Page 30 of Last Chorus

Even aware that he’s baiting me, I still tense. “If you believe that bullshit, you don’t know her at all.”

With an unnerving smile, Clay relaxes back in his seat. “To the contrary, it’s youwho doesn’t know her. Let me let you in on a little secret. Eva thinks and does whatever I tell her to because unlike you, I have her best interests in mind. I know exactly what she needs.”

My molars grind. “Is that right? Let me guess, she needs you dictating her career like you already dictate her personal freedoms. You want to launch her as a solo act. Turn her into another boring, overproduced pop star. I bet you already have the Big Three chomping at the bit to sign her and a dozen brand deals in the pipeline, huh?”

He doesn’t bother faking offense, instead shrugging casually. “What can I say? I have a gift for the big picture, and I’ve had my eye on this particular one for years. Thanks, by the way, for removing yourself from view early on. A little disappointing how long it took herto get her shit together afterward, but it worked out in the end. In fact, you primed her quite well.”

I hate him. I really, really fucking hate him. And he knows it, his smile turning even more smug.

“Realistically, Eva has another four, maybe five years of peak marketability. I plan to use them. Then, of course, there will be residencies and other ventures. Who knows, maybe a Glow reunion album or two. And let’s not forget the two kids raised by nannies and the vacation home in Turks and Caicos.”

Fury and helplessness bleed my thoughts red. My knuckles itch to punch the smarmy look off his face.

I need to end this before I endhim.

“Does she know all you care about is objectifying and commodifying her?”

His eyes glitter with malice. “What she knows is her place, which is doing exactly what I fucking say. And it’s past time you learned your place, Wilder. Let me put this in plain terms: if you come near her again, I’ll gladly destroy your reputation and end your career.”

And… I’m done.

I hit Stop Recording on the phone in my lap, then tuck the device into my pocket and stand.

“Threats from an Eaton, how tediously familiar. Sorry to cut this short—really, I’m enjoying myself—but your five minutes are up.”

I saunter around the table, forcing Clay to either stand or be at eye level with my crotch. He shoves his chair back and rises, then plants his feet and puffs up his chest like he’s a tough guy.

I invade his personal space until I’m close enough to smell his overpriced cologne and hair wax. Close enough for him to be painfully aware of our height difference, how I’m lookingdownat him. Then I let my mask drop, revealing how close I am to letting myself off the leash. That if it weren’t for Eva, his physical health would be in serious fucking jeopardy right now.

When I brush imaginary lint off his shoulder, he flinches.

It makes me smile.

“Speaking of Eatons, howisKendra these days?” I pause, enjoying the vein that begins to pulse in his temple. “Ah, that’s right. You wouldn’t know, would you,big brother? Well, I’m sure you’ll be relieved to hear she’s doing great. She’s happy, and more importantly, she’s safe.”

At the unmistakable ring of honesty in my words, the blood drains from his face. Then rage brings it right back in an unflattering flush.

“You piece of shit,” he spits. “Tell me where she is.”

Grabbing the top of his shoulder, I slowly increase the pressure of my grip as I angle my mouth to his ear. “Iwill never fucking tell you where she is, but I’ll letyouin on a little something. She still has the Eaton box of secrets. So how about this? You never threaten me or tell me what to do again, and I won’t send Eva the recording I made of our fun little conversation… today, at least.”

He jerks, muscles bunching as he tries to break my hold. I just squeeze harder, slapping his hand away when he tries to grab my arm.

“Do we have a deal, Clay?”

“Fine,” he hisses, “but mark my words, you’re going to regret this.”

I chuckle darkly. “That’s just one of the many differences between you and me. I’m not afraid of bad press. And we both know there’s nothing you can throw at me that I can’t return doubled.With receipts.”

Releasing his shoulder, I give it a final pat, hard enough to make him stumble back. I watch dispassionately as he struggles for composure, his nostrils flaring, chest heaving, hands clenching and unclenching. Sadly, this is likely one of the few times in his pampered life that he’s felt powerless.

At the sound of the patio doors opening, I look up and smile at Evangeline. She pauses on the threshold, her eyes narrowing on us. Our server shifts nervously behind her, Clay’s scotch in his hands.

“What’s going on?” she asks, her gaze sliding toClay’s back. He doesn’t turn around, likely because his balls are in his armpits and his face still resembles an eggplant.

My smile softening, I walk toward her. “Just thanking Clay for lunch. I have a flight to catch.”

The closer I get to her, the more her body reacts. I relish the small hitch in her breath, her subtly dilating pupils, and the ribbons of rose that sweep across her cheekbones.

---