Hard to Please Page 3

  Sounded like a Nadia problem. Eva was perfectly content to sleep in a closet with her girlfriend if they must.

  “If I may say, Ms. Warren…” David was a pro at interrupting Eva’s fantastical thoughts. Because why not? Why should she have those luscious memories of making love to her dearest Nadia? The very ones that helped her forget her hangover? Couldn’t have that, now could she! “I do think this may be an important person, but it’s not the one you’re thinking…”

  David was too wordy. By the time they started coming out of his mouth, the door to Eva’s office flew open.

  He was right! This was not who Eva wanted to see.

  At all.

  “My goodness!” Isabella Warren, the biggest thorn to ever stab herself into Eva’s side, barged in with absolutely no sense of decorum. She probably thought she owned the place. Much like she still thought she owned her only daughter’s body and soul. “You’d never guess I was your mother from how I’m treated around here! Do you know how long I was waiting for you out there? Ten minutes. This little fop here told me he had something important to tell you first. Well? Has he told you? Because I’m tired of waiting. There’s nothing so important for him to tell you that I have to be kept out for so long!”

  Eva pulled against her eyes, skin stretching from eyelids to ears. She couldn’t see a damn thing through the blurry slits she created, but she already knew what her mother was wearing. Something tacky and green. Gobs of jewelry she had personally handmade, sometimes with family gems she sequestered and Eva had to hurry to write-off from the company ledger. The more Isabella did it, the harder it was to get away with when the auditors came knocking.

  But that wasn’t touching the greatest nuisance in the room. No, it wasn’t Isabella herself. It was the giant knot of nauseating anxiety rolling in Eva’s stomach when she remembered everything her mother ever did to ruin lives.

  She was almost responsible for Nadia and Eva splitting up that past Christmas. Since then, Nadia had been more on edge than usual. For every reason they explored, whether it be staying together or separating, Isabella played the biggest role. Sometimes, Eva wondered if her mother’s own death would be the only way to bring peace back to her whole family.

  Nah. Isabella would find a way to destroy them from beyond the grave. Her ego wouldn’t allow any less.

  “I had no idea you were here.” Eva didn’t bother to get up to greet the woman she had been avoiding since Christmas. “Yes everything David had to tell me was quite important to the business. You know, one of our family’s biggest enterprises? That I’m now in charge of?”

  Isabella gave a hearty sniff. “Do you think I’m stupid? Of course I know what you’re doing here. Why your brother thinks you were ready for it, though, I have no idea.”

  Eva wasn’t taking the bait. Her mother always fished for a fight, whether it was by attacking Eva’s appearance, sexuality, or intelligence. Those all go together, you know. I’m stupid because I won’t “correct” my appearance or sexuality. My sexuality makes me style myself in the ugliest way possible, according to her, and means I spend more time thinking like a man than studying. Oh, and my appearance means no man wants to marry me, and no business associate takes me seriously. What if Isabella found out they wouldn’t take her any more seriously if she grew out her hair and wore dresses? What if, Mother?

  “I’m guessing this must be important as well.” Eva didn’t know if she still had a headache or not. Something throbbed between the ears, yes, but that could’ve been her brain preparing to melt from the inane depravity dancing before her. “Not that I had any idea you were back in town. I thought you were staying in Montana for the spring season?”

  “I came back for Francesca Blake’s garden party. You know I can’t say no to the biggest one of the year.” Isabella waved off any further explanation. “Also taking care of a bit of legal work. That’s what I need to talk to you about.”

  She helped herself to one of the chairs by Eva’s desk. You’ve gotta be kidding me. If Eva ever needed another drink, it was now. A lite beer wasn’t gonna cut it. Could she go back in time and get one of those shots? Tequila was the only thing that could numb this pain.

  “Excuse you,” Isabella growled in David’s direction. He shared a look with Eva and left the office as if nobody had asked him to depart.

  “What’s this about legalities?” Eva asked with a shake of her bottled water. “Are you selling another property? Which one? The one in Nice?” The family almost never visited the French Mediterranean anymore. What used to be a cheaper alternative to Monaco had since become a forgotten memory when Gerald Warren cut himself off from gambling and Isabella decided the French aristocracy was “too snobbish” for her tastes. If my mom says you’re a snob, my God, you must be Snob Incarnate. “Don’t tell me it’s the Caribbean island. I daresay Henry would buy that from you if you really needed to offload the taxes.”

  “No, no! Your father and I are updating our wills. This is a matter of your inheritance, Evangeline. I assume you still care about that, yes?” She didn’t wait for her daughter to answer. “Of course you do. You’re making nowhere near as much money doing this job as you were leeching from your trust funds.”

  I haven’t had a trust fund to leech from since I turned twenty-five. She had another one due at thirty-five, but after that, poor Eva was on her own on the financial front. Outside of what she might get from her inheritance, however.

  “Of course I care. I had assumed, though, that Henry and his family are getting the lion’s share.” Why wouldn’t they? Henry was the oldest, and the only son. He not only bailed their parents out of financial ruin several years ago, but took over every portfolio, and was technically Eva’s boss at Warren Stones. His wife was no hausfrau, either, commanding her own multimillion-dollar business while begetting the first in the next line of little Warrens. I’d rather change my niece’s diaper than deal with my mother’s diarrhea of the mouth, though. Sometimes, Eva couldn’t believe that her mother had ever been a baby. Was there truly a time when Isabella Warren, née Quintin, had been little and innocent enough to shit her cloth diapers? Did a nanny really clean her up, all while calling her “The littlest, sweetest lady in America?” Eva didn’t believe it. Her mother was such a witch that it was too improbable.

  “Of course your brother gets his share, although he’s been an almost bigger disappointment than you.” Yes, yes, Isabella hated her son’s wife and thought her granddaughter doomed from birth. Oftentimes, Eva couldn’t decide if her mother was more upset that Henry wouldn’t divorce his wife, or that they weren’t having more children. “He’s pulled his weight and has proven himself competent with money and estates, at least. He’s also secured himself a legitimate heir.” The words, “If you call her that,” were almost audible on Isabella’s lips. “What in the world have you done to secure your inheritance, Evangeline?”

  What is there left of one? You dumbasses lost almost all of your money to Father’s debts. “Oh, I don’t know. Graduated business school? Taken over one of our companies? For God’s sake, Mother, I’m only in my twenties. What do you want from me?”

  Isabella crossed her legs and twirled the curled ends of her dyed hair around her finger. “You know what I want from you. I think I’ve made that quite clear these past few years.”

  Good thing Eva’s hangover precluded her from turning any paler than she already was. I wouldn’t want to give her the satisfaction. She did, however, have to mind her expression and body language. Isabella was a keen reader of both and, unfortunately, she knew her daughter so well that she saw every little tic and face of fright that could make a woman fall into a pit of despair before her own mother. Isabella knew of two very good ways to get straight into her daughter’s deepest, darkest fears.

  Try to hurt Nadia…

  …and try to force a husband on me.

  Luckily for Eva, it was 2019 and not 1519. Her mother couldn’t force her to do a damn thing. She couldn’t take money away, since Eva had enough personal investments and income now that she could take care of herself. Maybe she wouldn’t live the same life of luxury, but she wasn’t about to starve to death or lack a roof over her head. Hell, she’d keep quite the sizable roof over her head and Nadia’s stomach full for the rest of their lives.

  That didn’t mean the illogical side of her refused to win out, though.

  Since Eva could remember, her mother had treated the only Warren girl as a bartering chip for money and status. It all began when Eva was born a girl, wasn’t it? She was meant to be the spare heir in case anything happened to her much older brother Henry. When Henry proved hale and healthy, however, attentions turned to marrying Eva off to the best possible family. No, not the ones who had her best interests in mind. The ones Isabella liked the best, or at least wished to be seen with, never mind make money from the arrangement! Everything she taught her daughter in her earliest, most formidable years, was meant to train her to be the pretty, delicate heiress every man of marrying age would desire. Isabella had grandiose plans for a formal debut at sixteen, if not an arranged marriage from the time Evangeline reached puberty. Instead, Eva snuck out to get her long, golden locks and never looked back. Sure, Nadia laughed to see the childhood photos of Eva in ruffled white dresses and long, braided hair, but those were the most miserable years a girl like Evangeline Warren could have experienced. Even when she was seven, she knew she’d rather be dead than paraded around like a porcelain doll for men to covet and maybe one day touch.

  Did Isabella ever understand that, though? Of course not. She didn’t see people, let alone her own daughter, as an autonomous beings who did not exist for her pleasure. Eva was born to either marry a man who would be adopted into the family at Henry’s early and untimely death, or she w
as born to marry a man who would take her off Isabella’s hands. After that? Up to Eva’s husband, now wasn’t it?

  The greatest insult Evangeline Warren had ever done to her mother was dare to be a lesbian. An out lesbian. A butch lesbian who partied, dated, lived her own damned life. The partying and dating may be mostly behind her now, but by the time Nadia came into the picture, Isabella had made it clear she would never be accepting of her daughter’s “deplorable lifestyle.” She had tried paying Nadia off to go away. Had threatened her with coarse words and ghostly actions. She had disseminated false rumors disparaging Nadia’s character. For some heavenly reason, Nadia stayed by Eva’s side, which Isabella remarked as, “The tell-tale sign she only cares about your money.”

  “I’m not marrying a man, let alone one you pick out for me.”

  “Have you never heard of a marriage of convenience, Evangeline? They’re quite the handy thing, both in my day and in yours.” Isabella chose that moment to touch up her makeup. Not because it really needed help, but because it was a great way to signal to her daughter that she was a secondary thought. “Gay men do it all the time. Granted, most of them manage to stay in their walk-in closets, but not everything can be arranged perfectly.”

  “Why in the world would I marry a man for ‘convenience?’ I have my own life, and I don’t intend to insult my partner like that, either.”

  “Who cares what you do with her after that as long as you keep it discreet? God knows I don’t want any demeaning details about your bedroom life, regardless who you’re with.”

  You say that now, but I think we both know how much you really care.

  “Fine. Write me out of your will if your stipulation is that I marry a man and, God forbid, have his kids.” Only thing worse than having to marry a man, let alone have sex with one, was pregnancy and childbirth. All the more power to women who can stomach that, literally. Eva had felt pretty lucky on the gender dysphoria front, considering everything she had dealt with in her family. Babies? That would send her over the edge. “At least you’re giving me warning.”

  “I don’t think you understand, dear,” Isabella snapped. “We’re talking about cutting you out of everything. Everything. No money. No investments. No properties. I’ve had every personal item of any value of mine catalogued and appraised. I’ll be giving them to my friends before I give them to you. Maybe you’ll luck out and survive your brother as well. You’ve sucked up to him enough that he might give you more than this job. Do you want to risk it? Do you want to wait that long?”

  The phone rang on Eva’s desk. An angry red light flashed, urging her to pick up and deal with whatever emergency swung its way toward Warren Stones. It’s probably Roberts. If the call made its way to her while she was in “a meeting,” then it must be important. Fine. She needed to get rid of the baggage, though.

  “I have to take this.” Eva picked up the phone but put the poor caller on hold. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m running one of our billion-dollar businesses now. So unless you want me to…”

  “Yes, yes! I realize how ungrateful and daft you are.” Isabella stood up with a swish of her sheer, green robe. “You may refuse to listen to me now, but wait until the new will is out. You’ve got three months before your father and I make our final decisions and file the new will. Don’t come crying to me if you wake up this summer and realize you’ve been cut off from everything. Oh, and if I die before then…” She had opened the door, but turned around to say her final words. “You’ll be the #1 suspect after this conversation. I’ve recorded the whole thing!”

  Great. Paranoid bullshit. Just another day with Eva’s mother, now wasn’t it!

  She didn’t wait a beat before picking up the phone and politely greeting, “You have reached the office of Evangeline Warren, CEO of Warren Stones. How may I help you?”

  It was Roberts. Naturally, he was not happy, like everyone else in Eva’s life.

  Chapter 3

  The apartment was always quiet before Eva came home. Sometimes, she walked through the door the same time as Nadia, but more often than not, Eva was in her office until seven.

  Usually, Nadia would exchange a few texts with her girlfriend about what to do for dinner. Sometimes Nadia cooked, but more often than not she came home to discover a professional chef in her damned kitchen.

  There were no plans tonight. No chef when Nadia returned home early enough to know if one was coming. What should have been a nice jump to her weekend instead turned into her slumping before the TV and contemplating a microwave dinner to go with it.

  What would it mean if she put on her PJs and ordered a pizza? This was the kind of obnoxious building that didn’t allow delivery people up without a thorough check from reception. Sometimes, they came up with security. Other times, concierge acted as the middleman and ran the pizza up and the tip back down. These days, with online tipping, Nadia didn’t worry about concierge stealing the tip and ruining some poor pizza boy’s night. Now that she was with Eva? She could tip handsomely to make sure that pizza was at her door within twenty minutes, never mind half an hour.

  Like 100% handsomely. Or more.

  By the time Nadia flopped down on the couch with her four-cheese pizza and giant helping of ranch, she received her first text from Eva all day.

  “Do you want me to order us something for dinner?”

  “You already have.”

  “I see.”

  That was it. Nadia didn’t tell her partner what awaited her on the kitchen counter, nor did Eva ask. She also didn’t share what time she would be home, although by the time six came and went, Nadia had eaten her fill of pizza and belched into the big, cavernous room that was her living area.

  Her next text was from a friend asking if she wanted to grab brunch the next day. “Fuck, yes. I need to get out of the house this weekend.” When asked if Eva couldn’t take her somewhere, Nadia curtly replied, “I don’t rely on her for that.”

  Great. She was nice and worked up again when Eva unlocked the front door around 6:45. But Nadia was also too bloated and too gassy from dinner to say anything more than, “Hey.” So much for righteous anger that came and went with her breaking wind.

  She didn’t receive an audible greeting. Slowly, however, footsteps approached the couch. Someone who didn’t know Eva so well might assume someone else had made their way into Nadia’s home. On the contrary! That even distribution of steps suggested that the woman approaching her was tall enough to allow a full second between her steps. Those heels driving into the hardwood floors were definitely not stilettos. Eva liked her heels as much as the next heiress, but she made a point to keep a thicker heel on her shoes. Most of the time. For everyday office work, anyway.

  Then. Then. There was the lemony perfume Eva had begun wearing in the past several months. I gave that to her. I bought it in Italy when I went there for a weekend with Jasmine. Nadia never thought a rich girlfriend would be impressed with random perfume selections, regardless of how expensive they were, but Eva liked it so much she bought a larger bottle when Nadia’s gift ran out in a month.

  That lemony scent hit Nadia before she could turn her head and behold the tired face looking down at her from the back of the couch.

  Face? That’s not a face. That’s a…

  A rose. A big, red, dewy rose with the longest stem Nadia had ever seen.

  “I saw this on the way home,” Eva said. “Immediately thought of you, my lovely rose.”

  “Gag.”

  The soft petals touched Nadia’s forehead before smooshing into her nose. Yup. That was a live rose. In case Nadia couldn’t tell before, its scent now overwhelmed her in ways Eva’s perfume did not.

  “You looooove roses,” Eva teased. “Then again, maybe I should’ve bought a pink one. Would match some pretty petals of your own.”

  “Really?” Nadia sat up, crumbs falling from her T-shirt and covering the couch beneath her. “One of the first things you’ve said to me since you came home drunk last night, and it’s about my pussy? Messed up. Even for you.”

  Eva pulled away the rose. “I see you’re still a little sore about that. I’m sorry. That was immature of me.”

  “Immature. All right.” That was one way to put it. Except Eva was a bit too immature for Nadia’s sensitive tastes. When she acts like an adult, she’s amazing. When she lets her insecurities and old habits revisit her, she’s so annoying! Sometimes more than annoying.