Stoking the Fire (Salus Security #1) - Teodora Kostova Page 0,34

Alec, which is an achievement in itself, but his shoulders seem even broader. And his face? It’s all perfect angles and mysterious shadows. I can’t look away.

Alec clears his throat. I reluctantly move my gaze away from who I assume is Felix.

Alec places a gentle finger under my chin and closes my mouth. “Do you need a tissue?” he asks, too softly for Felix to hear. “For the drool?” He swipes his thumb over the corner of my mouth. I glower at him.

“Mr. Van Dorf,” Felix says, extending a hand in my direction. “Good to finally meet you. I’m Felix Schneider. Evelyn’s security detail.” I shake the offered hand, still a little dazed by his wide, genuine smile and the sparkle in his blue eyes.

“Zach, please. My father is Mr. Van Dorf.”

Felix nods, then grins at me. “Zach.”

Alec clears his throat again.

“You all right, Alec? Something stuck in there?” I ask with a smirk.

“We should go.” He glances at Felix over his shoulder. “You good? Evie’s not ready yet?” Felix shakes his head, casting a glance at Evie’s door.

My heart squeezes at the mention of my sister. Since the accident Evie has been out a handful of times, but never to a big event like this one. Some of her old friends will surely be there; the same friends who abandoned her during her recovery.

“I’ll go check on her. Won’t be a minute.”

I knock on the door. Evie’s voice comes a second later.

“Hey,” I say, opening the door halfway. “You doing okay?”

She’s wearing a pale green gown, the elegant cut accentuating her slim frame, the skirt fanning out in twirls of sequins and chiffon. Her dark hair is pulled back, a few strands hanging loosely around her face.

“You look gorgeous, Evie,” I say with a wide smile as I step into the room. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her like this.

Her hand instinctively goes to the scar on her forehead, fingers tracing the angry, red line. “Thanks.” She fidgets, splaying her fingers on the fabric of her dress. “I don’t get why I have to go.” I hate how defeated she sounds.

“Because it’s Mom’s big event, and we need to support her,” I say, walking over to my sister and putting my hands on her shoulders. “And because it’ll be fun.” Evie looks at me with a raised eyebrow. “It will be, I promise. We’ll stick together, and everything will be fine.”

“Do you believe your own lies, Zach?”

I laugh, relieved when I see the shadows in her eyes lifting. With a heavy sigh, she reaches for the crutch propped on the couch.

“Let’s just go and get this over with.”

It isn’t fun at all. The only good thing about this evening is the open bar.

I nurse my drink of choice—a whiskey on the rocks—at the bar, Alec sitting on the stool next to me, a nearly full glass of soda in front of him.

Looking around, I can see why the event is a huge success. My mother’s elegant touch shines through every detail—from the tasteful décor, the food and drinks, to the avant-garde jazz band playing on the small stage, and the carefully selected celebrity guests.

Evie’s talking to Ava Schwartz, the editor-in-chief of Sentinel, Felix shadowing her. Face animated, she nods eagerly, then laughs at something Ava says. I’m glad at least one of us is having fun.

A group of gorgeous women dressed in designer gowns stand nearby, huddled together as they speak. I recognize Mila Fletcher and Cassie Ballard, who used to be in Evie’s circle of friends before the accident. They keep glancing at her, then turning back around to speak with their friends. I don’t like the way they’re looking at my sister. I also don’t like the way they have no problem gossiping behind her back while pointedly ignoring her all night.

As much as I want to stomp over there and tell them exactly what I think of them, I can’t make a scene at my mother’s event. Not if I want to survive the night.

“Zachary!” a voice exclaims behind me.

Alec tenses, his sharp gaze following the voice. I turn in my stool.

“Mr. Norton. Good to see you.”

Jared Norton is the CEO of Norton Publishing and has been a friend of my father’s since I can remember. They’d often argue, Mr. Norton’s views usually more centrist than my father’s, but they’d always end up smoking cigars and drinking bourbon afterwards.

“I read your article for the latest issue of Dawn, and I have to say it,