Evie shook her head, battling a wave of confusion. “I never sent you a letter, Mr. Maverine. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Arthur stood, pulling a piece of parchment from one of the folds in his robe. Opening it while he reseated himself, he began to read.
“‘Dear Arthur Maverine, I realize you do not know me. But I know your son. I work very closely with him. Considering our connection, I would truly be so grateful if you are able to provide me an invitation to one of your illustrious celebrations. It would be of great import to not only me but also your son. Signed, Evangelina Sage.’” When he finished reading, he looked up at her expectantly.
Evie shook her head furiously. “No, no. I did not send you that letter, sir. I’m not sure who did, but it was not me.” Evie searched the crowd for Blade and Becky, but the two had disappeared.
Arthur’s face was pinched with concern. It was fatherly, and Evie almost asked him for a hug—almost.
“I assure you, Evie.” He tested the name out like he wanted to be sure he was getting it right. “When I received this missive, I was intrigued. I felt I had no choice but to attend and seek you out.”
It was at this moment that she wished she had the ability to tell truth from deception. Her na?veté chose the most random times to appear, and she never saw it coming until it bit her in the ass.
But he looked so sincere.
“Do you—？ Are you aware of—？” She struggled to delicately ask if Arthur knew of his son’s chosen profession.
“Who my son is?” The man folded his hands, smiling through a painful expression. “Yes, I’m very aware of what life Trystan has chosen for himself.”
“Oh,” Evie said meekly. This really wasn’t going the way she had planned it. She felt no closer to finding her answers. In fact, they felt further away. Like she was running down a long hallway to a door she could never seem to reach. “Well, that’s good, I suppose.”
“You work closely with him?” Arthur asked, nothing but kind curiosity in his expression.
“Yes.” Evie nodded. “He is a wonderful boss.”
He cleared his throat, adjusting the buttons sitting under his chin. “I’m glad he has someone who cares for him.”
Evie sensed he was implying a closer relationship, and she fumbled over her words to set the record straight. For posterity and all. “I am his assistant, so of course I must care for his needs…his work needs. You know, as his work assistant should always do.”
“I concur.”
The deep, resounding voice caused them both to jolt in their seats before she watched Arthur’s eyes widen, his face going white with shock.
Evie watched Arthur stand slowly, reaching out both of his hands. “Trystan,” he breathed.
“Hello, Arthur.”
Evie turned around and saw The Villain’s black-clad form.
His dark eyes found hers, palpable anger there. “Hello, Sage.”
Eyes wide in disbelief, she said, “By the gods, sir! If you insist on continuing to sneak up behind me like that, I’m going to force you to wear a bell.” Honestly, this is growing a little ridiculous.
But her good humor was quickly diminished by a shiver that raced down her spine as she realized the trouble she’d caused. Because of her not taking the invitation to the boss in the first place, he was now having a very public reunion with his father. A reunion, she was almost certain, he had never intended to have. At least not now, not in front of her.
As her gaze darted around the packed gathering, she began figuring out the easiest escape. To run away from this disaster.
Chapter 42
The Villain
Keep your fury calm.
It was a sentence that replayed in Trystan’s head so often, he figured it was branded inside his skull, a permanent part of his being.
But it was difficult to be calm when so many things were spiking the pressure in his head like a teakettle ready to screech. For one thing, his father, a man he swore to himself he’d never look in the eyes again, was staring right at him. One of his guards had informed him of a suspicious meeting among a few members of his closest circle of employees, and Trystan was out the door before Sage’s name left Dante’s lips.
He knew it was one of Arthur’s gatherings the moment he heard the music, saw the lanterns. The opulent decorations were everything he remembered them to be from his childhood, and he hated it.
Not to mention the dancing until dawn while Arthur used whatever magic was in his arsenal to heal the hearts of every person who asked, which was quite a few. He’d thought Arthur had retired these little soirees, but a tightness in his gut told him this was far from coincidence when so many things already seemed to be going wrong in his life.