The Rebel's Return
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Nadine Gonzalez
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26
Prologue
“It doesn’t grant wishes, you know.”
That pearl of wisdom was rolled out in a smooth male voice with a touch of twang. Eve Martin steeled herself against its charm. Leave it to a man to point out the blatant obvious. Yes, she was staring, mesmerized, at a multitiered champagne tower, but with good reason. Eve had started her evening staring at tap water filling a chipped porcelain mug. She’d been prepping for her nightly pity tea party when bleak hopelessness gripped her. For longer than she cared to admit, she’d watched water splash over the rim of her mug and swirl noisily down the drain, like her hopes, dreams, ambitions and every well-laid plan she’d hatched since age twelve. Once she’d been on the rise, labeled an up-and-comer in her field, 30 Under 30, and all the rest. Now she was on a Slip ’N Slide into oblivion. Well, she refused, flat out refused, to go out like that.
Stubbornness beat hopelessness any night of the week. On this Thursday night, it got her out of her pajamas and out the door and into a cab on her way to town. She’d asked the driver to take her to the only address she knew, the Texas Cattleman’s Club. It wasn’t until they’d pulled up to the lively venue that she understood her mistake. All she’d wanted was to enjoy a glass of wine at the bar, a simple pleasure she’d missed all those weeks in the hospital. But from the look of things, a very fancy party was underway. Eve fidgeted in the back seat, unsure of what to do next. Her driver was no help. In his late twenties, roughly her age, he wore a baseball cap and a smirk. Arms folded, he waited for her to get out of his cab. If she asked him to take her home, she would have had paid sixty dollars cash for a round trip to nowhere. God only knew she didn’t have money to waste.
Ultimately, a third party settled the matter. A valet attendant stepped forward and opened the passenger door. Likely mistaking her for an invited party guest and eager to keep traffic flowing, he extended a hand. “Good evening, ma’am. Welcome to the Cattleman’s Club.”
With those words, she was granted access into the gilded sanctuary of Royal elite. Eve shuffled along with the others through the grand lobby to the grand ballroom. She felt lost among the chatty guests and wandered around aimlessly until she spotted the colossal champagne tower at the center of the room. She drifted toward it and watched, mesmerized, as an attendant atop a ladder poured bottle after bottle over a pyramid of long-stemmed glasses. From tap water to sparkling champagne, her night was looking up. Who knew? She might even have some fun tonight.
“It doesn’t grant wishes, you know.”
One glance at the wise guy was all it took to disprove that statement. Standing beside her in a well-cut navy suit, hands in pockets, head tilted to better catch her eye, was a tall man with dark hair, buttery brown skin, and brown eyes that outsparkled the best sparkling wines. For someone, somewhere, he was most definitely a wish come true.
From atop the ladder, the attendant raised the last bottle of champagne with a flourish. “Cheers, everyone!”
Eve did not need any more prompting than that. Suddenly very thirsty, she reached for a glass. To her horror, the entire champagne edifice came crashing down. Shattered glass turned the air around her into a glistening prism. Champagne splashed onto her cherry-red dress. Champagne dowsed her shoes, swirled around her ankles and flowed between her legs. Shocked, her own glass slipped from her hand and shattered at her feet.
While everyone around her scattered, she stood rooted in place. When would she learn? Stubbornness trumped hopelessness, but nothing was stronger than fate. Eve should have known better than to leave the safety of her bunker and tempt fate tonight. Her only wish now was to disappear.
