Page 40 of Fool Me Twice

“Can I help you?” Evie asked in an equally bored tone.

“Ask that tramp where my husband is.”

The driver cleared his throat. “Mrs Bourday-Cook would like to know where her—“

“I heard,” Evie replied in a cold monotone.

Silence filled the air as each waited for the other to make their move, like some kind of gunslinger’s fight of yesteryear.

“Well?” Shari was the first to break the silence.

“Mrs Bourday-Cook has asked, ‘Well?’”

“Tell Mrs Bourday-Cook that if she wants to find out where Peter is, then she needs to get her arse out of the car and ask me herself.”

The driver turned to Shari. “The lady said—“

“I heard what she said,” Shari spat, gesturing for the driver to open the car door. “And that...” She climbed out of the car. The expensive-looking bracelets adorning her bony wrist clanked together as she wagged a long bony finger at Evie. “...is no lady.”

Shari did nothing to hide her blatant scrutiny of Evie, running her eyes slowly over her yoga pants and vest. The contemptuous curl of her lip betrayed her disdain for Evie’s home and everything she’d worked for.

Evie’s hands fisted at her sides. She had so many reasons to hate this woman. Shari was the person who’d threatened to take her baby from her all those years ago. It was Shari who’d called Jaxon a liar and threatened him with all sorts of legal action when he’d first contacted Peter. And it was Shari who’d done everything she could to keep Jaxon and his father apart. But she’d learnt over the years that the best way to piss Shari off was not to let her know she’d got under your skin.

“Where’s my husband?“ she demanded, flicking her long dark hair off her shoulder with her hand.

“He’s not here.”

Shari folded her arms, drumming her blood-red talons against her haute couture covered limbs. “I know he’s here.” She rolled her eyes. “Now run along and tell him I’m waiting.”

Run along? Seriously? Who the hell did she think she was? And who did she think she was talking to? Evie swallowed hard and tried to control her breathing.

“I said he’s not here,” she repeated the words slowly.

“I don’t believe you.”

Evie spread her arms wide. “I don’t care.”

Bullseye. Evie smirked when she saw the look on Shari’s face.

“Where’s he gone?”

“I don’t know,” she lied.

“When will he be back?”

Evie shook her head. “I don’t know that either.”

“You don’t know much, do you?”

“No,” she said. “Sorry.” Not sorry.

Shari spun on her six-inch spiked Louboutins and stomped back toward the car. “Have him call me as soon as he gets back,” she called through the open window as the car drove off.

Evie wondered if she should have curtseyed or made a deferential “yes, milady”. “Stuck up cow,” she muttered under her breath as she returned to the house, replaying the scene over and over in her head, swapping and changing the lines to what she should have said, or would like to have said.

“Who the hell was that?” Reeva asked, her eyes wide.

“Peter’s wife.”

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