Chapter 282

Chapter 282
Evelyn's POV

I stared at my phone screen, the glow illuminating my face in the darkness of our bedroom at Blackwood Estate. The message from Hunter sat there, waiting for my response. Relief washed over me, but not the euphoria I'd expected. After everything that had happened, I felt hollow.

"Yes," I typed back simply.

His reply came immediately: "Evelyn, I miss you."

I clutched the phone to my chest, my heart hammering against my ribs. Throughout the entire ordeal with Willa tonight, I'd been terrified she might recognize me or that someone would discover my connection to Hunter. The thought of Dorian finding out made my blood run cold.

This nightmare was finally ending. I let out a deep breath and slumped against the edge of the bed, exhaustion settling into my bones. In just a few days, I could escape this gilded prison, this marriage that had never been more than a business transaction dressed up as love.

The sound of the front door opening downstairs jolted me from my thoughts. I quickly locked my phone and slid it under my pillow, feigning sleep as footsteps approached. The bedroom door opened quietly, then closed. I heard Dorian moving around cautiously in the darkness, trying not to wake me as he headed for the guest bathroom.

I waited until I heard the shower running before I opened my eyes. When he finally slipped into bed beside me, I turned toward him.

"When did you get back?" I asked, my voice deliberately groggy.

Dorian's arm snaked around my waist, pulling me against his chest. "Just now," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear.

"Did you get everything sorted out with Daniel?" I kept my tone casual, innocent.

"Yeah, it's all taken care of." His fingers traced lazy patterns on my hip.

"Is he okay?"

Dorian chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. "It was just a misunderstanding, not an actual kidnapping. Daniel's fine."

Of course. When you had money and power like the Blackwoods, you could rewrite reality. What I'd seen—a terrified college student bound and gagged—could be dismissed as a "misunderstanding" with a few phone calls to the right people.

I shuddered, pulling away slightly. "I don't want to be part of your world, Dorian. Not any of it. The next time something like this happens, please don't involve me."

His arms tightened around me. "Tonight wasn't about you, Evelyn."

"I know," I whispered, forcing myself to relax against him. "By the way, I already requested time off from Los Angeles Hope Memorial. I'll go with you to the Sunset Ridge Estates bid on the 15th."

His body tensed with surprise, then relaxed. "You remembered."

"I'll even send you the biggest, most beautiful flower arrangement to wish you luck," I added, the lie bitter on my tongue.

Dorian pressed his lips to my cheek, and I had to fight the urge to pull away. When he finally rolled over to sleep, I wiped my face twice with the back of my hand.

---

The next evening, I curled up on the sofa in our living room, pretending to watch a medical drama while Dorian paced nearby, phone pressed to his ear. The tension radiated from him in waves as he discussed last-minute details for tomorrow's project bid. This was his chance to outmaneuver his cousin Marcus and prove himself to his grandfather David.

I lowered the television volume, but Dorian shook his head.

"It's fine," he said, covering the mouthpiece. "It doesn't bother me."

When he finally ended the call, he came to sit beside me. "You haven't baked any cakes lately. Why?"

I shrugged, surprised he'd noticed. "Just been busy at the hospital."

"Make something tonight," he suggested, his fingers trailing down my arm. "I miss your baking."

With a nod, I headed to the kitchen, grateful for the excuse to be alone with my thoughts. As I gathered ingredients for cupcakes, my hands moved mechanically while my mind wandered. This was likely my last night in Blackwood Estate. I'd already packed my important documents and a few personal items, hidden in my work bag for tomorrow.

If everything went according to plan, I'd never have to return to this house, never have to share Dorian's bed again.

The cupcakes turned out terribly—flat and overly sweet—but Dorian insisted on trying one anyway.

"Jesus," he grimaced, washing it down with water. "What did you put in these?"

"Sorry," I muttered, taking the tray away. "I was distracted."

My mind had drifted to memories of baking with Hunter in Evergreen Valley. He'd eaten countless failures over the years, always with that crooked smile of his, claiming they weren't that bad even when we both knew they were awful.

"I'll make pasta instead," I offered, reaching for a pot.

Dorian came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and burying his face in my neck. "I don't care about food," he murmured, his lips brushing against my skin.

I stiffened but forced myself to relax. "Let me cook, Dorian. You need to eat something substantial before tomorrow."

He reluctantly released me, leaning against the counter to watch as I prepared a simple pasta dish. Over dinner, he talked excitedly about our future plans.

"I've booked a private room at Celestial Bites tomorrow to celebrate after we win the bid," he said between bites. "And this weekend, we should go somewhere to relax. Maybe that spa retreat you mentioned once." His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. "Oh, and I was thinking we could visit the ski resort in November, just in time to see the first snow."

I nodded and smiled, letting his words wash over me as he painted pictures of a shared future that would never exist. He'd forgotten all about Daniel, about Willa, about every time he'd hurt me. The debt between us had grown too large to ever be repaid.

Later, after showering, I slipped into bed and turned off the lamp. The darkness had barely settled when I felt Dorian's weight shift on the mattress. His hands found my waist, pulling me against his hard chest.

"Dorian," I said, my voice sharp as I bent my knees defensively. "What are you doing?"

"Just want to touch you," he whispered, his lips trailing down my neck as his hand slid under my nightgown. "Hold you."

I pushed against his chest. "Not tonight. You have a big day tomorrow. You need rest."

"I need you," he growled, his grip tightening.

"Tomorrow," I promised, forcing gentleness into my voice. "Tomorrow night, after you win. We'll celebrate properly."

He stilled, then sighed against my skin. "Fine. Tomorrow."