Page 73 of His Ruthless Match (Below #3)

EVA

T he bedroom Raffaele had assigned me was enormous.

Every inch of it screamed luxury—the massive four-poster bed with thick velvet drapes, the antique furniture polished to a gleaming finish, the chandelier casting soft, golden light over the space.

It was beautiful, but it wasn’t home. And it wasn’t my little corner of Jareth’s cottage.

No amount of opulence could fill the void in my heart.

I sat on the edge of the bed, clutching one of the embroidered pillows like it was the only thing holding me together.

Tears streamed down my face. No matter how many times I wiped them away, they kept coming, blurring my vision and soaking the pillow.

My throat ached from crying, my chest tight like a fist was squeezing the air out of me.

Jareth had left. He didn’t even say goodbye.

I was falling for him. Hell, I’d known it for a while.

But I didn’t realize just how much he meant to me until he was ripped away from me.

The pain was suffocating, overwhelming, and no amount of deep breaths or comforting thoughts could dull it.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to break something, but I didn’t have the energy.

All I could do was sit there with tears rolling down my cheeks as I replayed every moment we’d spent together, every sharp word, every heated glance, every quiet, stolen moment.

It was all gone. He was gone. And I didn’t know how to fix it.

My phone buzzed, and Gabe’s name lit up the screen. I almost didn’t answer since I couldn’t think straight, but something in my gut told me to take it, so I reluctantly picked up.

“Tell me you’ve got good news,” I said, wedging the phone between my shoulder and cheek.

“You owe me drinks for a month,” Gabe replied, and I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Maybe two.”

“What did you find?”

“Remember that flag I set on Cerulean Innovations?”

Of course I remembered. That name was the only breadcrumb we had after weeks of digging—tied to nothing, registered to no one, no digital footprint whatsoever. Until now.

“It just pinged,” he said, and my spine straightened like someone had poured ice water down it. “Brand new update. The company’s been formally filed under a larger corporation, one that happens to be owned by none other than Richard Foster.”

“Wait. The Richard Foster?”

“Yup,” Gabe confirmed. “Media tycoon, owner of half the television networks in the northern hemisphere, father of four, rumored coke habit?—”

“Holy shit.” I was already moving to the desk and grabbing a notebook. “You’re sure?”

“Positive. Cerulean Innovations is now listed as a wholly owned holding company under Foster’s shell corp. Technically, it’s labeled as a PR firm, but it hasn’t made any public-facing moves yet, just legal formation. No clients, no campaigns, no actual press releases.”

Yet.

I shot to my feet, notebook forgotten. “They’re the ones.”

“The ones what?”

“They’re the ones smearing Genevieve.” My mind was racing, connecting invisible dots at lightning speed.

“We couldn’t figure out who was leaking the stories or why there was no clear origin.

It’s because they used a fake PR front to seed it through anonymous channels.

The videos, the photo leaks… it all makes sense now. But the question is… why?”

Gabe was quiet for a beat. “You think Foster’s in on it directly?”

“No.” I stared at the wall. “I think he’s being used.”

I couldn’t say by whom. Not without opening a door Gabe didn’t even know existed.

But this was something. A name. A real human connection to the shitstorm we’d been swimming through for weeks.

The magical entity behind this had finally slipped up, because now we had a name we could drag into the light.

Gabe exhaled into the phone. “Maybe it’s time to send out a few of your footmen. See if Mr. Foster would like to comment on the connection between his new little PR toy and Genevieve’s imploding reputation.”

I smiled grimly. “Tempting. But I need you to handle this one.”

He paused. “You’re not going after him yourself?”

“I’m in the middle of…” I trailed off, glancing toward the closed door across the room. “Something else. Trust me, it’s better if you take point. Quietly. Use one of your clean burner accounts and reach out to Foster’s team. Don’t spook them.”

“Copy that. I’ll let you know what I find.”

“Thanks, Gabe.” I let out a heavy breath. “This might actually be the thread that unravels the whole thing.”

“I’ll pull until it breaks,” he promised, and then the line went dead.

A few minutes later, Raffaele walked into the room. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there with his hands shoved into his pockets, looking more uncomfortable than I’d ever seen him.

“Eva, are you… okay?”

I let out a bitter laugh as I wiped my tear-stained cheeks. “What do you think?”

He sighed as he stepped further into the room.

He looked like he wanted to comfort me, but I could see the uncertainty in his expression.

Raffaele wasn’t the comforting type. He was the leader of a ruthless empire, a man used to issuing commands and getting results.

He didn’t know what to do with a crying little sister.

“Tell me,” I said, my voice hoarse. “What did he say?”

Raffaele frowned. “Who?”

“Jareth,” I snapped, fresh tears spilling over. “What did he say to you? Why did he leave without saying goodbye?”

Raffaele hesitated, and for a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “He told me what happened in the Crimson Dominion,” he said, his tone carefully neutral. “And he said he couldn’t be trusted as your bodyguard anymore.”

My heart twisted painfully, and I shook my head. “So, you fired him?” My voice cracked, and I hated how weak I sounded. “Raffy, this was my fault. I lied to both of you! You can’t blame him for this.”

“The decision’s been made,” Raffaele said firmly, though there was a hint of regret in his voice. “He’s heading up the investigation into the Crimson Dominion. That’s where he needs to be right now.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I pushed off the bed, my legs shaking as I crossed the room toward him. “You can’t send him there,” I said, my voice rising. “That place is too dangerous. He’s going to get himself killed!”

Raffaele stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “Jareth’s a fucking ruthless assassin, Eva, in case you haven’t noticed. He’ll be fine. He probably should’ve been handling this investigation from the start.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off. “And since when do you care so much about what happens to Jareth? I thought you hated his guts and couldn’t wait to get rid of him. Well, congratulations. Your wish has been granted.”

His words stopped me cold. My breath caught in my throat as I tried to process what he’d just said.

My wish? Is that what he thought I wanted?

That I wanted Jareth gone? Sure, I felt that way at the beginning.

But now? The idea that I didn’t want him around was so ridiculous it almost made me laugh, but the tears came faster instead, blurring my vision.

“Eva…” Raffaele started, but he stopped talking when he saw I was shaking.

The fight drained out of me, and I broke down completely, sobbing into my hands.

Raffaele stepped forward, wrapping his arms around me in a rare display of affection.

He pulled me close, holding me tightly as I cried against his chest. His cologne, sharp and woodsy, filled my senses, and it almost felt like everything was okay. Almost.

“What can I do?” he asked quietly, his voice rumbling in my ear. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

I swallowed hard, trying to catch my breath. “I think…” I hiccupped, the words sticking in my throat. “I think I fell in love with your assassin.”

Raffaele’s arms tightened around me, and he let out a soft sigh. “I figured as much.”

I pulled back just enough to look up at him, confusion clouding my tear-streaked face. “You knew?”

“Eva,” he said, shaking his head with a small, rueful smile.

“I know better than anyone that we can’t control who we love.

You think I wanted to fall for Vivian? I fought it tooth and nail, but look at me now.

” He flashed his wedding ring before his smile faded.

“It’s going to be okay. I’ll get this figured out.

And soon, you’ll be back to your normal life. ”

My stomach turned at the thought. My “normal life” had been an endless cycle of meetings, court dates, paperwork, and sleepless nights digging into casework.

It was dull, suffocating, and lonely. The idea of returning to that—of living without Jareth, of never seeing him again—made me feel physically ill.

I shook my head. “I don’t want my normal life. Not anymore. I want him. I need to apologize to him for lying, Raffy. For pushing him too far even though I knew it was dangerous. I need him to forgive me.”

Raffaele looked down at me, his dark eyes filled with sympathy. He didn’t argue, didn’t tell me I was wrong or foolish. He just pulled me back into his arms and held me as I cried.

I didn’t know how to fix this. I didn’t know if it could be fixed. But I knew one thing with absolute certainty: I couldn’t lose Jareth. Not like this. Not forever.

When Raffaele left, I sat in stunned silence. Had I pushed Jareth away without realizing it?

I’d always been a loner. The kid whose father had murdered her mother. What kind of fucked-up history was that? Certainly not the kind that I could ever outrun, or the kind that I intended to share with a significant other.

My whole life, I’d tried to escape The Below, to escape the fact that my father was Lord Thorne. Yet here I sat, in Raffaele’s mansion, crying over a magical being who’d somehow stolen my heart. When had it happened? I wasn’t certain.