Page 106 of Unapologetic Love Story

Pepper had demanded photographic evidence, via the group chat, of what they were planning to wear.

‘Don’t tell me we’re going to match,’ Raina said, with a glower. ‘Those days are over.’

‘No,’ Pepper relented. ‘These are some of Mum’s old line. They should fit, I checked.’

Tom was in the back of Seb’s Porsche, wincing at the lack of legroom. They hadn’t left on schedule. Ottie had been ready on time. Tom had been ready on time. But Seb had tried on multiple jackets and then decided he needed to change his shirt, too. They were halfway out of the driveway when he jerked the handbrake on and declared that his tie wasn’t right.

Tom noted that his friend was particularly nutty tonight, but didn’t question it. If Seb wanted to honour the unoriginal theme with meticulous need, so be it. He was also aware of Ottie sitting very still. Very quiet.

‘You all right, Ottie?’ he asked, while Seb went to change for the final time.

‘Oh, fine,’ she said smoothly. ‘You have some very interesting stuff in your flat.’

Tom frowned. ‘What?’

‘What’s that board in your room?’

Tom blinked twice in rapid succession. ‘When were you in my room?’

‘When we came over with the invite. I just peeked in for a second. Curiosity. What’s the board?’

Tom bit back the reply he wanted to give. The one stating it was none of Ottie’s business what was on that board. ‘It’s for work.’

‘For your story?’

‘No, just ideas. It’s just a place to stuff notes and facts and observations, so they don’t clam up my brain.’

‘Oh. You’re still writing your book though?’

‘Yes. The board just collates all the information I have and then I look for connections. It doesn’t make sense right now, but it will.’

‘I just like seeing your process,’ she said, turning around in the passenger seat to smile serenely at him.

‘Yeah, well.’ Tom couldn’t ignore the hint of violation he was feeling. ‘It’s pretty private, Ottie.’

‘Oh, who am I going to tell?’

Tom was about to tell her what he’d said to Ben and Tori earlier that day. That he wouldn’t be including Raina in his book. He’d made up his mind on the night of her birthday. Even if his notes were positive, even if his future work might mention her incredible influence, she was no longer his subject. She was the person he wanted to take on life with. He was in love with her. In a way that was made of stone. He was about to say so when the car door was yanked open and Seb collapsed into the driving seat, the whole Porsche rocking as he did. ‘Right. I’m good. Let’s go.’

‘At last,’ muttered Tom.

The drive seemed shorter than the wait time for Seb to finally be ready. As they reached Pepper’s family home, Tom could only roll the window down and gape. Their invitations were checked at the gated entrance before the car was permitted to drive up to the main house. It looked like something from a murder mystery adaptation and posed an intimidating figure, standing in isolation.

As the car nipped up the drive, Tom felt a sudden nettle sting of foreboding.

Plenty of guests were already mingling in the house upon arrival. There were staff milling about in uniform and people asking for charitable donations. Tom split from his friends, who’d spotted some fellow reality television stars. From a glance, Tom could see no shortage of familiar faces. A couple of young politicians, from a party Tom would never vote for, were at the bar with their aides. A few faces he’d seen at publishing house roof parties were there, too. Pepper’s contemporaries, young women who were trying to keep their follower count and financial worth in the same figures. Reality television stars with teeth that were so luminescent Tom expected them to light up the dark. Oligarchs, heiresses, the occasional assistant who’d been roped in to whisper over their employer’s shoulder. Trophy partners looking bored with their significant others and significantly more interested in others. Athletes who were uncomfortable in suits and even more uncomfortable now that they had to talk. Actors fresh out of RADA who knew most of the room already from their parents’ Christmas soirées or opening-night parties. Musicians, artists and someone with a large Great Dane.

Tom really wanted a drink, but the bar was surrounded by a cavalcade of people he had no interest in brushing by, let alone speaking to. He was about to go in search of Raina when he spotted a familiar face in a uniform.

‘Tom Branimir?’

‘Alistair!’

He shook hands with the waiter, whose face was as old as Tom’s, yet somehow so much more youthful. They’d gone to the same primary school and grown up two streets apart.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ laughed Alistair. ‘No, never mind. I hear all about your features. My sister sometimes emails them to me. Your mum used to post them all over the neighbourhood Facebook page. Good for you!’

‘Thanks,’ Tom murmured, feeling hot and uncomfortable. ‘I didn’t know you’d moved down here.’