TWO.

~Eve

I woke up with a blocked nose, a sore throat and an unfamiliar ache all over my body. I had cried myself to sleep last night, I felt numb. After I saw the press release last night, I had good enough reason to shed my tears but they refused to come- I had my fair share of crying when Sinclair didnt show up for dinner as promised- so I let the harsh tingles of the cold accompany through the night.

Getting up from the bed, I took the duvet, wrapped myself in it and headed for the kitchen. It doesn't matter what I saw last night, it doesn't matter that he didn't keep his promise, I still had to make him his daily cup of coffee.

“Fucking insane,” I heard him mutter a few minutes later as he matched down the stairs. He was pissed, I knew, his reputation was being dragged through the mud and he didn't find it settling.

I hurried out of the kitchen the moment he stepped into the living room and handed him his cup of coffee. “I'm sorry I didn't bring this on time, I was feeling a bit uhm-” I sniffled as he took the cup from me. I couldn't see my nose and ears but I was certain they were red. Both from cold and embarrassment.

“It's fine,” He said and took a sip and spat it back into the cup immediately. My eyes widened in surprise and my senses stood in alert. Did I make a bad cup of coffee?

“Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize…”

“Don't,” he sighed and placed the cup on the table. “Don't apologize, Evie. You’ve done nothing wrong.” And there was that nickname again. For the second time in four years, he called me ‘Evie’ just like he did when he loved me.

I tightened the duvet around my body and his brow dropped as he ran me a once over before turning his back to me, he was in turmoil, I could tell.

“You didn't come back for dinner as you promised.” I tried to speak in a low voice and the words came out lower than expected.

“Now is not the right time, Eve.” His chest rose and fell and he took a deep sigh before turning to me. “I had work to do, the company wouldn't run itself, you know?”

“Yeah, sure.” I nodded. My eyes instinctively went to each and every one of the gifts I left in the room, they were twenty-five of them, for the five years we've been together multipled by five. A constant renewal of love, that was how I felt about him.

“You don't believe it, do you?” He took a step back, crossed his arms and held his chin with his thumb as though he was thinking.

“Believe what?”

“That thing Jimmy Willy wrote about me. About me and Clara Evans?”

“Oh,” that has come as a big slap to my face. One minute, I was grieving over the fact that once again, my husband failed to keep his promise and the next minute, he was making the headlines about having a mistress. A mistress whom I thought was long forgotten.

“Come on, Evie, you can't tell me you possibly believe that. I don't have anything with Clara or anybody else and besides, I'd never do that to you.” My eyes lit up with emotions I haven't felt for years. Did Sinclair just put me first? “Yes, Evie. It has always been you, it's me and you against the world, isn't it?”

“It is.” I muttered and cleared my throat. “It is.” I said loudly the second time.

Sinclair closed up the gap between us and I sucked in a sharp breath at the proximity. It felt unfamiliar yet nostalgic.

“Come on, Eve, you are the last person I want doubting me about this. I'd never do that to you and I want you to believe me. I need to make sure you trust me first before I can start working on my public image.”

“I believe you, Sinclair, I totally do. I don't know why Jimmy Willy published that type of a thing about you. What are you doing about your public image? If there's anything you want me to do for you about it, just say the word and I'd do just that.”

“Actually, there is something.”

:>

:>

The olive silk dress I wore clung to my body as I walked into the Declan manor hand-in-hand with Sinclair. The manor has stood for over two centuries and the Declans’ were celebrating the birth of a new life into the family.

“Are you sure Anastasia is not mad? I can go back if she still wants to come.” I said in a whisper as I looked up at Sinclair. He had already RSVPed this event with his assistant, Anastasia.

“Nonsense, Evie. You are my wife and you are automatically my plus one to any event. I shouldn't have thought of coming here with her in the first place. I didn't put you first and I'm sorry about that.”

I nodded. I've been doing that a lot since today, especially since I promised to help Sinclair's reputation. I have been listening to him and whatever he says goes.

He took my hand in his again and we walked up to the host to greet them and to celebrate their newborn. Sinclair and I had decided to put off having a baby till we were ready but we haven't given it much thought since then. I was happy, truly I was. Sinclair was looking at me and talking to me, I was in an event alongside him, my marriage was finally working and that was all that mattered.

“I spy someone who would be just good for my company, make yourself comfortable while I go talk to him. It would just be a minute and I would be right back.” Sinclair said after the hosts excused themselves to go to great other guests. I nodded and I watched him walk away.

I relaxed my shoulders and stood tall, straightening the skirt of my dress with my palms. I had fitted the dress last minute but it looked as though it was custom made for me. I swiped a glass of champagne from a waiter and took a sip. Sinclair must really think of me as a dumb, weak woman but I'd have my heart in my hands and my eyes in my mouth before I will let him cross me again.

I scanned the crowd for the very first name on the list I made up in my head the minute I stepped into the manor. The event was a celebration but was also a form of networking for rich and important people and I knew that the persons I wanted would be right there. And there were but first, I began with the first person.

He was by the bar pouring himself a whiskey on the rocks. With his hair slicked back,his stomach that went before him and with the number of times he has been rushed to the hospital, one would think he would stick strictly to water but, I guess the old man had a die hard habit.

Taking another sip of my champagne, I walked to him, my heels making a click-click sound against the tiled floor.

I clicked my champagne glass against his as I reached him, his brows furrowed as I looked me up and down.

“And you are?”

“Eve Stone. Richard Reynolds, we need to talk.”