Part 5

Davin watched her in the rearview mirror, stealing glances when he thought she wasn't looking.

Everyone in the estate knew about Carla — about how completely she had given herself over to loving Bastian. The way she'd shadowed him, clung to him, made his life difficult in the particular way that only someone desperately in love can manage. Bastian had spent years trying to manage her.

Just yesterday, she had fallen into the pool and lost consciousness. Every person in the house had assumed she was faking — fishing for sympathy, trying to pull Bastian back into her orbit. It was the kind of thing that sounded harsh to say, but after years of watching her, no one put anything past her.

And yet here she was, awake and apparently fine, choosing to go out for lunch and a film instead of planting herself in Bastian's path and refusing to move until he acknowledged her.

Carla pretended not to notice Davin's glances. She looked out the window, watching the buildings blur past, letting the city wash over her.

"I want to eat first," she said. "Then a film, then the mall."

"Yes, Miss."

The car found its way into the parking area of the restaurant she'd chosen, and Carla stepped out.

"You're not eating?" She paused, glancing back at Davin, who had remained standing beside the car.

"I'm still full, Miss," he said, declining quietly.

"Oh—" She stopped herself. The reflex had been to push — of course you'll eat, come on — but she caught it. She wasn't that person anymore. She had promised herself on this second chance that she wouldn't impose her will on everyone around her. Some things needed to be unlearned deliberately.

"Alright," she said with a small smile, and went inside.

Davin watched her disappear through the restaurant door, a small frown forming.

"What happened to her?* he thought. *Did she hit her head on the way into that pool?"

His phone buzzed.

He answered without checking who it was. "Hello?"

"Where did you take Carla?! Bring her back — now! Do you think she's old enough to be wandering around without supervision?!"

The voice on the other end hit him like cold water. He stood straight immediately, the way he always did when Bastian spoke that sharply — even over the phone. "I apologize, sir. Miss Carla is eating — I'll let her know you'd like her back once she's finished."

"You don't need to wait. Bring her home now."

"Yes, sir." He ended the call and went inside.

He found her quickly — tucked into a private booth, meant for two, which she occupied alone, working her way through her meal with an unhurried composure he'd never seen in her before.

"Miss Carla," he said, approaching. "I'm sorry to interrupt — Mr. Bastian just called. He wants me to bring you back to the estate."

"Oh." Her expression didn't shift. "I thought you came to join me."

"I'm afraid not, Miss. He was quite clear about—"

"Sit with me for a moment." She gestured to the empty chair across from her. "He called me first, by the way. I didn't answer. Several times." A small, unconcerned pause. "Sit down, Davin. I'm not interested in making trouble for my uncle anymore."

Davin stood very still and looked at her.

She sounded nothing like herself. The girl he knew would have been on her phone before the car even stopped, demanding Bastian come find her. This woman — sitting there with her meal, unhurried and calm — seemed to occupy a completely different register.