Page 5 of Until She's Mine
I catch her, my hands firm on her waist as she steadies herself. Evelyn’s breath hitches, and her eyes lock onto mine. A dozen different emotions flicker across her face, but I catch the ones that matter: surprise, confusion, and desire. She quickly steps back, smoothing her dress with trembling hands, her cheeks flushed.
But now I know that my years of waiting haven’t been in vain. There is a spark in her eyes, buried beneath propriety and loyaltyto a man who doesn’t deserve her. It’s faint, but it’s real. And I will fan it into a flame.
She’s ready.
“Are you alright?” I ask, my voice low and calm, though my pulse races.
“Yes.” Her gaze darts away. “Just clumsy.”
“I’ve never known you to be anything but graceful.”
Her blush deepens. I want to reach out and trace the line of her jaw, to feel the warmth of her skin beneath my fingertips. But I don’t.
Not yet.
The game requires patience, and I’ve waited this long. A few more weeks won’t kill me.
“Are you going to your parents’ dinner party tomorrow?” Her voice is steadier now, though her fingers fidget with the edge of her glove.
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
Evelyn despises those biweekly dinners. She’s told me as much in the quiet moments we’ve stolen over the years, though never in so many words. Her shoulders stiffen when Tobias brings them up, and her smile falters when she’s forced to make small talk with our parents. But she’ll be there tomorrow, of course. She always is. Duty, after all, is a chain she wears as gracefully as her silk gowns.
“Good.” Her expression is layered with relief, and something deeper that I allow myself to hope is longing until Tobias appears at her side again, with a drink in hand.
His arrival shatters our fragile bubble. She takes Tobias’ arm without as much as a word, but not before I catch the guilty flicker of her eyes back to mine.
“I’ll steal my lovely fiancée back now,” Tobias says with that insufferable grin, the one that makes me want to shatter his perfect teeth. “You don’t mind, do you, brother?”
Evelyn murmurs something to Tobias, but I don’t catch it. All I see is the way her hand trembles on his arm and how her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.
Tobias leads her away like she’s just another acquisition, oblivious to her glove slipping from her hand and falling to the floor between us. Evelyn tries to bend to retrieve it, but my brother tugs her forward, too absorbed in his own chatter to notice.
I wait until they’re out of sight before retrieving it with a reverence that borders on sacrilege—the scent of lavender clinging to silk—and let the faintest trace of my smile linger as I tuck her glove into my pocket.
Now, I have the painting to buy.
Chapter 3
Evelyn
The 15th-century Madonna’s cracked smile taunts me under the microscope’s glare. Two hours of painstaking work, and I’ve only stabilized a quarter-inch section of the cracked varnish.
I step back from the restoration table, wiping my hands on my apron. The scent of solvents and ancient wood lingers in the air, familiar and grounding.
“Evelyn?”
I jerk back as Marcus, my supervisor and good friend, appears in the lab doorway holding two coffees. “You missed lunch.”
I blink at the clock. It’s already 2:40 p.m.
“I didn’t realize,” I murmur, exiting the controlled environment of the restoration lab to join Marcus in the adjoining break room. The smell of freshly brewed coffee replaces the sharp tang of chemicals.
“Tell me you’ve eaten today.”
“I did.”
“That expired yogurt in the breakroom fridge doesn’t count.” He sets the coffee down and slides a paper bag across the table. Inside, a fresh croissant and a small container of mixed berries wait for me. Marcus has always been thoughtful in ways that make me feel guilty for not appreciating him more. “You’ve been hunched over that Madonna since seven in the morning. Everything okay?”
