Her middle and forefinger rubbed against her temple as she walked towards home down the dusky streets of London. Though sheād smiled for the cameras and of course complimented the event at every opportunity, the whole day had been rather tiresome if she was honest. They had been exciting at first, all those years ago when sheād first started attending grand philanthropic luncheons, but now half the time they were just a bother.
The dinner slot was so much more convenient, she wished it would be a social taboo to put such large events in the middle of the day. Unless it was tennis, golf, or some other posh sport, Evelyn didnāt see why it was necessary that an event eat up the only hours that the sun shone in England. Still, between being friends with the host and the press it gave the up and coming designer who made her dress, it wouldāve been rude of her to blow it off.
Thankfully, it was all over now, and to the best of her knowledge she had nothing planned for the rest of the evening. No dinners, no cocktails, no anything - she was free to hole up in her apartment, away from prying eyes. At least, thatās what she had thought.
As Eve rounded the corner onto her street, she noticed that the same shadowy figure that had trailed her down the last street turned with her. Sheād apparated to the nearby coffee shop instead of going straight to her apartment because she figured itād be a nice treat for her evening in. Apparently it was the wrong choice.
Rather than continue to her building, Eve stopped short, turning down an unlit alleyway instead. She only took a few steps in before she stopped, waiting for her stalker to copy her and turn down the alleyway as well.
Like clockwork he arrived right on time, nearly running into Eve as he stepped into the shadows with her.
āWhat exactly do you think youāre doing?ā Sheād wanted to ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing, but sheād rather not read āEvelyn Abbott Loses It on Innocent Reporterā on the front of Witch Weekly tomorrow morning.