Page 85 of His Ruthless Match

I dragged a hand through my hair, trying to rein in the storm of emotions threatening to break loose. “Right. Well,” I said, forcing some levity into my tone, “I guess we should go pick out some wigs.”

Eva huffed a laugh, though it lacked any real humor. She opened her door without looking at me, her movements stiff and deliberate. I followed her out of the car, my jaw clenched as I tried to focus on the task at hand.

As we made our way toward the Veil tear, I couldn’t help but glance at her again. Even with everything weighing her down, she moved with a magnetic confidence. And it was that fire,that strength, that made her dangerous. Because the more I was around her, the more I realized I was in too deep. And I wasn’t sure I’d make it out unscathed.

24

EVA

Ipulled the hood of my jacket tighter around my face, more wary now after Raffaele’s warning. Jareth strode along beside, his face obscure beneath sunglasses and a baseball cap. The streets buzzed with life, but I couldn’t focus on any of it. It all blurred together—the people, the sounds, the city itself. My life felt like it was spiraling out of control, and I had no idea how to fix it.

The thing with Genevieve loomed over me like a storm cloud. I didn’t know what was going on with her, and I hated feeling so helpless. My career, my carefully curated reputation, was teetering on the edge of a cliff. And then there was Jareth. Jareth, who had drawn a big, bold line in the sand after last night, making it abundantly clear he regretted every second of it. The rejection stung more than I cared to admit, and I didn’t even know why.

It wasn’t like I wanted romance, I thought bitterly, shoving those feelings aside.It wasn’t like we were soulmates or anything ridiculous like that.It had been an impulsive, stupid decision. And he clearly thought it was a mistake.

Fuck Jareth and his perfect hair.

To make matters worse, my brother was taking complete control of my life, which I never asked for. I never fucking asked for any of this.

But even as I spat venom at Raffaele in my mind, I couldn’t shake the nagging guilt. He had always worked so hard to keep me safe, to keep me out of The Below and away from its dangers. This wasn’t what he wanted for me, and I knew it. But it still fucking sucked. My life wasn’t my own anymore, and I hated every second of it.

Jareth cleared his throat as we approached the wig shop. He held the door open, stepping aside to let me enter first. I walked in, my heels clicking against the polished floor, and froze. The store was unlike anything I’d ever seen. Wigs lined the walls, displayed on mannequin heads of every shape and size. They came in every color, length, and style imaginable. I couldn’t believe I’d sent clients here without ever stepping foot inside.

“Well,” Jareth said, glancing around, “this is… something.”

I rolled my eyes. “Let’s just get this over with.”

He gestured toward the women’s section. “Ladies first. Let’s pick yours out.”

I followed him reluctantly, scanning the options in front of me. Jareth plucked a long, curly red wig off the wall and held it up to my face, smirking. “This would look good on you.”

I snatched it out of his hands and walked to a mirror as I put it on. One look at my reflection had me scowling. “I look like a clown who just survived an unfortunate electrocution accident.”

Jareth laughed, full and loud. “Yeah, maybe that’s not the best choice.”

His laughter was contagious, and I couldn’t stop my lips from twitching into a reluctant smile. I tried on a few more wigs—some too big, others too bright—and we both agreed that none of them suited me. Finally, Jareth held up a sleek blonde bob that hit just below my chin.

“Here,” he said. He stepped up behind me as I put it on. “This one could work.”

I looked at my reflection and paused. It wasn’t half bad. The short, bright hair made me look like a completely different person.

“If you’re going to wear a disguise, it makes sense to go from having long black hair to short blonde hair. I think it’s a smart choice.”

“It’s not horrible,” I admitted. “All right. This will do.”

Jareth grinned. “Great. Now, let’s have some fun in the men’s section.”

I followed him to the other side of the store, where he immediately grabbed a black afro wig and plopped it onto his head. He struck a dramatic pose in front of the mirror. “Perfect. I’ll be your pimp daddy as we walk the streets of New York.”

I burst out laughing. “You look ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously amazing,” he corrected.

I rolled my eyes and tossed a long, shaggy brown wig at him. “Try this one.”

He slipped it on and turned to the mirror, his expression thoughtful. “Not bad,” he said, puffing out his chest. “I look like an aging rock star.”

“You’re ready for your comeback tour.”