Her eyes went to it as the smile left her face.
Who could that be at ten thirty at night on Christmas Eve?
Deciding it was likely Annie left something behind, but wondering why she didn’t just call, Elle moved to the door. The outside light wasn’t on therefore, as Elle made it to the door, she switched on the light and then stopped dead when, through the window at the side of the door, she saw who was on her doorstep.
She blinked slowly, hoping he’d go away, so focused on making this happen she didn’t hear Prentice’s boots on the floorboards behind her.
When her eyes opened again, he was still there.
He was looking at the door, probably thinking it would open considering the light had gone on but when it didn’t, he looked to the side and caught her eyes the instant Prentice asked from behind her, “Who is it, baby?”
Elle didn’t answer, she just held the familiar blue eyes holding hers.
“Elle?” Prentice called and he was closer, she knew it, she heard it. She also knew instantly when Prentice saw him because he bit out, “Fucking hell you have to be fucking joking.”
Then she was moved aside, Prentice twisted the locks, opened the door and immediately lifted a hand and planted it in Laurent Evangelista’s chest, shoving him back.
Laurent’s eyes never left Elle until he suddenly found himself flying back and he snapped, “What on –?”
“Get off my land,” Prentice growled, up came the hand again and he shoved Laurent back another step but this time the shove was angrier, more forceful and Laurent didn’t fly back two steps, he flew back six, arms reeling. He controlled his forced retreat, his body tightened and grew alert.
“Do not put your hand on me again,” he warned, straightening, his eyes now glued to Prentice.
“Won’t say it again, mate, get off my fucking land,” Prentice clipped.
“What’s happ… oh my Lord,” Mikey breathed from behind Elle who was standing, silent and stunned to immobility, in the door.
Laurent didn’t tear his eyes from Prentice who’d stopped, blocking the front walk and planting his fists on his hips.
“I wish to speak to Isabella,” he announced.
Elle stared at her ex-husband who she hadn’t seen in person in ages.
Tall, though not as tall as Prentice, very lean to the point of almost being too thin, he carried it off and made it attractively lanky due to broad shoulders and consistent workouts through playing tennis and polo that did not bulk out his body but nevertheless kept it fit and athletic. Dark blond hair. Deep blue eyes. Chiseled features which were almost feminine but not quite, the constant sardonic expression he wore coupled with the world-weary sophistication he emanated adding to his allure.
Women the world over thought he was unbelievably handsome.
Elle, knowing him all too well, absolutely did not.
“I’m afraid that’s no’ a Christmas wish that’ll come true, Evangelista,” Prentice returned, his voice low, vibrating and rough with anger. “Now, again, get the fuck off my land.”
Laurent glared at Prentice then his eyes shifted to Elle and she watched with surprise as he shifted his features to go soft, coaxing, a look she’d seen often however it was one she hadn’t seen in a very long time.
It was the look he’d assume in the early days of their marriage when he’d approach her about moving on from Paris to Gstaad from Gstaad to Rome from Rome to Istanbul from Istanbul to wherever. He knew she didn’t want to go to the next party, the next villa, the next yacht and, in the beginning, he’d take the time to cajole her, to try and convince her it would be fun, to remind her of all their fabulous friends who weren’t her friends but his and they were so vain and superior and surprisingly, with all their money, expensive education and travel, uninteresting that she didn’t miss even one of them when they were gone. And when he tried to coax her, he would assume that look.
In the end, he didn’t bother. He’d simply drop the tickets in her lap and tell her to get packed.
And seeing that look on his face, she knew. She knew everything.
She knew he knew she was with Prentice (he couldn’t not know with all the magazines they’d featured in). She knew he knew who Prentice was. She knew he knew she was happy. She knew he thought she couldn’t ever be happy in the wilds of Scotland with an award-winning architect and his two beautiful children, not when she could have the world laid at her feet. She knew she spent years trying to convince him she didn’t want the world laid at her feet and he’d never, not once, listened. She knew he was competitive and it was eating at him that he was bested by a man like Prentice, so much more of a man than Laurent it wasn’t funny but that was also something Laurent would never understand.
And lastly, she knew that he’d asked her father how to find her and her father had told him. In fact, it was highly likely Carver Austin sent Laurent here.
And instead of feeling beaten, tired or defeated at another indication that life just would not give her her happily ever after, she felt something else.
She felt fury.
“Isabella, darling, please, allow me to –” Laurent started, Prentice’s body shifted as if to advance but Elle spoke.
“He told you, didn’t he?” she asked, her voice so cold, icicles formed on each word and Prentice’s body shifted a different way, to look back at her while Elle felt Mikey’s hand settle on the small of her back.
But Elle’s eyes didn’t move from Laurent.
“I don’t know what you –” Laurent began but Elle let him say no more.
“My father, he told you where I was,” she declared, watched Laurent suck in a breath to deny through a lie but she went on before he could speak. “It’s Christmas Eve, tomorrow is a big day, a joyful day, there are children in this house, I’m with my family, it’s late and you show up on the doorstep knowing I hate you, knowing that seeing your face could conceivably ruin my day or even my whole Christmas and thinking that’s a perfectly all right thing to do.” Losing her composure, she leaned in and asked on a hiss, “What’s the matter with you?”
“I needed to be certain you were here. I needed –” Laurent launched into his explanation but Elle interrupted him again.
“You needed? Who cares what you needed, Laurent?” she asked then didn’t wait for him to answer. She crossed her arms on her chest and announced, “I’ll tell you who doesn’t care.” She jerked her thumb to her chest, “Me.”
Laurent winced then tried, “Isabella, my love –”
She cut him off yet again, “Go away.”
He made to take a step forward, Prentice’s body swung toward him, he stopped and said, “Isabella, I’m asking you please.”
But Elle was done.
Because in that instant, seeing Prentice blocking his way, not about to let him get to her; feeling Mikey’s hand warm on the small of her back, his body close; and staring at Laurent’s face, knowing he could be even more of a jerk when he was already a world-class jerk, it came to her.
She was living her happily ever after.
It just came with some trolls along the way.
Therefore, impatiently, as if he was simply an annoying nuisance (which he was), she ordered on a sigh, “Go away and stay away.” She shook her head and went on, “Honestly, I never want to see you again. Not ever.” She began to turn to walk into the house but thought of something else so she turned back. “And, if you speak to my father, tell him the same thing. He does not exist in my world, not anymore and not ever again.”