Mak knew why. Wherever Eva went, she would bring brightness, a sort of sparkle that was unique to her. Unlike anyone else in the world. She would bring energy, humor and a bit of scandal. And he doubted Van Saant would appreciate any of that.
She was right. She was nothing more than an item to these men, to her fiancé, to her father. A stock to be bought and sold when the market price was right. Van Saant had gotten a hell of deal since the value on his recent purchase was down, thanks to the salacious stories in the news.
The very idea made bile rise in his throat. Eva was a pearl beyond price. If it were but a matter of selling every last possession to have her, he would. He would give up everything to have her.
But it was more than that.
It was the cost to her, that was the cost that was unacceptable.
Finally, Van Saant quit speaking and music began playing again. Bastian took Eva’s hand and led her to the dance floor. Mak tightened his grip on the pillar, holding himself in place, willing himself not to cross the room and carry her out of it, just as he’d threatened to do at the casino so many weeks ago. Weeks that seemed like a lifetime ago.
Even if she ran from her fiancé’s arms now, there was nothing. He could do nothing. Give her nothing. Nothing but the shell of a man, a shadow of who he’d once been.
For a brief time, she’d brought something more back into his life. She gave him light again, in that way only she could. But he would steal it all someday, if he let her keep giving.
He would leave her as dry as he was now.
The dancing couple turned and he caught Eva’s eyes, saw a weight, a haunting sadness in the dark depths he’d never seen before. He saw how much this marriage would cost her and it made his stomach burn.
He released his hold on the pillar and felt sharp pain he hadn’t been aware of. He looked at his palm, blood dripping from there down his wrist. There were thorns on the bronze vine. He hadn’t even realized.
Physical pain was nothing in the face of the pain in his chest. It was almost welcome, because it helped dull the edge. He brushed his hand down his pant leg, not caring if he left a stain. This entire night would leave a stain inside him. Forever. Why not have a bit of external proof?
He walked out of the ballroom and into the corridor, his heart raging. His tie suddenly felt too tight, as if it was choking him. He tugged on the knot and cast it onto the floor, walking toward the front entrance.
The front of the palace was lit up by hundreds of lights strung overhead. There were staff cars parked along the front, and even a horse-drawn carriage, as if it was a ball from a bloody fairy tale.
He stalked down the drive. He would have to come back. He was still working for the king. But he couldn’t stay now. He couldn’t bear to watch Eva with another man. With the man who would be bound to her for all of his life. The man who didn’t know what a gift that was.
“Mak!”
He turned and saw Eva running to him, her skirt balled up in her fists, tugged up past her knees, showing delicate, glittery shoes that glinted in the lights.
“Mak, please stop!”
He did and so did she, a few feet in front of him, her breasts rising and falling in time with her breathing, her heavy eye makeup smeared down her cheeks.
“You left your tie,” she said, her breathing heavy.
He noticed that she had the tie wadded up in the same hand that was gripping her skirt. “I have other black ties.”
“I know.”
He started to turn from her. “I’ll be back, Eva, I’m just leaving for a while.”
“Give me a reason, Mak,” she said, her voice breaking. “Give me just one. I’ll go and tell him it’s off. I’ll announce it to the whole damn country myself.” She raised her hand to wipe a tear from her cheek, her fingers trembling.
He shook his head. “Don’t. Don’t do it for me, Eva.”
“What other reason do I have?”
He closed the distance between them, taking a chance, a big chance, by touching her arm. “You’re worth more than that. Do it because you deserve happiness. Because you deserve to live for more than this outdated idea of what honor is. You are more than a possession, you’ve said it to me many times, so show your father it’s true. Those are good reasons, real reasons, to call it off. But don’t do it for me. I’m not worth it.”
“Yes you are,” she said, her voice thick.
Pain burst through him. “No. I have nothing to give you. Nothing.”
Eva looked at Mak, desperation gnawing at her. How could he see nothing in himself when she looked at him and saw her whole world.
“I don’t care,” she said, the words bursting from her. She didn’t care about her pride, not in that moment. “Let me take care of you. Let me give to you. Take from me. Take it all, I don’t care.”
He advanced on her and wrapped his hand around her wrist, tugging her up against him. He dropped his head and kissed her lips, fiercely, intimately. Like a man who knew every inch of his lover. A man who was desperate. Desperate for her.
He pulled away from her abruptly, taking a step back. “No, Eva. Don’t ask me to do that. Don’t tempt me. My honor has its limits. I know the cost of those kinds of relationships. I had no choice in mine. The only sins committed belonged to me. You have no obligation to me. Don’t sign yourself up for a life of me taking from you, because damn it, Eva, I’m tempted to take you up on it.”
“Do. Please do.” She said, desperation tugging at her.
“No. Because you want love. You deserve love and I can’t.” The words sounded broken, torn from him.
“I don’t love Bastian, so what difference does it make?”
“Every difference. He wants you. I don’t.”
She looked at him, at his cold, dark eyes. And she knew he was lying. She also knew she couldn’t drag the truth from him. This man, the love of her life. The man who had been a virgin at twenty-nine because he had chosen loyalty, strength, over any physical desire. And she knew he wouldn’t break now.
“But I love you,” she said. “And I don’t love him.”
Mak barely moved when she said the words, but she could tell they’d hit him. Hard. “All the more reason for me to walk away.”
He turned. “Don’t walk too far,” she said. He looked back at her. “Aren’t you doing security for my wedding?”
She watched a muscle in his jaw tick. “That’s right. I’ll see you then.”
He turned away, cold as ice, composed as ever.
And every piece of her heart shattered, raining down like ash as it settled in her stomach. Nausea pervaded her body. She put a hand to her stomach, trying to fight the urge to vomit.
She looked down at the black silk tie, still in her hand. She felt as though she’d been left holding the glass slipper. Except she knew who it belonged to. She knew her perfect fit.
She walked over to the expansive grass lawn around the circular drive. She sat down, letting her dress fan out around her, and pressed the tie to her chest. Moisture seeped from the grass through her dress. She didn’t care.
“Princess Evangelina?” One of the security guards approached her. “Are you all right?”
“I just need to think,” she said. “Just a minute.”
Do it for you.
Suddenly reality crashed in. She’d been unhappy for a long time, and she’d fought her fate like a rebellious teenager. By acting out, by causing a scene. And never once had she stood before her father and told him what she wanted from life. Never once taken a stand.
Because she’d been afraid. Afraid to take a definitive stance. To say what she really wanted for fear of it being rejected. For fear of having herself rejected, really and truly.
“Well, it’s sort of do or die now,” she said.
She stood and brushed herself off. This gown didn’t have a hope of being salvaged, not after all the action it had seen tonight. The thought brought an ache to her chest and a sad smile to her lips.
Too bad she hadn’t done it sooner. Too bad she hadn’t grown up a bit sooner.
She turned to look at the place Mak had last stood. Empty now.
“I’ll do it for me,” she said, not caring that the security guard probably thought she was losing it. Maybe she was, but it felt a whole lot more like she was finally getting it. “Thank you, Mak.”
She headed back into the palace, a sense of triumph coming to help ease some of the ache in her body. Right now, she wouldn’t think about what she’d lost. Later—she would grieve for it later.
Because right now she had to go and talk to her father.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THERE was no happiness in the bottom of a bottle of alcohol. Mak knew that for a fact. He also knew there was nothing more than a hole in his chest where his heart should be. Eva had his heart.
He paced the length of his hotel room. He’d gotten a room in town, for the quietness. For a chance to think. He was still tied to this place. To this job.
To Eva. Honor, seeing his commitments through, that was just a thin veil. A facade to give him an excuse to stay where Eva was. To avoid leaving the country, making the ties feel severed permanently.
He walked to the mirror, braced his hands on the edges of the vanity. He looked at his reflection, and he hated the man he saw. “Coward,” he said. “You are a coward.”