Chapter 239

Jace's POV

As the formal dinner party at the Yeager mansion wound down, Drew was eager to leave with Spencer and me, as he did every year. It was his birthday tradition: spend the afternoon dutifully dining with family and elders, then escape for his own celebration afterward.

Just as we were about to slip away from the mansion's grand foyer, Mrs. Yeager's voice cut through our escape plans. "Drew, darling, take Maeve with you tonight."

I watched Drew's expression instantly sour. "Take her where exactly?"

"Wherever you're going, she goes," Mrs. Yeager stated firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"But we're just going to..." Drew started to protest.

"That's precisely why Maeve should go with you," Mrs. Yeager interrupted, her voice carrying that particular maternal steel that brooked no argument. "I'm entrusting her to your care."

"Why me?" Drew exploded, his carefully maintained composure finally cracking. "If anyone should be responsible for her, it's Jace. He's her uncle, after all."

I shot Drew a pointed look. Classic Drew, always trying to dodge responsibility by throwing someone else under the bus - even his best friend.

"I don't care which one of you takes responsibility," Mrs. Yeager declared. "I'm leaving her in your collective care. Mrs. Harrington and I have our bridge game to finish, and I expect you to look after Maeve properly. If anything happens to her, Drew, you'll answer to me." With that final threat hanging in the air, she turned and walked away, leaving us no chance to object.

The four of us stood in awkward silence in the foyer. I noticed Maeve staring at the marble floor, her shoulders tense with discomfort. She was wearing a modest evening dress, clearly chosen to impress, but now she seemed to wish she could disappear into it.

Just as Drew was beginning to resign himself to our new babysitting duty, I spoke up. "Drew, you and Spencer head over first. I'll drive Maeve home."

Drew shot me a knowing look. After years of friendship, we could read each other's intentions clearly - he knew I was planning to get Maeve out of the picture. His frown transformed into a grin, and he playfully punched my shoulder. "Don't keep us waiting too long, man."

"Wouldn't dream of it," I replied smoothly.

After Drew and Spencer departed, I turned to Maeve. "Shall we?"

"Yes, thank you," she murmured, following me to my car.

In the vehicle, I watched Maeve nervously fidget with her bracelet. The silence stretched for a few blocks before I decided to be direct. "Do you actually like Drew?"

She startled slightly, her cheeks flushing. "He seems... nice."

"Your mother brought you tonight hoping you'd get closer to Drew, didn't she? Perhaps even start dating?"

"Yes," she admitted quietly.

"Drew isn't right for you," I stated plainly.

She looked up at me, hurt evident in her expression. "You don't think I'm good enough for him?"

"That's not it at all," I clarified, keeping my eyes on the road. "Drew simply isn't interested in someone like you."

"What type does he prefer then?"

"It doesn't matter. The point is, Drew won't reciprocate your feelings. If you want to avoid getting hurt or ending up in an embarrassing situation, I suggest you tell your mother you're not interested in him. Let her drop this matchmaking idea."

I could see tears welling in her eyes through the rearview mirror. "But I don't want to disappoint her. She's just trying to help me..."

"Relationships aren't about pleasing other people," I said firmly.

"I just want to make her happy..."

"How would you like to be famous?" I asked, changing tack.

Her surprised expression told me I'd caught her interest.

"Give up on Drew, and I'll help launch your career," I offered.

I could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she considered my proposition.

"Think about it," I said, not wanting to pressure her.

As we pulled up to the Harrington estate, she gathered her courage and asked, "Uncle Jace, you're not just saying this, are you?"

"No, I'm not," I assured her firmly.

"Then I'll tell mother I didn't feel any connection with Drew."

"Good decision," I nodded. "I'll be in touch soon. Within six months, you'll be a recognizable name. A year at most."

"Thank you, Uncle Jace."

"Time to go in."

"Drive safely, Uncle Jace."

After dropping Maeve off, I headed toward the bar where Drew and Spencer were waiting. As I drove, I began making calls, setting the wheels in motion to secure opportunities for Maeve's career.

I helped Drew stumble out of the private room at the club. Spencer was still passed out on the leather couch, but I didn't bother with him. It was our regular room anyway-he'd find his way out once he woke up.

The night air hit us as we emerged from the club's entrance, the bass still thrumming through the walls behind us. Drew could barely stand, his usual sharp wit dulled by too many drinks. I flagged down a taxi, but as I tried to help him in, he nearly collapsed.

"I'll drive you myself," I said, more out of concern than kindness. The last thing I needed was him passing out in some random taxi. Drew didn't protest-he probably couldn't have even if he wanted to. I guided him to my car, careful to keep him from falling face-first onto the pavement.

The drive to Eleanor's apartment complex was quiet except for Drew's occasional snoring. I kept glancing at him slumped in the passenger seat, wondering what had possessed him to drink so much. Then again, I knew exactly why-Eleanor had mentioned earlier that she was looking forward to seeing him tonight. Drew, being Drew, had probably tried to speed through the business dinner to get to her sooner.

When we arrived at the complex, I shook his shoulder gently. "Hey. Should I call Eleanor to come get you, or can you make it up yourself?"

Drew's eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glazed. Before he could answer, he lurched out of the car and emptied his stomach onto the curb. I stood there, amazed at how much someone his size could drink. The night air was cool against my face as I waited for him to finish, the sound of distant traffic providing an urban soundtrack to this mess of a situation.

"I'm fine... I can walk," he slurred, attempting to stand straight. "Not drunk at all..." He hiccupped, contradicting his own statement as he wobbled toward the building's entrance.

Watching him sway like a tree in a storm, I couldn't just leave him. I caught up and steadied him, guiding him through the lobby. The night security guard gave us a knowing look-he'd probably seen his fair share of similar scenes.

In the elevator, Drew started to doze off again, leaving me to ask, "Which floor?"

When he didn't respond, I sighed. "Look, maybe I should just take you back to your place. You're in no shape to see Eleanor. She'll end up having to take care of you all night."

"No..." He jerked awake at that suggestion, suddenly more alert. "Promised her... can't disappoint..." He hiccupped again, his words slurring together. "Twenty-third floor."

The elevator ride felt endless. Drew kept mumbling about promises and disappointment, while I stood there wondering how I'd ended up playing babysitter to a grown man. When we finally reached his floor, I half-carried him to the apartment number he managed to grunt out.

I'd planned to just prop him against the wall and leave, but he couldn't even stand on his own. With no other choice, I pressed the doorbell, already dreading what was coming.

The door opened, and there stood Eleanor. My breath caught involuntarily-she was wearing a form-fitting dress that seemed to dance between revelation and concealment. Her dark hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and her eyes, usually bright with mischief, darkened when they landed on me.

The joy that had initially lit up her face froze and shattered in an instant. Seeing me twice in one night was clearly not in her plans. The air between us grew thick with unspoken tension, memories of our earlier encounter at the club hanging heavy in the space between us.

I forced myself to look away from her, focusing instead on Drew's slumped form. "He wanted to see you so badly that he tried to drink Spencer under the table. Ended up drinking himself under it instead. I brought him here since he insisted."

Eleanor remained silent, her presence a magnetic force I was trying desperately to ignore.

"Let me just help him inside," I said, keeping my voice steady despite the way my heart was hammering against my ribs. "He can barely stand."

"Thank you," she replied, her voice carrying all the warmth of an arctic winter. She stepped aside to let us through.

I attempted to remove my shoes at the entrance while still supporting Drew, but it was an awkward dance of trying to maintain balance while being respectful of her home.

"Don't bother," Eleanor said, kneeling to help Drew into a pair of plush slippers that matched her own. The domestic intimacy of the matching set made something twist in my chest. "You'll be leaving right away anyway."