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“Ava?”
I lift my head and pause when I’m met with a familiar face. He’s taller now, more muscular, but he’s still the same guy. Shiny blond hair, sparkling blue eyes, chiseled nose—the epitome of a European prince.
“V?” I ask.
“I’m honored you remember me,” Vance says with a blinding smile.
“Of course I’d remember, you silly oaf, come here.” I stand up and hug him, and then point at my company. “This is Creighton and Annika, my friends. Vance is a school darling.”
“Your favorite darling, pink princess?”
“You know you are.”
Creighton stands and shakes his head not so gently. “Nice to meet you, Vance. I’m Ava’s brother-in-law.”
Prick.
Is he getting paid by Eli today or something?
“I’m aware. No one in this country missed the infamous marriage that could only be rivaled by a royal wedding.” Vance’s cordial tone doesn’t change, letting Creigh’s peacock behavior fly past him.
In an ideal world, I’d be married to someone like Vance right now. Beautiful, respectful, and would worship me like a queen.
Instead, I’m stuck with a psycho.
“Wrong.” Creigh releases him. “We’re much wealthier than the royal family.”
“Creigh!” Anni tugs on his sleeve.
“So I’ve heard.” Vance keeps the perfect polite smile. “Might I join you?”
“Certainly.” I usher him to the seat beside me before Creigh indulges in his rare dickish behavior.
I’m thankful Vance doesn’t seem to let it affect him as he orders some food and I get more yuzu water.
We catch up about the past few years we haven’t been in touch. He went to study at Harvard after school and then went to Australia to help manage a branch of his family’s business. He’s now back in London at the headquarters of their company that manages this restaurant and a few other places in Chelsea and Belgravia.
The entire time he speaks, Anni and I try to be amicable, but Creigh seems to be possessed by his brother’s demonic soul.
It’s actually challenging for Vance to say a word without Creigh either mocking him or being passive-aggressive for no apparent reason.
“You’ve been doing so well.” I smile.
“Not as well as you, obviously.” He points at my hand. “That ring is a blindness hazard.”
“And yet you can still see. Looks like I need to up my game.” Eli’s deep, dark voice rushes beneath my skin like a shot of adrenaline.
My pulse spikes and a shiver crawls down my spine as I look to my side.
There he is.
The bastard.
There’s masculine beauty, and then there’s Eli in a black suit, powder-blue shirt, slicked hair, and a jaw so chiseled, it has the capacity to cut people in half.
I’m people. People is me.
It’s tragically unfair that the devil looks mouthwateringly tempting. No wonder people sell their souls.
