Asher blinks, like he’s startled by the sound, but then the corners of his mouth soften and he’s fighting back a bark of laughter of his own.
‘Oh my God,’ I say between laughs. ‘That was your big insult? My handwriting?’
‘It’s messy,’ Asher says defensively.
‘It’s perfectly legible!’
‘Just about. I’ve seen doctors with neater handwriting than that.’
‘Rude,’ I sniff.
Asher’s answering grin is the kind of grin that steals your breath away. I much prefer it to the sad look in his eyes from earlier.
‘Are you still worried we won’t be able to pull it off?’ he asks.
For a second, I completely forget what he’s talking about. I’m still dazzled by the brightness of his smile, but then I remember our plan and quickly shake some sense into myself.
‘I mean, my handwriting is pretty low down on the insult ladder if I’m being honest,’ I say. ‘But it was something. And I can work with something.’
He looks relieved and I can’t tell whether it’s because I think our plan has a chance of success, or if he’s just happy I’m not going to put him on the spot and make him insult me again.
‘Next up,’ I say, reaching for my laptop so I can pull up my calendar. ‘We need to find an event to make our debut. Somewhere with lots of witnesses. Lots of verychattywitnesses,’ I add.
Not for the first time, Asher looks like he’s very much regretting agreeing to all of this. ‘Do you have anything in mind?’
I can’t help but grin. ‘I’m sure we’ll find something.’
CHAPTER SEVENImani
‘You are going to absolutely destroy that manicure if you don’t stop.’
I freeze, caught with the corner of my thumb wedged between my teeth, and shoot Sloane a guilty grimace. She’s right, of course. If I keep this up, my nails are on course to become a swollen, bloody mess before we’ve even arrived.
‘You good?’ Sloane asks, her gaze sliding over to me. She’s sat opposite me in the car, her legs resting on the empty seat beside me to give her toes some reprieve from the silver heels she’s wearing.
‘Peachy,’ I lie. I pull my hand out of my mouth and shove it under my butt in an attempt to stop myself from chewing my fingers raw. I’ve attended countless galas over the years, but I don’t think I’ve ever been as nervous about one as I am tonight.
Sloane rolls her eyes and whacks my leg with her clutch.
‘Ow.’
‘Stop stressing,’ she says, expertly ignoring the daggers I’m currently shooting at her. ‘Everything’s going to be fine.’
‘That’s easy for you to say,’ I grumble. ‘You’re not the one who’s relying on tonight to kickstart her master plan to avoid getting bloodymarriedto a complete stranger.’
‘Well,’ Sloane says with a slight smirk, ‘he’s not acompletestranger. Not anymore. At least you know each other now.’
Technically, she’s right. Althoughknowis doing a lot of heavy lifting here. Asher and Iknoweach other the way you mightknowyour favourite celebrity in little tidbits of banal information or the kind of safe, dull facts you might learn about a sportsperson from a trading card game.
Asher Lincoln Vouvalis
28 years old; DOB 16.02.1997
Likes: rugby
Dislikes: sparkling water, and being forced to insult someone on the spot
Fun fact: received a First in International Relations at university
