Chapter 8

The motion-activated light flickered in the stairwell.

Evelyn Sinclair stood at the border between light and shadow, her figure seemingly split in two.

Alexander Kingsley's footsteps halted abruptly.

He barely recognized the woman before him.

The Evelyn who always wore white dresses now sported a black motorcycle jacket over a wine-red velvet blouse. Skinny jeans accentuated her slender legs.

She'd even cut her hair short, the curled ends brushing against her collarbones.

Bold. Rebellious.

Alexander's pupils constricted.

The Evelyn in his memory had always been docile and obedient—white dresses, straight black hair, like a still ink painting.

But now...

"Following me?" His voice turned glacial. "Since when did you resort to such cheap tactics, Evelyn?"

Her fingers absently traced the strap of her shoulder bag.

She hadn't expected to encounter Alexander here.

Nor had she anticipated his immediate accusation upon their reunion.

"I'm here for an interview," she said calmly.

Alexander scoffed, his gaze sweeping over her new attire. "Dressed like that for an interview?"

He stepped forward, trapping her against the wall. "Or did you know Isabella would be here tonight?"

Her back pressed against the cold surface.

His familiar cedarwood scent mixed with faint traces of alcohol surrounded her.

"So," she met his eyes directly, "the rumors about you and Isabella Winslow are true?"

Darkness flashed in Alexander's gaze.

He seized her wrist with bruising force.

"Is this your game?" Danger laced his words. "Did you think a makeover would make me notice you?"

Evelyn struggled futilely against his grip.

A humorless smile curved her lips. "Why so defensive, Mr. Kingsley? Afraid I'll ruin your plans?"

His knuckles whitened.

He searched her eyes for the familiar adoration and timidity.

Only calm indifference stared back.

The realization unsettled him.

"Who I choose is none of your concern." Releasing her with disdain, he sneered, "Don't humiliate yourself, Evelyn."

She rubbed her reddened wrist.

She should be used to this by now.

Alexander never gave her straight answers.

"I read that article," she said softly. "The evidence seemed compelling."

His expression darkened.

"Evidence?" He laughed coldly. "Reporters will fabricate anything for clicks. Just like you'll use any means to get close to me."

The words pierced her heart.

Yet she merely lifted her chin. "So you deny the relationship with Isabella?"

Alexander suddenly gripped her chin.

"Evelyn," his voice dropped dangerously low, "since when do you speak to me like this?"

His thumb traced her lower lip with deceptive gentleness, his eyes glacial.

"Have I been too lenient with you lately?"

Her breath caught.

She knew that look too well.

That mocking half-smile always preceded his punishments.

"Answer me," she persisted. "You and Isabella—"

"Enough!" He released her violently. "Evelyn, how dare you compare yourself to her?"

The words stabbed like a knife.

She bit her lip until copper flooded her mouth.

The recorder in her bag kept running.

She needed this confirmation.

"So it's true then? You're together?"

Alexander studied her before smiling cruelly.

"What if we are?" He adjusted his cufflinks leisurely. "Surely you didn't think I'd choose you over Isabella?"

Her nails dug into her palms.

Her expression remained unreadable.

"Thank you for the interview, Mr. Kingsley." She inclined her head slightly. "I wish you happiness."

Turning to leave, she found her arm seized again.

"Just like that?" Disbelief colored his voice. "What game are you playing now, Evelyn?"

She turned back with a flawless smile.

"The interview," she said softly, "is over."

Alexander's pupils dilated.

Suddenly, he realized—this Evelyn felt different.

The girl who once gazed at him with adoration now looked at him like a stranger.

The realization tightened his chest.

"Evelyn," he ground out her name, "you think this act will make me notice you?"

She freed herself effortlessly.

"You flatter yourself." She stepped back politely. "I'm simply doing my job."

Her spine remained straight as she walked away.

Alexander stood frozen, watching her disappear around the stairwell corner.

An unsettling sensation crept over him—as though something vital was slipping through his fingers.