Chapter Eight
Eva
“That was incredible, Eva. It’s the best meal I’ve ever eaten,” Trace said earnestly as he sipped a cup of cappuccino in the living room.
I rubbed my belly, wishing I could have eaten more. The Thanksgiving feast had turned out well, and it was the best meal I’d ever eaten. I didn’t think it was so much my cooking skills, but Trace’s fabulous kitchen. It had every convenience and the fanciest equipment I’d ever used. I was guessing it would be hard to screw up a meal in his kitchen.
“Thanks for letting me cook. Your kitchen is amazing.”
He raised a brow as he lifted his mug to his mouth. “You say that like I was doing you a favor instead of vice-versa.”
He actually had done me a favor. I loved to cook, and his facilities were a cook’s dream. “I liked doing it.”
I’d been more than a little surprised when he’d pitched in with the cleanup and cleared the table while I loaded the dishwasher. The task had seemed way too domestic for him, but it made me like him even more because he didn’t seem to mind helping out, even if it was a job that he usually didn’t do.
“I think you should scrap the job at one of the resorts and go to culinary school. It’s obviously your passion. You should pursue it as a career,” Trace mused, his expression watchful.
“I can’t. I need this job, Trace.” Cooking was my passion, but I was a realist. I needed to work to survive.
“I can help you get what you should have had, Eva. I want to.”
I shook my head. “No. You’ve helped me enough.”
“Nothing I do will ever be enough to undo the past.”
“It’s not your responsibility to try to make it better,” I told him calmly.
“I’m your stepbrother,” he argued.
A chuckle escaped my lips. If he was playing the “you’re my family” card, I knew he was desperate. He usually chose not to acknowledge that he was related to me by marriage.
Probably because he’d just screwed me the night before.
“What? I am your family,” he said stubbornly.
“We have no connection, Trace, and you know it. You don’t owe me anything, and even if you did, you’ve done me a huge favor by giving me work.”
The fact that my mother married his father meant absolutely nothing. He hadn’t even known my mother, so it wasn’t like he could claim a connection through her.
“I’m not offering because of our connection. I want to do it because you have a real talent, Eva. You should be able to do what you want to do.”
“Did you?” I asked hesitantly. Trace had been young when his father had died, way too young to take on the responsibilities of the world the way he did now.
He shrugged. “Mostly. I always knew I’d take Dad’s place someday. Sebastian wasn’t interested in business, and Dane’s an amazing artist. I don’t think either one of them had any desire to be Dad’s successor.”
“You never wanted something different?”
“I wanted things to work out differently. I wanted Dad with me a hell of a lot longer than he stayed alive. And I wanted Dane to never have experienced the pain he did. I wanted some time to get my MBA and work a little more on perfecting my mixed martial arts skills. I competed in college a little, but I wanted…more.”
“You do MMA?” Okay, I was surprised, but maybe I shouldn’t have been. The guy moved lightning fast, and it was evident that he worked out.
“Only as a hobby.”
“Did you finish your master’s degree?”
“Of course. It took me a while because I was filling Dad’s role in the company, but I finished.”
Of course you did!
Was there anything Trace Walker couldn’t do?
Obviously, the one thing he couldn’t accomplish was managing his brothers’ lives.
“So your brothers aren’t part of the company now?” I was curious.
“No. It’s just me. I bought them out because they didn’t want the same things. Both of them are incredibly wealthy men, but they aren’t in the Walker conglomerate anymore. It’s not what they wanted.”
“What do they want?” What do you want?
“I think they’re pretty much doing what they want,” Trace said sarcastically. “Sebastian does as little as possible when it involves work, and Dane lives outside of society on a private island. His work is in demand, but he doesn’t make personal appearances.”
“Are his injuries that bad?” I wondered what had made Dane separate himself completely.
“I don’t know. He’s my brother. I’ve never looked at him as anything except my family. I guess I don’t notice any of his scars anymore.”
“You’re worried,” I observed.
“Yes.” Trace sounded reluctant to admit his concern.
“You’re not responsible for their current situations, any more than you’re guilty of the plane crashing.” Trace was shouldering the burden of his siblings’ wellbeing, and he needed to let go. His brothers were adults, and needed to find their own ways.
“I’m their older brother,” he argued gruffly.
“Exactly. You’re not their father.” He needed to understand that even though he had taken on his father’s role in the company, his brothers were never going to see him as anything other than their oldest sibling. In fact, they might end up resenting him for trying to fix them.
I could easily see all of these issues because I was an outsider. I know that, for Trace, letting go was a struggle. He tried to act like he didn’t care, but he cared very much. Maybe too much. Easy for me to say, I guess, considering I had nobody. But my heart ached for the suffering this family had been through. And judging by what little Trace had shared, the family was still broken.
We were silent for a few minutes, Trace looking like he was lost in thought. I finished my coffee and sat the mug carefully on the end table next to my chair. He finished his moments later, and placed his used cup on the coffee table in front of him.
“Britney is definitely my fault,” he confessed with a stoic expression. “She went after Dane specifically because I dumped her.”
“She’s a poisonous snake,” I grumbled. “And it’s not your fault she sought Dane out. That’s all on her.”
It made my stomach roll to think that a woman could prey on a man who was as vulnerable as Dane.
“You make it sound like nothing is my fault.” There was humor in Trace’s voice.
“I’m sure you’re guilty of many things, but not your brothers’ problems. Both of them are wealthy, grown men who can choose what they want to do.”
“What am I guilty of then?” His tone was teasing.
You’re guilty of breaking my heart over a family that I’ve never even met. You’re guilty of making me care whether you’re all put together again, even though I’ve always hated the Walker name in the past. You’re guilty of doing things to me, making me feel emotions I’ve never had before. And it’s starting to mess with my head.
I took a deep breath. “I think you’re incredibly bossy, and you hate it when things don’t go exactly the way you want. I think your control is so important to you because if you ever lost it, it would make you less like your father. In your eyes, that would be almost unforgivable. I think you care about your brothers’ wellbeing more than you want to admit. And I think you’re a wonderfully generous man, but that’s a side of you that you don’t let anyone see.”
“I think you’re crazy.” Trace was frowning now.
I raised a brow, mimicking his expression when he was annoyed. “You think so?”
He nodded curtly. “I’m an asshole because I have to be. Business gets nasty.”
“You’re distant because you have to be. Do you think I don’t understand that?” I’d spent years being distant, having only books as friends while I stared at the same concrete walls and bars every single day. I got it. Obviously, he didn’t. For him, the distance wasn’t deliberate. It was the way he lived his life to protect himself.
“Maybe you do understand,” he said grudgingly. Trace stood and held out his hand. “Come with me.”
I knew that he was changing the subject because he wasn’t comfortable with talking about himself, but I let him off the hook. Hell, sometimes there were things I didn’t want to deal with either. I let him tug me to my feet and I followed in his wake as he made his way to his home office.
“You asked about the cell phone. I had some things delivered for you, things I knew you would need.”
And he thinks he’s an asshole? The breath whooshed from my lungs as he arrived at his destination and pointed toward a pile of goods that took up half of the floor space in his office. “What did you do?” I asked breathlessly.
He’d already provided me a new wardrobe to play my part. Did I really need all this?
“Your new phone.” He unplugged the latest model iPhone from the charger and handed it to me. “I think it has everything you’ll need installed.”
I took the cell from him automatically, still gaping at the ton of things he thought it was necessary for me to have.
A new laptop computer.
A digital camera.
A Kindle e-reader?
I reached out and touched the marvelous device that was capable of bringing me something I dearly loved: unlimited books.
“I thought you’d like it. I opened an account for you, and loaded it with funds from a gift card. You can get as many books as you want.”
Oh. My. God. He’d went so far overboard on what I really needed, but it touched me that he’d been listening to me when I told him I loved to read. “Trace, I don’t need all of these things. They aren’t necessities.”
“Some women would argue about that,” he answered drily.
“I wouldn’t. I know exactly what I need to survive.” I picked up another box. “What’s this?”
He shrugged. “Jewelry. If we’re engaged, I’ve obviously given you stuff. Gifts.”
I dropped the box instantly, recoiling from the thought of jewelry. “I don’t want it.”
“Don’t, Eva. I know how you feel about the past, but these are gifts.”
“Not jewelry.” I shook my head and backed away from the plethora of electronics, jewelry and gifts.
“Yes. If we’re together, I’d make you accept every damn thing I wanted to give you.” He turned and strode to his desk and brought back a small box that didn’t look new. He held it out to me. “Your engagement ring.”
I swallowed hard and tried to breathe. I couldn’t wear expensive jewelry. “I can’t.” My voice was cracking with emotion, and tears sprung to my eyes.
Trace opened the black velvet box and took the ring out. “Yes, you can.” He took my hand and slowly worked the ring onto my finger. “It’s necessary.”
I held out my hand when he was finished, noticing that I was actually shaking. The ring was stunning. Princess cut and probably several carats, it sparkled with a fire that was nearly blinding. “It’s beautiful, but it’s enormous. What if I lose it?”
Shit, I’d be terrified every single day with this rock on my finger.
“It belonged to my mom, so I’d prefer you didn’t take it off,” he answered huskily.
I gaped up at him. “Oh, my God. Can’t we pick something else?” The giant diamond had sentimental value to him, and I didn’t want to be responsible for losing something that belonged to his mother.
He grinned at me. “No. I’m the oldest son. My fiancée would be expected to wear it, unless you hate it.”
“I don’t hate it,” I rushed to assure him. “It’s amazing.” I was telling the truth. The ring was magnificent, but I was terrified to have it on my finger. “But it means something to you, and I don’t want anything to happen to it.”
“Nothing will happen. And it looks good on your finger. It fits almost perfectly.”
Yes, it did. His mother must have had almost the same ring size. “That’s not the point.”
“You need to wear the ring, and I hope you’ll wear the other stuff I bought for you. That jewelry is all yours. I bought it.”
I tried taking deep breaths to control my panic. I couldn’t believe he was trusting a woman who had done time for stealing expensive jewelry with a priceless heirloom, and a ton of other expensive gems. What was he thinking? Yeah, he’d said he trusted me, but I hadn’t realized quite how much…until now.
Trace really does believe I could never steal anything.
He sat down in a brown leather chair near the pile of gifts, then grasped my hand and yanked me down onto his lap. I struggled for balance, but finally righted myself with Trace’s protective grip on my waist, and my arms wrapped around his neck.
I looked down at him from my perch on his thighs, sighing as I saw the hungry look on his face. “I’m not sure I can do this.”
“Are you backing out of our deal?” he growled, his grip tightening around me.
I shook my head. “No. But all of this is mind-blowing, Trace. And for obvious reasons, I hate jewelry.”
“This is different, Eva. And I love seeing my mother’s ring on your finger.”
“Why?” I asked curiously.
“Because it means that for now, you belong to me.”
I didn’t have time to babble a response before he snaked a hand around the back of my neck and pulled my lips down none-too-gently to capture my mouth.