Evelyn can't stop smiling as she rides the elevator up to her suite. She doesn't even know why; it's not as though something actually happenedbetween her and Cullen. But a woman has her instincts, does she not? Evelyn talks to countless men on any given day, some which have displayed a very blatant interest in her, but none of them were like Cullen. Not a single one. There was something about the way he looked at her... there was none of that greed and perversion that other men regarded her with. There is something about him- an innocence and awkwardness that she would have never expected to find in a hardened ex-Special Forces soldier who literally looks like a photoshopped runway model fresh out of Vogue Italia.
Distracted by her thoughts, Evelyn fumbles with her access card and scans it to unlock her suite door. She kicks off her heels as soon as she's in, cursing whoever invented the torture devices under her breath as she strips off her white (faux) leather skirt, her white halter top and black leather (once again faux) jacket. She then stumbles into the bathroom, suddenly feeling more exhausted than she'd anticipated. She washes off her makeup and brushes her teeth, studying her reflection as she does so.
I wonder how he sees me. Am I as beautiful to him as he is to me? Or am I just another star he's guarding, just going through the motions of the job and smiling and nodding politely because he's a nice guy and makes his living off of me?
A soft knock on the door rouses her from her thoughts, and she hastily spits the toothpaste from her mouth and rinses.
"Miss Trevelyan?"
Her stomach performs a spectacular somersault, and she quietly tip toes to her suite door, pressing her ear against the little crack between the door and the door frame.
"Cullen?" she asks.
"Forgive me, did I wake you?"
"No," Evelyn smiles to herself, his soft voice having a soothing affect on her. "I'd open the door, but I'm in my underwear."
"Oh." An awkward few seconds of silence ensue before he stammers "I-I just wanted to make sure you arrived at your suite and... uhh... see if you required anything else before you went to sleep."
Grinning at his stammer, she decides to crack the door open and poke her head out. She nearly gasps when she realises how close he is standing to the door, and he immediately takes a step back, his hand flying up to rub the back of his neck.
"I seem to have arrived in one piece," she smiles. He returns the smile, the tips of his ears turning bright red.
"So I see," he murmurs. She blushes when she notices his golden eyes flickering down to her exposed shoulder and collar bone before he clears his throat and quickly looks away. "All right, then. Good night, Miss Trevelyan."
"Evelyn," she corrects him for the second time this night. His smile widens, his eyes lingering on hers.
"I stand corrected," he replies. "Goodnight, Evelyn."
"Goodnight, Cullen."
She watches him as he walks to the next room further along to her right, her heart skipping when he catches her gaze once again and shoots her his signature crooked smile. She slips back into her room and shuts the door behind her. Her insides tingling, she presses her back against the door and lets out an audible sigh, staring ahead of her into the city lights beyond the gigantic balcony glass.
So, this is happening.
"Fuck," she laughs darkly to herself as she makes her way to her king size bed. She sets her phone alarm for seven in the morning and places it on the bedside table before switching off the side lamp.
Fuck, this is so happening all over again.
The next morning, Evelyn packs what little belongings she brought along for her tip to Val Royeaux in preparation for the train ride to the Frostbacks in Ferelden that afternoon. She dresses in low-key jeans and a strapless white top and slips on a pair of comfortable tan ballet flats, her feet still sore from the previous day's heels. She then proceeds to double check that she hasn't left anything behind in her room before folding the leather jacket from last night over her forearm and pulling her small designer suitcase behind her. In the elevator, she checks her reflection and adjusts her hair and clothing, knowing that Cullen will already be waiting for her in the lounge.
As the elevator doors slide open, she takes in a deep breath, the butterflies in her stomach making her feel slightly nauseated. She ignores the feeling and confidently struts to the lounges by the reception desk, and she can't help but beam when Cullen looks up at her from a magazine he was reading. His eyes widen momentarily when he sees her, and he sets aside the magazine and stands up, a smile tugging at his scarred lips.
Evelyn's eyes inadvertently sweep over him as she approaches him, taking in every detail from head to toe. He too is has decided to dress casually this morning, opting for a fitted white polo shirt with half-sleeves that really highlight his toned and muscular arms (Maker, those biceps), along with a pair of khaki trousers and brown Tod's Gommino leather driving shoes. Reflective Ray ban aviator shades hang from his undone collar.
Maker, the man puts fucking Adonis to shame.
"Good morning, Cullen," Evelyn greets him warmly, coming to a halt before him.
"Good morning, Miss—Evelyn," he quickly corrects himself with a sheepish smile. "I've already checked us out of the hotel. We have a few hours before the train is due to leave."
"Did you have breakfast yet?" she asks him.
"Not yet," he smiles.
"Good. I'm starving. Wanna have breakfast here in the hotel?"
"If you wish to, then certainly," he replies politely.
She rolls her eyes and places most of her weight on the hand leaning against her luggage.
"Why don't we forget about what I wish and consider both our wishes as individuals for a change?" she asks him wryly.
He blinks at her, clearly taken aback by her words.
"I...I suppose I can manage that," he concedes.
"Good," Evelyn repeats with a small smile. "What does Cullen-what is your surname, anyway?"
"Rutherford."
"Rutherford," Evelyn samples it on her lips. "I like it. Sounds very...regal."
He laughs darkly, reaching over to take her luggage from her and hand it to a concierge.
"I assure you, I am anything but regal," he says.
Oh, I beg to differ, Adonis.
"All right, Mr Rutherford," she grins. "Breakfast?"
"It would be my pleasure," he smiles.
The way he talks...it takes Evelyn everything she has to not sigh and bat her lashes at him right then and there.
Walking side by side, as equals, they proceed to make their way to the breakfast buffet and are led by a waitress to a table for two. It doesn't escape Evelyn's notice that every woman's eye is trained on Cullen, and some of them even had the audacity to literally gawk at him.
Smooth, ladies, Evelyn shakes her head. Très smooth.
"You're quite popular," Cullen remarks as he takes his seat across from her, his eyes gazing around the restaurant.
"Hmm?"
"Some people here can't seem to take their eyes off you," he says.
Huh? Uhh...no, buddy, it's youthey're looking at.
"Really?" she flashes her eyebrows high, following his gaze around the area. "I haven't—oh."
Phone cameras.
Those bloody phone cameras!
"Do you want me to stop them?" Cullen asks her softly when she turns back to him, looking markedly uncomfortable.
"No, I don't want to be that celebrity," she replies. "This doesn't harm anyone. Let them take pictures if it makes them happy. I knew what I was signing up for when I started this profession."
Cullen rests his chin on his interlocked fingers, his soft gaze lingering on Evelyn's face.
"That's very considerate of you," he murmurs appreciatively. "Most famous people I've heard of or encountered are far more aggressive when it relates to their privacy."
"Meh, what good would being aggressive do?" Evelyn shrugs. "I mean, yes, there is a limit that should not be crossed. If someone snapped a picture of me in my house, for example, I'd go ape shit on them and even sue them if they worked for a publication. But if I'm in public...honestly, that one picture probably makes their day. Who am I to deny them that?"
Cullen smiles warmly at her response, the corner of his eyes crinkling slightly. They sit there in silence for a few moments until Evelyn's anxiety takes the upper hand and prompts her to break it.
"Let's get some food, shall we?" she grins as she stands up to head to the buffet. Cullen follows suit and stands up, stepping back and gesturing with his arm for her to go first.
"After you," he nods politely, and Evelyn can't help but picture him in a suit of armour when he does that.
"So chivalrous," she smiles, feeling quite pleased when she sees the way his cheeks flush at her remark.
She makes her way to the buffet and picks up an empty plate, her eyes quickly scanning the food. Her stomach actually rumbles at the sight.
Whatever you do, don't pig out. Not in front of him. Not on the first time he ever sees you eat.
Painfully aware of the fact that he is right behind her, Evelyn proceeds to ladle only the foods that she would most like to have, which is proving to be difficult, seeing as she likes to sample everything at least once. She settles for the safe eggs, bacon, sausage and a croissant assortment, taking care to keep her plate light. She then returns to their table, unfolding her napkin and draping it over her thighs. Cullen soon returns with his plate, which contains more or less the same of what Evelyn settled for, except his portion is far more generous and includes a bowl of fresh fruit on the side.
"Bon appétit!" Evelyn smiles and picks up her cutlery, her mouth positively salivating by now. She only manages to get in a few mouthfuls of sausage and egg before her phone starts vibrating on the table. Seeing Varric's name on the screen, she quickly sets her cutlery down and answers the phone, dabbing at her mouth with her napkin as she does so.
"Tethras! I was wondering when you'd start hounding me!"
"Evelyn, are you still at the hotel?" his raspy voice, which is usually light and cheerful, sounds far more serious than she'd like on the other side of the phone.
"Yeah, Cullen and I just started on our breakfast," she responds, her brow furrowing as she exhanges a glance with her bodyguard. "Why?"
"Got a newspaper or tabloid magazine around?"
"Uhh...no, but I can get one from the lobby."
"You might uhh...you might want to be away from people when you see this, though."
Evelyn's eyebrows flash high up as she rises from her seat, Cullen's eyes closely studying her.
"See what, Varric?" she hisses into the phone. "You're starting to freak me out, here."
Varric lets out a heavy sigh before he responds wearily.
"Look, it's not as serious as you're probably thinking right now," he says. "In fact, it might not even bother you. I just need you to look at it and get back to me so I can know how to deal with it if you're not happy."
"Okay..." Evelyn says, feeling mildly exasperated by her manager's riddling. "I'll grab a tabloid and have a look. Talk soon."
She swiftly strides to the lobby and scans the newspaper and magazine stack. It takes her less than a second to spot a very well-known tabloid magazine, which she snatches to scan the cover. When her eyes drift to the lower right corner of the glossy cover, she gasps in horror, her fingers going limp around the magazine.
Right there, right on the cover of one of the most celebrated tabloid magazines in existence, is a picture of her and Cullen on the impromptu coffee 'date' they had the night prior. Beneath it, 'Trevelyan snags herself mysterious hunky blond!' is splashed across the cover in bright pink, demanding the attention of everyone who may happen upon the magazine, even people who are much less predisposed to reading this crap that some people call news.
Shit.
She quickly places the magazine back on the stack, deliberately placing it with the back cover facing up, and makes her way back to Cullen, trying her best to compose her expression and keep her anger under control.
"Is everything all right?" he asks as soon as he sees her.
"Yeah," she confidently feigns a smile, experienced actress that she is. "Yeah. Varric was just double checking the arrival time of our train to the Frostbacks. All good."
He nods, but Evelyn can tell he isn't convinced.
Guess I'm not as good an actress as people make me out to be.
"Uhh...that magazine you were reading earlier," she starts, busying herself with her cutlery to avoid his gaze. "Which one was it?"
"Just a sports magazine," he replies after swallowing a mouthful of sausage. She can tell from his face that he really wants to inquire after the reasoning behind her question, but he doesn't.
I can't hide this from him for long. Fuck, what if he has someone waiting for him back home? Worse, what if she's already seen this and yells her head off at him over an enraged phone call?
Fucking paparazzi! Those fuckers always ruin everything!
"Your food is getting cold."
Evelyn looks up to see Cullen appraising her closely.
"Right," she mumbles, proceeding to spear some bacon onto her fork and shoving it into her mouth. She swallows without chewing as much as she should have, having lost her appetite since the news.
She looks back up at Cullen when she hears the sound of his cutlery being set on his nearly full plate.
"Forgive me for pressing the matter, Evelyn," he begins, his eyes surveying her gravely. "But I can tell that something is wrong."
She blinks at him, uncertain of what to tell him.
What if he quits? What if all this rumour crap becomes too much for him?
She is looking at him, hard and clear, and she knows it would devastate her if he were to quit so soon, especially after building such a good rapport in the space of a few days. In fact, if she were being completely honest with herself, the rumour doesn't really bother her. She'd be lying to herself if she didn't wish that some part of it was true.
But it isn't. And as far as she can tell, it might never be.
"I...well...something is wrong," she confesses hesitantly, her eyes darting away from his intent gaze.
"What is it?" he prods her softly. "Perhaps I can help."
Her eyes flicker back to him, and she feels as though she could melt under his direct stare. She swallows to relieve her dry throat and scoots her chair closer to the table.
"It's..." she pauses, giving herself one last chance to deflect the truth with a believable lie.
Fuck it, he deserves the truth. I owe him that much, at least.
"Yes?" he encourages in the same soft manner.
She takes a deep breath and steels herself in preparation for the worst.
"It's about us."