In an ideal world, this would be all we need to do to get the marriage called off. Just one embarrassing night at a charity event and that’s it. No more wedding. No more Imani. I’m sure that’s what she’s banking on.
I doubt things will be that easy though. Not when Georgios Vouvalis is involved.
‘Wait a second. Is this why you agreed to this stupid plan in the first place?’ Teddy asks suddenly, eyes narrowed. ‘Because you’ve still got feelings for her? Even though it’s been, what, almost ten years now?’
‘No,’ I say immediately.
Teddy is clearly unconvinced.
‘Idon’t,’ I insist. ‘If you couldn’t tell, we didn’t exactly end on a good note.’
‘Doesn’t mean you don’t still have feelings for her.’ Heshakes his head and the look on his face morphs from suspicious into sympathetic. ‘Look, Ash, I know better than anyone that love can make you do crazy things, but this scheme Dad’s got you involved in isn’t—’
‘I don’t love her,’ I say firmly. ‘And I didn’t agree to go ahead with it in some kind of misguided attempt to win her back. You know why I’m doing it. Don’t make me say it.’
‘A misguided attempt at rekindling your first love would be a better reason than the reality,’ Teddy mumbles, quietly enough for me to pretend I haven’t heard him.
‘Alright,’ he sighs heavily after a long pause, dragging a hand down his face again. ‘As much as I’d love to keep babysitting you in here, you hiding out isn’t helping things. The longer you hole up in this bathroom, the faster the gossip mill spins.’
He’s right, of course, but I still groan and mutter, ‘I was hoping if I stayed in here for long enough, everyone would just forget.’
Teddy barks out a laugh. ‘Not a chance. There are probably at least three different versions of the story floating around by now. One where she slapped you. One where you got on your knees and begged her to take you back. And probably one where you burst into tears. If not, I’m spreading that rumour once we get out there.’
‘Thanks for the brotherly support,’ I deadpan.
Teddy gives me an overdramatic wink then pushes off the door and jerks his chin towards the hall. ‘Come on. Time to face the music.’
The murmur of voices hits me the second Teddy opens the door and I do my best to drown out the whispers and wide-eyed stares as we make our way to our table. Instead, my eyes skim over sequinned dresses and tailored suits, instinctively searching for Imani.
I catch myself mid-search, irritated. The whole point of tonight was to make it seem like I can’t stand the sight of her. Yet here I am, craning my neck this way and that, desperate to know where she is, if she’s still here, and if she’s okay.
It takes me very little time to find her sitting at her table with the blonde girl from earlier, speaking a million words a minute. To be honest, even if I hadn’t been specifically seeking her out, I’m fairly certain Imani would’ve caught my attention anyway.
I meant what I said when I called her beautiful earlier. Imani is nothing short of striking on an average day, but tonight? Tonight she’s a golden beacon in a sea of dark blues, silvers and greens.
Her dress is strapless and a soft metallic gold colour that glows like starlight under the low lights without being gaudy. It’s patterned with delicate floral embroidery that catches the light when she moves, like she’s been stitched together from sunlight itself.
I drop down into my own seat, my eyes still on Imani. I find myself lingering on the way the neckline of her dress dips low enough to show off the gentle swell of her breasts, and on how the fabric of the gown hugs her curves, cinches at her waist, and skims over her hips in a way that is simply just notfair. Against her rich, warm brown skin, everything about the dress is perfection. The kind of perfection that makes it very, very hard to remember that I’m supposed to hate her.
The blonde says something that has the rest of the table gasping and shooting Imani sad, sympathetic looks, before she leans forward and wraps a protective arm around her. Imani hesitates for a fraction of a second and then leans into the embrace just enough to sell the performance, her lips pulling into a trembling smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
God, she’s good at this. I wonder if she’s ever considered acting as a potential career path. If being the only child of Malcolm Davies stops being so lucrative, I’d say she definitely has the skill for it.
The blonde suddenly looks up and sees me watching. Her eyes narrow and her expression turns tight as she leans into and mumbles something to Imani. Even from across the room, I can tell that she buys it. She believes, one hundred per cent, that Imani and I hate each other.
Imani will be pleased. Every word I spat, every ounce of venom I forced into my voice, it was all worth it.
So why do I still feel like shit?
By the time the final toast is made, everyone’s got their donations in (Teddy and I having been instructed to drop in a sizeable amount on behalf of the Vouvalis company), and the orchestra begins winding down for the night, I’m more than ready to get out of here. I hate these kinds of events on a good day, and tonight is most certainly not that.
The back of my neck aches from the weight of curious stares all night, my shirt is still damp and smells like I’ve run wild in a sweet factory, and the whispers haven’t stopped since I walked back into the room. Every time I catch someone’s gaze, which is irritatingly often, they practically snap their necks back to pretend they weren’t staring.
For the umpteenth time tonight, I tell myself that these are just the signs of a job well done. The plan couldn’t have played out better if Imani and I had written a script. Our little spat will fuel the gossip mill for weeks or, at the very least, until someone else does something wild enough to distract their attention.
My phone buzzes as I follow Teddy and his date – a doe-eyed girl called Penelope with wide eyes and a slightly agape mouth who hasn’t stopped staring at me since we returned to the table – out to the front of the building to wait for our car.
Imani
