The Broken King's Silent Obsession

Le Bernardin was quiet, the lunchtime rush having settled into a low murmur of business deals and affairs.

Evita sat across from Julian, picking at a lobster salad she couldn't eat. Her stomach was in knots.

"Relax," Julian said, slicing his steak with surgical precision. "You're doing fine. Just look adoring."

Evita caught his eye, then subtly angled her head toward the window, her expression a mask of vacant confusion. It was a pre-arranged signal. Why me?

Julian took a sip of wine. "Because you're a blank slate, Evita. Your file in Zurich is empty. No records, no history. That's rare. It means you're either nobody, or you're somebody very interesting."

Evita's hand tightened on her napkin. He was fishing.

Suddenly, the hum of the restaurant died. Silence rippled from the entrance like a wave.

Evita turned.

Jedidiah Stone was rolling through the dining room.

He was imposing, even sitting down. He wore a charcoal suit that fit his broad shoulders perfectly. His face was a mask of cold indifference, but his eyes were scanning the room like a predator. Quentin walked a step behind him.

Evita's fork clattered onto her plate. The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet room.

It was him. In the light.

He was more handsome than she remembered, and far more terrifying.

He rolled straight to their table. He didn't look at Julian. He looked at Evita.

Evita lowered her head, letting her hair fall forward to curtain her face. Don't look at him. Don't react.

"Jedidiah," Julian said, not standing up. "To what do we owe the honor? I thought you were allergic to sunlight."

"I heard the news," Jedidiah said. His voice was deep, resonating in Evita's chest. "I wanted to see the woman who finally got you to settle down."

He turned his chair slightly, facing Evita. "Miss Peck. Look at me."

It was a command.

Evita forced herself to lift her head. She made her eyes go unfocused, her mouth slightly slack. She adopted the vacant expression she had perfected over years of abuse.

Jedidiah stared into her eyes. He was searching for the spark he had seen in the dark. The fire.

But there was nothing. Just a dull, empty gaze.

He felt a pang of disappointment. Was he wrong?

"Congratulations, Julian," Jedidiah said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I heard you picked up my leftovers. The Peck family was desperate to offload her to my cousin."

"One man's trash is another man's treasure," Julian replied smoothly. "Besides, you never really... had her, did you?"

Jedidiah's jaw tightened. The double meaning hung in the air.

"Do you mind if I join you?" Jedidiah didn't wait for an answer. He signaled a waiter. "Bring a bottle of the '96 Château Margaux."

Evita froze. That was the wine. The wine O'Connell had forced her to drink. The smell alone would trigger her gag reflex.

The waiter poured three glasses. The aroma wafted across the table-earthy, rich, and terrifying.

Evita went pale. A sheen of sweat broke out on her upper lip.

Jedidiah watched her closely. "Is something wrong, Miss Peck? You look... unwell."

"She doesn't drink," Julian said quickly, placing a hand over Evita's glass. "Allergies."

"Is that so?" Jedidiah swirled his glass. "I heard O'Connell bought her a very expensive drink the other night. She seemed to enjoy it then."

Evita reached under the table and pinched the skin of her thigh, hard. The sharp pain grounded her. She kept her face blank, staring at the tablecloth.

"She has a delicate constitution," Julian said, his eyes narrowing at Jedidiah.

"Pity," Jedidiah said. He took a sip, his eyes never leaving Evita's face. "I prefer women with a bit more... tolerance."

Evita felt like she was being dissected. He was testing her. Pushing buttons to see if the machine would react.

She needed to get away.

She stood up abruptly, knocking her knee against the table leg. She pointed to the restroom sign.

"Go ahead, darling," Julian said.

Evita hurried away, her limp slightly exaggerated.

Jedidiah watched her go. He noticed the way she moved. It was clumsy, yes. But her stride... the length of her step... it matched the woman on the security footage.

"Excuse me," Jedidiah said. He spun his chair around and followed her.