They've Painted The Story Already

Eva let out a shaky breath, fingers clenching her purse as if it could somehow protect her from what had just happened. The adrenaline still danced in her bloodstream, making her feel dizzy and oddly hollow.

"Thank you," she murmured, turning to look at Alex. She meant it. More than he probably knew.

Alex gave a short nod, eyes fixed on the road ahead. His jaw ticked, a vein in his neck twitching in rhythm with his temper. He was simmering.

Eva noticed.

"They are never going to forget," she said. She stared out the window as if trying to find a version of herself in the blurred city lights. A version that hadn't been broken. A version that hadn't been publicly crucified.

"No," Alex said, flat and final.

She sank into the leather seat, letting the exhaustion take her whole. Her back ached from tension. Her chest felt tight.

"They're never going to let me forget either," she added, eyes burning. "They've painted the story already. I'm the whore who cheated on her husband with a woman … all from one set of doctored pictures."

Alex's eyes flicked to her. "That's because you've been hiding."

"I wasn't hiding tonight, was I?"

"No," Alex agreed. "But you've been hiding for the past few years. It's time you stopped. Show them you're back. Don't shy away from them. Answer their goddamned questions, say your truth."

Eva scoffed, bitter. "They're not listening. The evidence is too damning. The narrative's been sold and bought. Hell, it's in a clearance sale bin by now."

"So rewrite it," he snapped, sharper than before. "Or you want them to drive you into the ground like they did my sister?"

The car went dead quiet.

Eva swallowed hard, the words lodging in her throat. Mary.

Mary, whose face was still etched in her memory.

Eva turned to the window, watching the city blur past. She leaned forward slightly, frowning at the unfamiliar turns.

"Wait," she said. "This isn't the way to my house."

Alex didn't look at her immediately. "It's not."

Eva narrowed her eyes. "Where are we going?"

"You cannot go there tonight."

"Why not?"

"Because the press will be waiting for you there." He said it simply, matter-of-factly.

Eva frowned, suspicion creeping into her already rattled nerves. "They don't know that's where I'm staying."

Alex turned slightly in his seat to look at her, one brow raised in that maddeningly superior way of his. "You want to bet?"

For a moment, she just stared at him, lips parted, because he was probably right. That's what scared her the most. She sighed, defeated by logic and the unpleasant truth that she couldn't outmaneuver a press that was always ten steps ahead.

"So…" she said, dragging out the word slowly, "where are you taking me?"

"I have a service apartment in Soho," he replied smoothly, already texting someone on his phone. "You'll stay there."

She folded her arms and leaned back. "I'm not sleeping with you."

Alex didn't even look up. "So you keep saying."

Eva narrowed her eyes. "Because I mean it. Just because I'll be staying with you doesn't mean I'll be sleeping with you."

That finally got his attention. He turned to her with a smirk. "Sweetheart, you won't be staying with me."

"What?"

"I have my own home," he said. "And a son who waits for me every night like clockwork. If I'm not home, the kid turns into a tiny grief counselor. Starts writing me letters about abandonment and shit."

"Oh," she said, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected image of Alex the playboy being ruled by a six year old pajama-clad dictator. "Well. Good. Then we're clear on that."

"Clear on what?" he asked, amused, as he sent off another message.

"On not sleeping with you."

He chuckled, a low, warm sound that somehow made her feel warmer and more annoyed at the same time.

"Oh no," he said, leaning in, eyes glinting. "Let's not get too comfortable. I will fuck you, again and again. I'm just telling you I'm not staying with you."

Her mouth dropped open. "You—you can't just say things like that!"

"Why not?" He leaned back smugly. "We've already done it. I'm just being honest about wanting to do it again. And again."

"God, you're insufferable."

"Tell me more while I'm undressing you in my head."

"You are such a pig," she muttered, staring out the window, trying to ignore the traitorous way her pulse had started to race.

"You liked it."

"I was having a moment of weakness," she hissed, her cheeks warming as she remembered exactly what kind of moment it had been.

"That's funny," he said thoughtfully. "Because I'm fairly certain your body wasn't weak. It took everything I gave and asked for more."

She covered her face with her hands and groaned. "I can't believe I'm in a car with you again."

"Then believe it," he said smugly. "Because if you think the last round was intense, wait till you see what I can do with you and all the time in the world."

She peeked through her fingers. "Do you flirt like this with everyone?"

"No," he said, serious all of a sudden. "Just you."

She turned away and looked out at the cityscape. "Fine. I'll stay."

"Good," he said.

*****

When they arrived at the penthouse apartment in SoHo, Eva's mouth fell open. She stood frozen in the entryway, her heels clicking softly against the polished marble floor as her eyes traveled up the double-height ceilings, the soft lighting embedded in clean architectural lines, the tall glass windows that offered a sweeping, glittering view of Manhattan at night.

"You own this place?" she asked.

Alex walked toward the minibar. "I'm sure you know who I am by now. It shouldn't come as a shock to you."

She turned toward him slowly, her brow raised. "Arrogant much?"

He smirked over his shoulder, already pouring himself a drink. "Just honest."

Eva rolled her eyes, brushing her hands down her dress. Her dinner gown had served its purpose tonight, but now she just felt… exposed. "I'll need to take a shower," she muttered, mostly to herself. "And I'll need something to sleep in."