Page 32 of His Ruthless Match (Below #3)

EVA

I paced back and forth in my office, my mind running in circles.

It had been a full week since the tense encounter with Jareth after we got back from The Below.

The memory of it still lingered in the back of my mind, vivid and unrelenting, like a song stuck on repeat.

Since then, things between us had been… icy. Professional. Polite, even.

I hated it.

I hated that I hated it.

And I hated that I couldn’t stop thinking about his firm grip on my arms or the raw intensity in his voice when he’d said I drove him insane. My chest tightened, and I pushed the thought away. No use dwelling on something that was better left buried.

But it was harder to ignore the way he’d been acting since then.

Jareth, of all people, had decided to play the role of dutiful bodyguard to perfection.

No teasing remarks, no smug expressions.

Just watchful, overbearing professionalism.

I didn’t know what to make of it, and it was throwing me off my game.

I rubbed my temples as I resumed pacing. As if Jareth’s sudden personality transplant wasn’t enough, I had Genevieve to deal with.

Genevieve Witt was officially out of control. That’s what everyone was saying.

Despite Gabe deactivating her social media accounts, new videos of her had been going viral every day, each one more damning than the last. Drunken antics, screaming matches with strangers, and even what appeared to be an impromptu topless dance-off at some dive bar. None of it made any sense.

My calls, texts, and emails to her all went unanswered. She’d gone completely radio silent. My gut told me something was seriously wrong.

And as if that wasn’t enough to send me over the edge, her former co-stars—the ones we’d originally suspected were behind the smear campaign—had lawyered up.

Not only had they refused to respond to my communications, but they’d sent us a cease-and-desist letter.

Harassment, my ass. They claimed they had no involvement in any of the social media posts or leaked photos, and since Gabe had used questionable methods to obtain the trail, I didn’t have actual evidence I could use.

On top of all that, the gala for the Top 40 Under 40 was tonight, and I was dreading it. It was supposed to be a celebration, recognition for everything I’d worked so hard to achieve, but it felt like an insurmountable weight on my chest.

The whispers had already started. A few social media posts had questioned whether I was still as good as I used to be, and if I truly deserved a spot on that list. The posts were designed to sting and unravel a person bit by bit.

Gabe had buried them and boosted the glowing coverage of me, but that didn’t stop the doubt from creeping in.

What if they were right? What if I was slipping?

I sat down and stared blankly at my reflection in the black screen of my laptop.

My face was drawn, my eyes heavy with exhaustion.

Even with the best dress, the most perfect makeup, and every bit of polish I could muster, I wasn’t sure I could convince myself, let alone an entire room full of judgmental strangers, that I belonged there.

Of course, Jareth insisted on accompanying me tonight.

He was Raffaele’s man, sworn to protect me at all costs, but his recent behavior had thrown me off-kilter.

His sudden change in behavior was almost worse than his usual arrogant antics.

At least when he had been poking fun, I could fire back.

Now, he was a silent wall of detachment, shadowing my every move with that unreadable look on his face.

I didn’t know what was going on with him, but I didn’t like it.

My phone buzzed, and my brother’s name lit up the screen. I snatched it up and answered. “Hey,” I said, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice.

“Eva,” Raffaele greeted, his tone warm. “How are you holding up? Anything noteworthy happen in the last few days?”

I sighed. “I’m fine. Everything’s under control.”

“Is that so?” His voice had a knowing edge. “And Jareth? Has he been helpful?”

“Jareth’s been…” I paused, searching for the right words. “Fine. But honestly, I think he can go back to The Below. I can handle things.”

“That’s not happening. You know why he’s there.”

I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn’t see me. “Of course I do. I just don’t think it’s necessary anymore.”

“Well, I do. Now, about tonight. Congratulations again. I’m proud of you.”

My stomach twisted. “Thank you.”

“I mean it, Eva. Let loose and have some fun. You’ve earned it.” He paused, then added, “Oh, and I took the liberty of ordering a limo for you. Consider it a special treat.”

“Raffy—”

“Don’t argue. Just enjoy it.”

The line went dead before I could respond, and I let out a frustrated sigh just as someone knocked on the door. “Come in,” I called, expecting Jareth.

Instead, Theo strolled in, a magazine in hand and a grin on his face. “Boss lady, you need to stop pacing and go get ready. Big night ahead.”

“I have so much to do, Theo. I can’t just?—”

“Oh, please.” He waved the magazine in the air. “You’ve done enough. Look at this!” He held it up, open to the spread about the Top 40 Under 40 . My photo stared back at me, polished and professional, the article praising my career and accomplishments.

“You look fantastic,” Theo said, his grin widening. “And you did such a great job representing the firm in your interview. You should be proud. I certainly am.”

I took the magazine from him and studied the page. I did look good. And the article reminded me that I was doing something right, even if everything else felt like it was falling apart. “Thanks, Theo.”

“You’re welcome. Now, seriously, go home and get ready. I’ll hold down the fort here and call you if anything happens.”

His reassuring smile and lighthearted tone eased some of my tension. “Okay, but you’d better actually call me if something happens.”

“Scout’s honor,” he said, raising two fingers. “Knock ’em dead tonight.”

As I grabbed my things and headed out, I tried to focus on his words instead of the storm of anxiety brewing inside me. Tonight would be fine. It had to be.

When I stepped into my apartment, I was fully prepared to see Jareth lounging on the couch. What I was not prepared for was the sight of him standing in my kitchen in a tuxedo that showed off his muscled physique.

I actually gasped at the sight of him. He turned to face me, and of course, the bastard’s smirk was firmly in place.

“Do I meet your impossibly high standards, Ms. Delgado?” he asked, throwing his arms out in a mock twirl. “Wouldn’t want to embarrass you tonight.”

His words were a subtle jab, reminding me of the stupid things I’d said to him in the heat of anger a week ago.

I considered apologizing, but the thought of admitting I’d been wrong—to him of all people—made my stomach churn.

Instead, I straightened my shoulders and forced a mask of indifference onto my face.

“You’ll do,” I said dismissively, brushing past him and heading toward my bedroom.

As soon as the door shut behind me, I exhaled shakily.

My hands were trembling, and I couldn’t decide if it was because of the nerves twisting in my stomach over the gala or because Jareth looked so fucking hot.

I hated that it was affecting me. It was just a tuxedo. Any man looked good in a tux, right?

I started on my hair and makeup, trying to keep my mind focused on the task at hand, but my hands refused to cooperate.

The eyeliner I was attempting to apply looked more like war paint, and my curls refused to cooperate.

Every time I caught my reflection, I felt a pang of irritation to see the flush in my cheeks because Jareth’s smirk was burned into my memory.

I slipped into my dress, smoothing the fabric down over my hips.

The elegant black silk hugged my body perfectly.

As I reached for the zipper, my irritation surged.

Of course, it was impossible to zip it up on my own.

When I’d tried it on in the store, the saleswoman had been there to help. Now, I had no choice but to ask Jareth.

I walked back into the kitchen, gripping the top of my dress to keep it from slipping down. Jareth turned, and the expression on his face was almost enough to make me trip. His jaw dropped, and for once, there was no trace of that smirk.

He shook his head slightly, as if to clear it. I expected him to say something sarcastic, but instead, he shocked me.

“Damn, Eva. You look stunning.”

Heat crept up my neck. I hated how much of an effect his words had on me. “Thanks,” I muttered as I turned around. “Can you, uh… can you zip me up, please?”

“Gladly.”

A strange shiver crept down my spine. His hand settled on my hip, the heat of his touch searing through the thin fabric of my dress.

His other hand moved to the zipper, and he took his time pulling it up, the metal teeth sliding together in a slow, deliberate motion.

His fingers brushed against my skin, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from reacting.

I closed my eyes, swallowing hard as his hand lingered for just a moment longer than necessary.

Suddenly, a loud pop echoed through the kitchen, and we both jumped. I spun around to see Grelth standing in the middle of the room, his perpetually disgruntled expression firmly in place.

“Well,” he said, his beady eyes flicking between us, “don’t you two clean up nicely. I’d forgotten about the event tonight. I suppose you won’t be needing my services.”

Jareth recovered faster than I did. He scoffed as he stepped away from me. “We’ll be eating at the gala, Grelth. You’ve got the night off.”

“Fantastic. I can finally work on my knitting project.” He vanished with another loud pop .

The tension between us broke, and I burst out laughing. “I wonder what he’s making.”

Jareth chuckled. “Probably underwear for me.”