Easing Heimweh (Heim, #1) ✓

21: Deal

I never noticed it before, but years could fly by so fast.

"Good morning, Captain," Calista greeted as I closed the door of my limousine. "How'd it go? Was the deal good?"

I shrugged, adjusting the strap of my bag that tugged against my epaulet. "It was alright."

I'd just gotten back from a meeting with one of the companies I was looking to invest in—an aviation school for students who came from working class families. It had been a pastime of mine lately, mainly because my privacy wasn't compromised in doing it. There was a clause in my contracts that prevented the other parties from revealing any of my business to the media.

"Gosh, Eva," Calista muttered, whistling. "You've changed a lot."

I had paid no mind to Calista's comments, like usual, swatting it away like a stray fly. "You always say that," I said.

"And you always refuse to give me the deets."

"There are no deets to give." I turned to fix her uneven collar and patted her shoulder twice. "Now run along. You have a plane to fly."

"You know my schedule?"

"I made your schedule."

"What—I thought Tito did?"

A bubble of laughter escaped my lips. "Nope."

I paid no mind to Calista's comments because they were, well, true.

A lot had changed since I came back to the planes-slash-business scene. Not much time passed since I ran away and returned, but something in the air shifted. Not a lot noticed it, but I guessed it was for the best.

I made a deal with Dad. I still remembered the day we made a contract over it in vivid detail. I'd memorized every clause, really. I was to dedicate five years to my job, to do what I needed to do, then I would be free. The burden of my title, the heiress, would be passed onto my sister if I wanted to.

Truth be told, I still didn't know what it was that I really wanted. The desire to run away again after five years was strong—so much that it would sometimes invade my dreams at night. Deep inside I still wanted to choose myself, and I did. The contract was tipped in my favor. It was created in a way that I had no room to complain, no reason to defy any orders.

I vowed to be the heiress they painted me to be until the time would come when I was given the chance to put myself first. Even so, it was part of the agreement to let me take the lead without the shackles of pressure this time.

I wasn't allowed to complain.

I vowed to be the no-nonsense heiress that Alonzo Group needed, the Evadne Alonzo they painted me to be.

My phone rang in my pocket, so I excused myself to answer the call. There was only one person who'd think of talking about business matters at 8 A.M. sharp.

"Dad," I greeted.

"Tell your assistant to cancel your plans for the evening."

Right. No second to waste on pleasantries. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes in front of my workmates who'd just arrived. "Who is it this time?"

"Selena Kane. Remember her?"

I could help but raise a brow at the name. "Gods, Dad. My ex? Really?"

"She offered to be permanent business partners if any news article comes out about your date, and even better if you get married," he replied, as if that alone would make me do a 180 and come skipping at that woman's doorstep. "The Kanes are generous with us because of past successful joint projects."

"Didn't you hear me? She's my ex."

"And you don't have to buy her a wedding ring, Evadne," he shot back. "A date would suffice."

"But—"

"I will be sending a car to pick you up at 6 P.M. She reserved a table at one of their restaurants."

I scoffed. Old habits sure die hard. It was the same stunt she used to pull back then whenever she'd get the feeling that I'd be ending things with her.

"Do not be late," Dad warned before dropping the call.

I groaned internally. I wouldn't need to show up to the date to know how the events would unfold: she would start the conversation light, call the waiter to serve us wines she knew I liked, and drop the bomb that she wanted us to get back together. Typical Selena, wooing women with her grand gestures and sweet talk.

I used to fall for it everytime.

"Damn this day," I grumbled, tapping furiously on the screen. Dialing Everen's number had been another habit of mine these past few months. I couldn't risk having Elton tracked down so I never called him with this phone. My old one was tucked away safely in my room at the manor, so I only talked to him there.

"I just woke up, Ate," Everen said, her voice likely muffled by a pillow. "What do you want?"

"Advice."

"Again?"

I nodded, aware that she couldn't see me at all. "Again."

"Another date?"

"The 43rd. And you wouldn't guess who it is."

I wouldn't say Everen and I grew up close, given the 7-year age gap, but Elton never really understood my situations in the dating scene, so I often ran to Everen because she always lent me an ear. Her boy problems were far more interesting than mine, surprisingly, but I never compared us two. Conversations like this were what kept our bond, after all.

"You sound distressed." She paused for a moment, then I heard her gasp softly. "An ex. And a terrible one."

I sighed. "Selena."

"No freaking way."

"What do I do?"

"Okay." I heard shuffling sounds from the other line. I almost laughed from imagining how this news was equally shocking to my sister that she had to sit properly. "What do I always tell you when we dealt with date #1 to #42?"

"Just ditch the unworthy ones," I recalled, and she hummed in response. "That's the problem. I can't."

"What do you mean you can't? It's part of the contract to not force you to show up to personal engagements."

"And this goes beyond personal." I clicked my tongue, searching for the right words to say without making it seem like the situation had me doomed, but I failed. "Apparently she's agreeing to be a permanent business partner if I agree to the date. The media needs to see us meet."

"Oh, shit."

"Yeah. Shit."

"Just...20 minutes should suffice," she said. "You know her routine. Don't let it get to the wine part."

Deep breaths. I took some much-needed deep breaths. "Right. Never reach the wine part. Got it." Pause. "I'm still nervous."

"And that's okay. It's valid. You'll be dealing with an insufferable woman. But remember this."

Another set of deep breaths. "Hm?"

"You're Evadne Alonzo."

It would be no surprise if I looked stupid from smiling right now, but I could care less. Everen was our father's reflection in a lot of ways—all of his and Mom's good traits were combined in the gifted teenager that was my sister. This was her way of giving praise. Subtle, concise, no nonsense. Truly a worthy Alonzo through and through.

"I'm Evadne Alonzo," I repeated, and the name alone eased the weight off my shoulders.

I had gotten through a storm before. I would willingly do the same thing over and over if it meant I would be saving myself in the end.