Storm Reawakened

The Proposal

I'm a stupid idiot. Sha La La La...is that a sad violin playing in the background or just my deranged imagination? I told the man I'd have nothing to do with him and likewise, he'd have nothing to do with me.

Yet somehow, Evara's father convinced the Prince of Stoicism to marry me? I can just picture Eli Hawthorne's smug grin and enchanting midnight eyes bemused.

Now I'll have to do something I thought I'd never do in my life. Tell a beautiful man, 'nope sorry, can't marry you.' Is that something to add and cross off of a bucket list?

Groaning, I plant my head between my hands and let mocha locks tremble around my frame. I almost fainted in front of Duke Storm, barely managing to get back to Evara's room in a trance.

"He's got to agree to end things. There's no way he wants this," I muttered, chewing my supple bottom lip.

What annoys me is how torn I am. A part of me wants to go to bed with Eli Hawthorne (there's no denying it) and a part of me wants to bury him six feet under.

Blair Aven would never and could never get the chance to be in such a man's vicinity or to be engaged. But Evara Storm is someone else. The past few days have gone by in a blur, certain things in Evara's daily routine resulting in sharp memories of Evara's life—from her favourite cakes, portraits of her ancestors, and conversations with her maids to filter through in clarity. Whether the small or the big, snippets of Evara's past sting and battle with my own memories.

She's loaded, drop dead gorgeous, and has power. A holy trinity of esteem despite her currently being a social parish because of her villain tendencies.

Ellis suddenly comes into the room breathless and eager. "Um, young lady. An invitation has just arrived by the evening post. It's from Duke Hawthorne."

Grunting, I release a dramatic sigh and crack my back in a single swift movement as if I'm a zombie that's been awoken.

"Speak of the Devil." Taking the letter from her, I unseal it and quickly skim through its contents. "He wants to meet tomorrow at the Hanging Gardens of Rosalia for lunch."

"Oh, how wonderful! I'll pick out a lovely dress for the occasion!" Burst Arin, a dreamy look in her eyes that has me visibly wincing.

"Do I have to?" I whined to both maids and merely groan at their stern gazes.

Is it too late to drink till I'm drunk and hope I end up back in the real world? Or should I bash my head against a wall and pray for permanent damage?

************

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Miss Storm," Duke Hawthorne said, inclining his head to one side.

I'm literally pinching myself to prevent the blatant desire to stare at him. I have more class and decency than that, and Evara sure as hell deserves more respect then what she's gotten this far.

"I wasn't made aware of my father approaching you of such an awkward request. Please think nothing of it."

"You're declining the offer?" he asked, not bothering to cut corners.

"Yes."

"You're actually saying, no?"

"Yeah..." I trailed, stepping back from his expression containing a mild infuriation.

"Evara Storm..."

"It's Miss Storm to you."

"All right. Miss Storm. Why the sudden change? You were practically begging me just last week to call you by your first name and to accept an offer of marriage or you would entrap me into one."

Flinching, I internally reprimand Evara's psychotic flare for romance and give Hawthorne an apologetic glance. "I don't recall any of that. And you won't have to worry about me chasing you any longer. I have someone out to get me. The last thing on my mind is marriage, so I'm going to reside at one of our country estates indefinitely."

"Indefinitely?" he demanded, finally appearing ruffled.

Waving a gloved hand, I disregard the accusation lying there. "That's what I said."

"So you're just going to leave?" he asked, struggling with the words as if it's such a far fetched notion.

"And again, that's what I said."

"You explicitly told me that you would make every other woman's life a living hell. You'd torment them and make my life a ruin if I didn't accept!"

"I—I said that?" I stuttered, stunned.

Damn Evara, girl. You could have used therapy and ice cream.

"And now you want to pretend like you didn't threaten me at every waking moment?"

"That's a bit dramatic," I snapped. There's no way Evara could have managed that...and then a thought creepily trickles into my head. "You make it sound as if you'd want me dead."

Eli Hawthorne's face loses its fury, the wrath of his eyes receding to the edges as he takes in my words.

"What?"

"Did you try and kill me?"

"Excuse me? Of course not," he gritted out, offended by the suggestion.

"Then again, a murderer wouldn't admit it," I muttered.

"No Evara, I didn't try and kill you. And to prove it, I'm going to marry you and get to the bottom of this."

What the hell? Does this guy just live off of misery or something? I'm literally handing him the opportunity of a lifetime where he doesn't have to be committed out of pity.

"How about we forget any thoughts or ideas concerning marriage and I find the person behind the attempt to kill me."

Sighing, Duke Hawthorne runs a hand through his gorgeous hair as the fury simmers into a state of exasperation. "We have to get married, Evara. The day you drowned...you woke up that morning in my bed."

Excuse me? Evara slept with this stunning man and I have no recollection of it?

Sighing, a thought dawns on me in consideration of the historical landscape of the novel.

I'm going to have to accept his paltry idea of a proposal.