like you?” The elevator dings, announcing its arrival.
“Don’t walk out on me,” I try again, even though I know ordering her around has never gotten me anywhere.
She steps onto the elevator and turns, meeting my eyes. “I’m not walking out on you. This has nothing to do with you at all.”
The doors slide closed between us with unexpected finality.
♦ ♦ ♦
Evangeline is avoiding me. I really fucked up last night. I should have gone after her, should have explained myself, but I’m not used to having to do either of those things. Maybe for her, I need to be the one breaking the rules.
What I wanted her to understand was that for the Oakwood Boys, traditions and obligations run deep. It’s not as simple as crossing out a rule in the rulebook and handing her a membership card. Turgenev Holdings might own the Oakwood Club, but it owns me just as much. I wanted to tell her that in spite of that, we could find ways around it. I would use my name to get her anything she wants. But I see now that she won’t be happy riding on my coattails.
At lunch, I send flowers to her office. A few hours later, I receive notification that the delivery was rejected. When I try to call her office, her PA gives me some bullshit excuse about her being in a meeting.
“When will she be out?”
Without missing a beat, the woman on the other line says, “Hard to say. Maybe next year?”
That next day, I go to the Club in an effort to get my mind off of Evangeline, but it doesn’t work. All the women pale in comparison, and I just end up in the lounge with Andrej, who seems to be even sulkier than usual, which is fine with me. Misery loves company, after all.
I’m sipping on a glass of Yamazaki Single Malt, a Cuban cigar burning in one hand, when Andrej looks over at me suddenly as if just remembering something.
“I had an interesting conversation with Dom today.”
That gets my attention. “Dom Royal?”
He nods. “We were discussing another project when he started asking me about Rutherford.”
“About Evangeline?” I cannot seem to escape her, even when I want to.
“He was very curious about your relationship with her.” Andrej rolls the ash of his cigar and then rests it on the tray. “I told him there was no relationship.”
“You did what?” I sit up straight now, my cigar and drink forgotten.
He seems to sense the change in the air because he eyes me warily as he continues. “I told him she came in here trying to get in on the City Center project, but that we were quick to put her in her place.”
It’s almost laughable, the idea of Evangeline letting anyone put her in her place. But then, nothing about this is funny. Dom’s words ring in my head: Let me find out you’re lying, and she and her business are fair game.
Andrej finishes the last of his drink and adds, “I don’t know what he has planned for her, but it seemed best to stay out of it.”
But I can’t, not when it comes to Evangeline. “I have to go,” I tell him, standing and grabbing my suit jacket off the back of the chair.
I try calling her cell phone, but she doesn’t answer. When I try her at her office again, her assistant tells me she’s out.
“It’s an emergency,” I tell her. “She could be in danger.”
Her assistant makes a low humming noise, humoring me. “I’ll be sure to give her the message.”
I’m already in my car but I don’t know where to go. Then it hits me. There’s one person who might be able to help me. She might kill me in the process, but she’s more likely than all the rest to take me seriously.
Chapter Nine
Evangeline
“It’s really shaping up.” I turn to Dawson Hubbard, the contractor building our newest Evan’s Wholesale location. It’s the first store of its kind in West Valley.
He looks down at his yellow pad and scribbles something, then says, “Just the punch list left, and we’ll be able to start moving in the shelving in the next week or so.”
My heart swells. We’re ahead of schedule, which means we can start conducting interviews soon. This store will give hundreds of jobs to people in my old neighborhood and give them an affordable place to shop for larger families.
“Want me to lock up?” Dawson asks as he tosses his notepad into his work truck.
I shake my head. “I’ll do it. I want to take one more look around.”
He nods. “Well, be careful. This isn’t the best neighborhood. I can wait for you if you like.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I tell him. “This is my home.”
As he pulls away and the rumble of his truck’s engine fades, I stand in the doorway and survey the empty store. Just like every time we open a new location, I feel amazed by the fact that I’ve created this. I can’t visit every store since the company has spread nationwide, but I try to see all of the local ones that I can. It’s good to see the proof of the good work we’re doing, not just here, but across the country.