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Something tugs at the back of my brain. Something Ididn’t even think about before. Because Huxley isn’t wrong, Eve is a lot like my grandmother, and she wasn’t a doormat.
I was so blinded by my hatred and my need for revenge that it didn’t even occur to me that the Eve I used to know wouldn’t just agree to marry me so quickly.
Yet, in less than a day, she went from proclaiming she’d never marry me to suddenly accepting the arrangement.
Fuck. Why didn’t I see that before now?
With a quick “Thanks” to Huxley, I’m out of the room and on my way to find Eve.
I need answers, but first, I need her.
Chapter 32
Evangeline
Phoenix barrels into the music room, startling me so much I nearly fall off the bench.
My gaze snatches on his bandaged hand right away.
I shoot out of my seat. “What happened?”
I’ve been hiding here since he left, needing the escape only music—and now also Phoenix—can offer me after the news Holden dropped on us, impatiently waiting for his return.
We rush toward each other, diminishing every inch of space between us.
“It’s nothing.” He gathers me the second he’s close enough.
One hand goes into my hair, the other presses against my lower back. He descends on my lips with a desperation that steals my breath.
Together, we move backward until I bump into the cool material of the piano. I get lost in his kiss, unable to ignore how my entire body comes to life under his touch.
Nothing, and no one, can render such an all-consuming fire inside me like this man can. He ignites me.
When we finally come up for air, I gasp and stare at the rapid rise and fall of his chest and what appears to be blood on his shirt.
My hand reaches for him. “Oh my God, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He steps back.
I immediately mourn the loss of his proximity.
But then he holds out his uninjured hand toward me. “As much as I want to fuck you on this piano, I told you no one else gets to see what’s mine. Say it.”
I take his hand and stare at him. “Say what?”
“That you’re mine.”
I don’t know what happened in the hours he was gone, but there’s so much devastation in his gaze that my heart makes a sad extra thump.
I swallow and stare him straight in the eyes. “I’m yours.”
The second the words are out of my mouth, he’s back on me, that same wildness in every brush of his lips, every swipe of his tongue.
“Hold on.” His hands go under my butt to lift me into his arms.
I circle my legs around his waist, and he carries me out of the music room.
Somehow, we end up in this position a lot.