Sloane doesn’t respond immediately. For a moment, I think that I’ve lost her thanks to a dodgy connection but then she shakes her head and lets out a quiet sigh. ‘Thisisa stupid plan.’
‘Yes, thank you.’ I scowl at my best friend. ‘I’ve literally just said that. You were right and I was wrong. No need to rub it in.’
‘But you’ve committed to it now,’ Sloane continues like I didn’t interrupt. ‘You can’t undo all of this. The damage is done so you may as well lean into it now. Go hard or go home. You wanted to cause enough drama so your dad has no choice but to call things off, and that’s exactly what you’re doing. As far as asinine plans go, I’d say this one is currently a roaring success.’
‘But it’s not working,’ I say, irritation creeping into my tone. Why doesn’t she get this? ‘My dad’s not budging, and neither is Asher’s father. At this point I have to wonder if I’m just delaying the inevitable and embarrassing myself for nothing every time I leave the house.’
Sloane’s expression softens slightly. If she were here rightnow, she’d be pulling me into a one-armed hug. ‘It’s not even been three months yet.’
‘Well, it feels like an eternity,’ I interject bitterly.
‘I just mean,’ she continues, ‘did you really think your dad was the type of guy to fold in less than three months? Come on, babe. You’re smarter than that.’
I wince. Her words sting slightly because she’s right again. She always is.
‘I know,’ I mutter. I finish pulling my hair into its bun. ‘I knew he wouldn’t have a change of heart so easily.’
Sloane tilts her head, waiting.
I meet her gaze. ‘I just didn’t expect this part to suck so much. I thought it would be fun. Funny, even.’ I remember that night at The Opal Vault and how I’d all but collapsed in a fit of giggles once we left the restaurant and went on our walk. That night feels a thousand years away now. ‘But it’s not. It’s humiliating.’
The words taste bitter in my mouth, but it’s the ugly truth. ‘I thought I could handle the whispers and all the comments. I thought I didn’t care what people said about me.’
‘But you do,’ Sloane says gently.
‘I do,’ I admit, swallowing hard. ‘I care way more than I thought I would. I mean, I’ve always known these people were fake, but now it’s like, I walk into a room and I feel it. Everyone looking at me like I’m pathetic. Or crazy. Or both. And you’re right, I knew he wouldn’t back down this fast. Of course I knew that. But I think some part of me hoped that maybe if I caused enough chaos, he’d snap. Call the whole thing off. Admit it was a bad idea and let me off the hook.’
I let out a laugh that comes out sounding more like a choke. ‘God, I was so naïve.’
‘You’re not naïve,’ she says, then cocks her head to the side and gives me a sheepish grin. ‘Well, you’re a little naïve, but that’s not a bad thing.’
I roll my eyes, but my lips twitch slightly. ‘I just want it to be done already. I want him to say, “Okay, I get it, you’ve made your point. This was a bad idea. I’m sorry.” I’m tired of feeling like I’m setting fire to my own reputation for absolutely no payoff.’
Sloane leans in closer to her camera. ‘Then keep going.’
I blink at her. ‘What?’
‘If it’s not working yet, that just means you haven’t pushed him hard enough. If this plan has any hope in hell of working, then he needs to see how committed you are to making whatever arrangement he has with Vouvalis a complete and utter disaster. Make him regret the day he ever entertained a meeting with Georgios Vouvalis.’
I stare at myself in the mirror. The girl looking back at me looks polished and composed. The picture-perfect heiress. But underneath it all, I’m tired. Humiliated. Angry. So very, verydone.
‘I don’t know if I have it in me,’ I admit.
‘You do,’ Sloane says bluntly, like it’s an uncontested fact. ‘Besides, it’s either that or, once I’m home next week, we start shopping for wedding dresses.’
Just the thought of that makes my stomach lurch. ‘Point taken.’
‘Good,’ Sloane nods. ‘So go to that premiere tonight and cause a scene. It’ll suck for a little while but this time next year, when you’re tanning on a beach somewhere in the Caribbeanwithouta ring on your finger, you’ll be thanking yourself. Trust me.’
I can’t help but smile a little at that. ‘St Lucia, for sure.’
Sloane matches my smile. ‘Atta girl. Now—Shit, it’s my stop.’ There’s a flurry of movement as she hops up from her seat and starts pulling her luggage out from the storage rack. ‘I’ve got to go, but you’ll be fine. I promise.’
I repeat Sloane’s words to myself like a lifeline as I finish getting dressed and make my way to the premiere. They’re the only thing keeping me sane – that and scraping the skin around my nails raw – but even her words of encouragement are sounding less and less convincing the closer I get to the theatre and the glittering mob of cameras waiting outside.
By the time my driver opens the door, my palms are slick with sweat and my breath is coming out fast. Way too fast.
I step out of the car and immediately it’s like the air has been sucked from my lungs. I freeze as every single pair of eyes in the vicinity seems to snap onto me like vultures spotting fresh roadkill.
