The banqueting hall at the fancy hotel was full of round tables draped in velvety white cloth. Huge, fragrant cascading floral centerpieces graced every table. Ivy, roses and hydrangeas arranged in tall crystal vases. Low-hanging chandeliers, waiters in black suits carrying silver platters of canapés, an orchestra playing classical music in the corner and . . . I was so out of my depth here. I looked at all the foreign-looking people, clad in the best clothes; shiny, happy, bejeweled.I did not fit in here and, suddenly, I felt nervous.
“Don’t worry, I feel uncomfortable here too,” I heard Ryan say next to me as we walked in, arm in arm. “We won’t stay for long.”
I turned and nodded at him. The soft light in the room was making his eyes seem even bluer tonight. Blue like those tropical lagoons. I kept looking, falling into the lagoon, trying to stop myself, but I couldn’t. It was so warm in there. So inviting. I caught myself before I went under.
“So . . .” I looked away from him. “What’s the agenda for tonight?”
“Well,” he scoured the room. “We usually stand around talking while drinking some things. There will be some kind of auction where we’ll buy more things—and we have to buy things, since there seems to be some invisible tally kept.”
“What kind of things?” I asked.
“Mmmm, things you don’t need. Things like fancy sets of golf clubs and artwork. The money will then go to some charity that no one here really cares about, and then after we’ve had our cocktails and done our chatting we’ll all go home and that will be it,” he said.
“Okay,” I said, reaching for a glass of champagne as it floated past me on a silver tray. I grabbed one for Ryan too. “So, shall we drink to it then?” I asked, as I passed it over to him. He took it and looked at me over the glass.
“What are we drinking to?” he asked.
“Mmmm,” I looked around the room. “To not going home with an unnecessary set of golf clubs.” I held the champagne glass up and he laughed. A genuine laugh. The kind that takes over your whole face. I also laughed.God, this was strange!I’d come to work for this man over a week ago, during which, for the most part, he seemed to have hated me, but today we were hugging and going to charity events and looking at each other likethis . . .
This . . .
His blue eyes melted into mine and I found myself transported. Transported to some place where time and gravity and noise and other people no longer existed. Where the entire world and all that was in it faded away until it was just us. Standing in an empty room. Standing opposite each other. Standing, but not on firm ground anymore. Floating just above the floor, being pulled together by some invisible force . . .
“Ryan!” An unwelcome voice cut through the haze we now found ourselves in.
For a moment, we didn’t move. We still wanted to hold onto the surreal world that we were a part of.
“Ryan,” the voice said again, and this time, the bubble popped.
He turned away from me and started talking to the man. A sudden, acute sense of loss stabbed me in the gut and twisted my insides into knots. It was such a physical feeling that I had to excuse myself and go to the bathroom. I needed a moment to decompress. Like deep sea divers do when they come back up to the surface. But it was too late for me, because I already had the bends. I had come to the surface too soon, and now my head was spinning.
CHAPTERSIXTY-SEVEN
Poppy
After a few minutes in the bathroom, I started to feel somewhat normal. I walked out and scanned the crowd for Ryan. It didn’t take long to find him, he was the best-looking man in the room, by a mile. He was talking to someone else this time. Two people. I looked at one of them and . . .
Short red hair. Green eyes that pierced right through you . . .OMG, I knew exactly who that was. I recognized her immediately from Emmy’s description. It was his ex, Sasha—and judging by Ryan’s body language, his stiffened shoulders, tight jaw, the way he was clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides, he did not want to be talking to her. And then, looking smug as fuck, she held her hand out and showed him a ring. She smiled and then kissed the man next to her. That had to be the cousin, the one who’d betrayed him. I stepped closer. I didn’t want to be seen, but I wanted to hear what they were saying.
“Wedding planned for next year . . . Hawaii . . . honeymoon in the Maldives . . . blah, blah, blah,” she gushed. It was highly irritating and, on Ryan’s behalf, I wanted to punch her in the face. “Alone again . . . no date . . .” I heard. It was said with a savage tone to it. “All work and no play . . .” she started saying.
And that’s when I knew what I could do to help him. I flipped my hair, thrust my head into the air and walked over to him. Improv 101, ladies and gentlemen.
“Darling,” I said in a British accent, which I don’t know why I’d chosen, but I just did. I slipped my arm around Ryan’s back and pulled him closer. “Oh God, you would think the barman would know what a Clos de Griffier Vieux Cognac is, but I guess not. Remember, like the one we drank on the Sky Deck at the Burj Khalifa last month, except they served it with those monstrous beluga caviar hors d’oeuvres in the oyster shells, because you know what they’re like in Dubai, they don’t care about silly things like them being on the endangered species list. I mean, my brother-in-law bought my sister that white tiger for her birthday, for heaven’s sake. It was quite sweet how he wrapped it in that Hermès scarf, though,” I laughed. Well, my strange character laughed. “God, that was such a lovely getaway, although I don’t think I’ll be flying first class on Etihad again, I mean their in-flight entertainment system was terrible. I definitely think we should go Emirates next time. Also, the shopping at Abu Dhabi airport wasn’t great—I mean they were selling last season’s YSL there—but, I suppose, if you want to do good airport shopping, the only place to be is Zurich. But the weather is so terrible at this time of year . . .” I was talking and drawing from the telenovela. Especially from the lines that Esmée, the gold-digging wife of Ramona González’s boss, had spoken after she’d jetted around the world having an affair with an Arab sheikh. I didn’t even know what half the stuff meant. I hadn’t been out of South Africa, let alone eaten caviar in the Burj Khalifa. But I continued, “I guess Hamad airport in Doha does have that lovely Cartier shop where you bought me that divine necklace.Oh gosh,” I turned and gasped as I looked at them, acting as if I hadn’t even seen them standing there. “Oh God,” I gushed, “how embarrassing, I didn’t even see you there. And here’s me, going on a whole pow-wow. Darling,” I turned to Ryan, “you must introduce me to these people.”
Ryan looked at me, and his eyes widened. I could tell it was taking him a bit of time to catch onto what was going on. So I jumped in and did it myself.
“Beatrice Pemberton-Buckley,” I said, extending my hand. I was almost bursting with laughter at the sheer skill with which I’d chosen that ridiculous name. But it did sound aristocratic. And that was the point.
“Uh . . . Sasha.” The redhead took my hand and shook it. “And this is my fiancé, Murray. We just got engaged.”
“Oh, how divine.” I turned her hand over in mine. “And look at that darling little diamond. Isn’t it cute?”
Sasha looked at me and her eyes widened, as if she had no idea what to say. That was the point, though. Beatrice Pemberton-Buckley was a bulldozer of upper-crustiness. “Where are you getting married?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer to that.
“Hawaii,’” she said.
“Oooh,” I winced. “Do people still go there?”
