She pulls away from Sloane without a second thought and finally looks at me with a smidge of interest.
‘Isn’t that Asher Vouvalis?’
‘Is it?’ I squeak. ‘I wouldn’t know.’
I think I’ve got her.
Emmy sidles up as close to me as she can physically get without invading the last inch of personal space I have left. ‘He doesn’t usually come to things like this, does he?’
She’s clearly probing, trying to see what I’ll reveal before she has to ask outright. Luckily for her, I’ve got extremely loose lips tonight.
‘And thank God for that.’ I pull a face and Emmy suddenly looks like Christmas has come early.
‘What do you mean?’ Emmy asks, abandoning any pretence of giving me space. She drops her voice low and is practically in my lap at this point. ‘I didn’t know you two were acquainted.’
‘We’re not,’ I say hastily. ‘I mean, we’re not anymore…’
Emmy looks like she’s about to burst. ‘Anymore?’ she purrs. ‘Does that mean—’
‘Look,’ I say quietly. Not that volume matters here. If all goes to plan, everyone will be aware of my supposed past with Asher within the next twenty-four hours. ‘I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, and you know, it’s been years so I should really be over it by now…’ I trail off and make a show of glancing around our vicinity, checking that nobodyis listening in, and then I turn back to Emmy. ‘Asher and I dated a while back.’
Emmy’s thin brows disappear into her silvery blonde hairline. ‘You did not.’ The unsaidI would’ve knownhangs between us.
‘We did. Back at university.’
She frowns and I can practically see her mind kicking into overdrive as she combs through years of memories and gossip, trying to remember if Imani Davies and Asher Vouvalis even knew each other nearly a decade ago, let alone dated. ‘Really?’ she sounds doubtful and I bite back a wince. I’m going to have to up my game.
‘You were a year or two above us,’ I remind her quickly. Not that something as small as being a few years older would have stopped Emmy from finding out. The girl is a bloodhound when it comes to gossip. ‘You’d probably already graduated by the time we got serious. And, well, we wanted to keep things low key. My father didn’t want me dating before I got my degree, and you know Asher’s father…’ I say with a shrug, hoping Georgios Vouvalis’ general reputation for being a prick will help me out here.
It seems to do the trick because, after a beat of hesitation, Emmy nods and I swallow down a sigh of relief.
‘So, what happened?’ she asks.
I allow a look of intense displeasure to spread over my face. ‘Let’s just say it didn’t end well.’
Emmy’s eyes widen and it’s obvious she’s fighting off a grin. ‘Wow.’
I hum in agreement. ‘This is the first time I’ve seen him in years. You would have thought the hurt would have died down by now but…’ I trail off again, pointedly leaving Emmy the chance to fill in the gaps with all the potential hurt Asher might have caused me.
She gives me a sympathetic pat on the arm. ‘Wounds like that never really heal,’ she says sagely.
A burst of satisfaction shoots through me. There. It’s done. Without a doubt, Emmy will have let just about everyone who’s anyone know all about my alleged past with Asher by the end of the evening.
‘You’re right,’ I say, equally serious. ‘But as long as we don’t cross paths, I’ll be fine. If you could,’ I pretend to glance around nervously, ‘if you could keep this between us? I don’t really like my business being out there and—’
‘Your secret is safe with me,’ Emmy says solemnly.
I have to hand it to the girl – she’s a phenomenal liar. I almost believe her.
‘Thank you,’ I say breathlessly. Now that Emmy has decided I’m not a useless lump of non-gossipy trash, she brings me into the fold. I spend the rest of the evening listening as she shares information about just about everyone on the scene. I’m barely paying attention as she reveals how Calliope Locke is currently being sued by no fewer than three different designers for failing to pay for outfits loaned for events or how Hugo Frillingsworth was caught in a compromising position with a waitress just two weeks before his wedding totheHelena Montswill. Sloane and I aside, everyone else ishanging onto every word, desperate for more gossip about our peers. Instead, my focus is on Asher’s table. He’s sat beside Teddy and his date, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here.
He looks up suddenly and I quickly look away, not wanting to get caught staring by Emmy. We can’t really keep up the whole ‘we hate each other’ lie if she catches us grinning at each other across the room every five minutes, can we?
I manage to refocus on Emmy, Sloane and the rest of the table for less than two minutes before I find my attention waning. There are only so many times I can hear Emmy say, ‘Well,Iheard…’ before my brain short-circuits. I glance back over in Asher’s direction and discover, with a jolt that hits straight in my heart, that he’s not at the table anymore.
I scan the room in a panic, and I’m not sure what to make of the fact that I can already pick Asher out in a sea of faces with ease. He’s leaning against the bar, waiting to be served.
I’m scraping my chair back and pushing myself away from the table before I even have the chance to properly think about what I’m doing.
