Naughty or Nice

by Rachael Stewart

  I’ve been trying to come to terms with both since—to come up with a plan, even.

  It’s less than three weeks to Christmas. Three weeks until the Beaumonts do what they do best and celebrate the season all cosied up at the family home. The family home Lucas was once a part of. And I want that again. More than anything.

  I pull open my office door and Clare looks up with a smile.

  ‘Do we have a new meeting scheduled with Waring Holdings yet?’

  My cheeks flush a little and I damn my inability to stay cool.

  If Clare notices, she’s ever the professional and doesn’t comment on it. A few clicks of the mouse, a scan of the screen and then she’s frowning.

  ‘I don’t see anything—should there be?’

  ‘No... I mean, yes.’

  She looks at me oddly and I shake off the madness. It’s five p.m. on Friday. If his PA was going to get in touch she would have done so by now. Is he getting cold feet? Has talk of Nate given him cause to rethink?

  Well, would you want to get back in bed with the Beaumonts after...?

  Less of the bed, Eva.

  ‘Eva?’

  My eyes focus on Clare, my brain playing catch-up with what we were saying. ‘Sorry, I expected his PA to get in touch to arrange one, but maybe he’s expecting me to initiate it.’

  It’s possible. Unlikely, but possible.

  She squints at me. ‘Would you like me to do it?’

  ‘Hmm...?’

  Even Clare’s professional mask is slipping now, at my dizzy behaviour.

  ‘Would you like me to get in touch and arrange something?’ she asks.

  Would I?

  My mobile starts to ring and I check my watch—Dad.

  Great. No guessing what he wants to talk about.

  I look back at Clare, but I’m not confused now. I’m fed up with being told what do, being controlled and manipulated into whatever action suits the Beaumonts. This venture was meant to be my chance to break away and it still is.

  ‘Yes, give Waring a call—see what you can work out.’ I look back to my watch, still flashing at me. ‘Sooner rather than later, Clare.’

  ‘On it.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I turn back into my office and swing my door closed, bracing myself for Dad.

  I take up my phone from the desk as the missed call alert appears and activate callback as I head towards the window and look out at the twinkling Christmas lights lifting the street below. They’re beautiful, innocent, a real contrast to the chaos going on in my head.

  The phone doesn’t even complete a full ring in my ear.

  ‘Evangeline.’

  Now I’m five years old. The contrast between Lucas saying my name and my father is marked. ‘Yes, Dad.’

  ‘You’ve remembered who I am, then?’

  My head nods of its own accord and a surprising smile lifts my lips. This is just how it is with my family—how it’s always been—but I feel in control now, and it’s different.

  ‘I saw you a week ago, and it’s not like we haven’t spoken.’

  ‘Yes, well... I just expected a call, you know... A status update on how things are...progressing...’

  He sounds shifty. With good reason. ‘You mean things in general or things with a certain someone?’

  ‘Your brother called—he said you were seeing him.’

  ‘In so much as it suits my business, yes.’ Okay, so that’s a lie. But it’s not like I let Dad in on my sex life anyway.

  ‘Evangeline, why would you do that? You know it’s only going to cause ructions, and God knows what his true intentions are.’

  ‘You sound like Nate.’

  ‘You should listen to him—he knows better than most.’

  ‘Really, Dad?’ I can’t stop the angry pitch of my voice. ‘And how’s that?’

  ‘You know how.’

  ‘Oh, that’s right—Lucas did a runner when their company collapsed and now he’s back to mess things up for me. Have I summed it up?’

  My father is quiet on the other end of the phone and I see no need to rescue him. If he has a sound argument—the truth, even—I’ll listen to it.

  ‘Or shall we talk about how Nate did that dodgy deal all by himself?’

  ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about—’

  ‘Don’t I?’

  But I can hear the hesitation in his voice—can sense he’s not as convinced as he’s trying to make out.

  ‘So Lucas didn’t come to you after it all kicked off and tell you what Nate had done?’

  ‘Yes, he did... But—’

  ‘But you chose not to believe him. Lucas—a man who was always solid, trustworthy, dependable. Who doted on you as a father figure and balanced out Nate’s crazy antics.’

  ‘It’s not that simple—’

  ‘Isn’t it? You said it yourself, Dad. They were yin and yang, Lucas kept Nate in check. And yet you were so quick to listen to your son, never mind that you destroyed Lucas.’

  ‘I hardly think I destroyed him. He’s hugely successful—a pillar of the business commun—’

  ‘And what does that matter when he has no one to share that success with?’

  My voice cracks and I purse my lips together, fighting back the well of emotion.

  Dad is quiet. I want him to say he’s sorry. I want him to tell Lucas he’s sorry. But there’s nothing.

  ‘Speak to Nate,’ I say, pushing him. ‘Or I will. It’s time he came clean.’

  ‘It’s in the past, Eva. Why do you want to go dragging it up now?’

  ‘Because it affects the future—you know it does. And why should Lucas be tainted by it? We should all know the truth. Mum included.’

  ‘But you know how your brother is... If we do this—’

  ‘If we do this, what? He relapses?’ I snap. ‘Christ, Dad, he needs to take responsibility for it—he needs to grow up.’

  ‘Maybe if Lucas hadn’t abandoned the company—’

  ‘Don’t, Dad. You’re still defending Nate over Lucas.’

  ‘I just want you to be careful, honey. I don’t want you hurt in some twisted attempt at revenge.’

  My laugh is scathing. ‘That’s the last thing I need to worry about.’

  ‘I’m not so sure...’

  ‘I am,’ I say, sounding more confident than I feel. ‘This is my product, my company. I will make the best decision for both and see your investment paid back in full.’

  ‘I don’t care about getting the money back. All—’

  ‘I do, Dad.’ I want to be free. ‘And I want you to speak to Nate.’

  He’s quiet again and I let the silence hang between us, pressing.

  ‘Okay,’ he says eventually. ‘I’ll try.’

  ‘Don’t just try—make him come clean. You’re his father, for Christ’s sake, he never should have lied to you in the first place.’

  ‘No... I know.’

  And there’s something in the way he says ‘I know’—guilt—that has me wanting more. I almost tell him that he should look at himself, too, to see why Nate was driven to do what he did, but I don’t dare. I hope that in talking to each other it will come out anyway, and he’ll shoulder his part in all of this.

  It’s a start, and it’s as good a time as any to cut the call before he can backtrack. ‘I have to go.’

  ‘Evangeline, wait.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Your brother gets back next week. We thought a family dinner would be nice.’

  ‘Will you speak to Nate before that?’ I ask, too eager to stop myself.

  ‘Perhaps not before, but after—when the time is right.’

  I want to ask exactly when he thinks that might be, but my dad is not a man to be pressed and I’ve already done plenty of that.

 
‘When are you thinking of for dinner?’

  ‘Friday—a kind of welcome home and pre-Christmas planning session. You know how your mother loves to plan for the festivities.’

  I smile. It’s instinctive. I love Christmas. I love my mother’s obsession with it. And I love my family, no matter how they rile me. And now I have my father’s assurance that he will talk to Nate I feel lighter, almost happy.

  ‘Sure. I’ll see you then.’

  I hang up and head to the door just as someone raps on it. ‘Yes?’

  Clare walks in, eyes wide.

  ‘What is it?’ I ask.

  ‘Erm...you’re free this weekend, right?’

  ‘Aside from some Christmas shopping I have planned, yes. Why?’

  ‘Great, that’s all I need to know.’

  Lucas strides in as he speaks. Lucas.

  ‘Thanks, Clare.’

  He’s dismissing my PA and I’m on another plane, I swear to God. My eyes rake over him, my brain disengaging over the mere sight of him. He’s wearing a dark blue suit, his white shirt tie-free and distractingly open at the collar.

  The door clicks shut. We’re alone and there’s so much I want to do with that—none of it conducive to work.

  And didn’t I just tell Dad I’m doing this for work? For work and to fix the past.

  Liar.

  ‘It’s good to see you.’

  He speaks again—not that he has much choice. I’m still struggling past the heart-shaped wedge in my throat.

  ‘Evangeline?’

  Better. So much better coming from him.

  I smile and walk back to my desk, setting down my phone and leaning my hip against its edge as I look back to him. ‘So, what’s this talk of the weekend?’

  I’m so damn curious my blood is pumping with it, excitement quick to follow.

  ‘You questioned my ethics...’

  My eyes narrow. ‘Ethics?’

  ‘You made some sweeping remark about crossing human rights lines.’

  He’s right. I did. But it was a fair—if unlikely—assumption based on the figures he presented.

  ‘I have concerns, that’s all.’

  ‘And that’s why I’m here.’

  He clears his throat and shoves one hand into the pocket of his trousers, the other through his hair—is he nervous?

  ‘I’m going to put your mind at rest.’

  He’s actually rather cute when he’s nervous...

  You’re supposed to be talking work, Eva.

  ‘How so?’

  ‘My jet’s on standby. I’m taking you to Singapore.’

  Singapore? I straighten. He can’t be serious.

  ‘I can’t just up and leave.’

  ‘Seems you can.’ He holds my eye, any trace of nervousness gone. ‘You have no plans, you can shop in Singapore if need be and Clare has cleared your Monday too.’

  ‘But—’

  I break off. There’s no reason for me to say no. In fact my body is screaming yes. With such force it’s scaring me. I am so hooked on him, so keen...

  Oh, yes, definitely scared. And excited. Say yes.

  ‘Seems to me the best way to convince you of my upstanding ethics is to show you in practice—wouldn’t you agree?’

  ‘I...’

  ‘And besides...it’ll be fun.’

  Fun. So much implied in that one word...

  ‘Okay...’ I say slowly, processing, considering...

  ‘Great, the car’s outside. We’ll swing by your place en route to the airport.’

  ‘Now?’

  His grin is unhurried, and electrifying as fuck.

  ‘Yes, now, Evangeline.’

  * * *

  I’m on my best behaviour. This is about convincing her to work with me.

  But the way she keeps looking at me...the way her face lit up when she stepped onto the jet and asked if it was mine...

  Impressing her is like a drug, I want to do it again and again and again. And, luckily for me, this trip is all about that.

  The Beaumonts have money—serious money—but they don’t have wealth like this.

  ‘Can I get you something to drink, Mr Waring?’

  I pull my attention from Eva, who’s been exploring the cabin area since we hit cruising altitude, and look to Frederick, my on-call flight attendant. Ever efficient, polite and discreet.

  ‘Please—champagne.’

  Eva’s eyes flick to me, widening.

  ‘What?’ I ask innocently.

  ‘A bit extravagant, don’t you think?’

  We’re on my private jet and champagne is what she deems ‘extravagant’?

  ‘No.’

  Her smile is provocative as much as it is coy. ‘Celebrating a bit early, aren’t you?’ she asks.

  ‘No.’

  She settles herself into a sofa, her hands reaching out to smooth along the upholstery—yes, she’s definitely impressed.

  ‘This has nothing to do with work and everything to do with a drink worthy of the company.’

  She laughs and it ripples through me, heat tightening me up like a coiled spring. ‘Some water, too, please, Frederick.’

  ‘Of course, sir.’

  He disappears, and Eva watches him go before looking back to me, her brow wrinkling. She’s serious and happy all at once—speculative, if I had to put a word on it. But she’s not wary...not like she was before.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ I ask.

  It’s almost nine in the evening and I know she’s not eaten. We’ve been together since we left her office. And I’ve loved every second.

  Something’s changed since that night at my apartment—whether it’s what I told her, or something else, she’s different. She seems relaxed—hell, I’m relaxed. It’s rubbing off on me, blurring the boundaries of this trip. Personal or business...?

  Something flares inside. Something akin to hope.

  ‘Ravenous,’ she says.

  My breath catches. Jesus.

  It’s an honest answer, perfectly platonic, but to my hyped-up body she might as well have begged me to screw her with that very sweet word. Frederick present or not.

  And, speak of the devil, he appears, champagne in hand.

  ‘Miss Beaumont.’

  He offers her a glass and she takes it with a smile.

  ‘Thank you.’

  Frederick beams back at her. Frederick my professional and extremely impassive flight attendant. Yet another person who breaks character for her and they’ve barely shared two words.

  I can’t blame him either. Eva has this look in her eyes when she’s relaxed that seems to encompass the world. They’re so bright, so caring, so captivating. And I’m hooked on them as I take my own glass.

  ‘What has Andreges prepared for dinner?’

  I barely hear as Frederick runs through the menu. I’m watching as Eva’s lips part with growing surprise and, if the colour in her cheeks is any indication, with pleasure too.

  ‘Wow,’ she says when he finishes, ‘that sounds fabulous.’

  ‘I trust it’s acceptable?’

  Frederick is asking me, of course, but I’m still looking at her.

  ‘Is it?’ I ask.

  Her smile fills the cabin, contagious as it sweeps us both. ‘Acceptable? It sounds delicious!’

  ‘Wonderful.’

  Frederick clasps his hands together, still beaming. This is the most animated I’ve ever seen him.

  ‘I will bring it through shortly.’

  He glides away and silence descends. Her eyes are off me as she frowns into her champagne, and her switch from exuberant enjoyment to quiet introspection is so rapid I struggle to keep up.

  Despite the cushioned leather I’m suddenly uncomfortable, and I shift in my seat, runn
ing a finger through my open collar. I can take a guess at what she’s thinking about, but I don’t want to go back to that. We’ve done the past. Now I want to look to the future.

  ‘I spoke to my father,’ she says, before I can think of a conversation-starter to stop her.

  I drink my champagne but barely feel its chilling progression down my throat or even taste it. The Beaumonts make me numb. It’s a defence mechanism—effective with all bar her. But I’ve come to accept that. I don’t want to be numb with her. I like how alive she makes me feel.

  ‘And...?’

  ‘I told him he needs to get the truth out of Nate and acknowledge they did wrong by you.’

  She sits straighter and brushes her free-flowing hair over one shoulder, all calm and controlled and breathtaking with it.

  ‘I also told him to back off as far as my business goes. This is my decision—they have no say in it.’

  I don’t react, keeping my face deadpan even though inside my pride in her swells. The Evangeline of our youth would never have stood up to them.

  ‘You said it just like that?’ My lip quirks as I imagine it.

  ‘Pretty much,’ she says, and the glint in her eye hits me with the blue of her sweater. I love her in blue. Hell, I love her in every colour.

  I realise she’s staring at me, waiting for a response, and I ask carefully, ‘How did they take it?’

  She drinks her champagne and shrugs. ‘Dad’s still coming to terms with Nate’s lies—he needs to hear it from him.’

  I nod. ‘And our potential working relationship?’

  She doesn’t look away. ‘I think they’re both of the opinion that you’ve got some devious plan to screw me over,’ she says. She narrows her sights on me and leans forward slowly, provocatively, ‘So, Mr Waring, do you have some wicked plan to take revenge?’

  I have a thousand wicked wants in that second, with her lips slick with champagne and pouting at me. But I sense that, for all she jokes, this is important. I can’t deny that I’ve thought about it, that there would be something just in that kind of revenge, my anger towards Nate bringing out the worst in me. But it’s not what drove me to her.

  ‘I’m a busy man, Eva. I don’t have time to exact some ill-considered revenge.’

  She cocks her head to one side, her teeth scraping over her lip as she quietly considers my words. ‘Which brings me to my other question: Why come to me at all?’