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He leaned a little closer, so his words were for her ear alone. “I can say that my family would never think of including an ex of mine in an event such as this.”
She swallowed, the words sparking something she hadn’t even realised she’d felt. She was surprised by it, surprised to feel anger that she hadn’t known was inside her. “Yes,” she muttered, shifting her gaze away from him, torn between defending her family and agreeing with him. “With Ashton, it’s complicated.”
“No, it’s simple. He broke your heart.” Had he moved closer? Or had she? In the middle of a packed room, they were pressed together so she could feel his warmth through the fabric of his suit. “That should make him persona non grata.”
“His mother is my mother’s oldest friend. We grew up together, besides which, he’s one of Edward’s best friends. So while our breakup was inconvenient for everybody, it didn’t change anything except my life.” And my heart, she tacked on silently, unintentionally moving her eyes away, surveying the room. They latched to Ashton quickly enough and she felt a roll of something like nausea. She took a gulp of champagne as she looked away.
“Why did you break up?”
Her heart stammered. “Do you mind if we don’t talk about it?”
His eyes narrowed and she was reminded, for a moment, of exactly who he was. Luca Montebello was rich, powerful, famous in a lot of circles, and also her boss. He was definitely not used to being told ‘no’.
“Of course,” he dipped his head in silent agreement, contradicting h
er uncharitable thought. “So why is this woman your – what did you call it?”
“Frenemy,” she murmured with a smile.
“Right.”
“Well, let me think. Debbie’s mother used to look after Alice and me after school. Mum worked quite long hours so it was easier for Mrs Walton to pick us up and mind us. We spent a lot of time together. I adored Debbie, but as we got older we – grew apart.” Loyalty made it hard for Bronte to go into the details of Debbie’s petty obsession with things that seemed so irrelevant now. “Suffice it to say she was competitive in a way that I didn’t know how to handle. I didn’t really understand how deep it ran – I thought it was just her nature, but it went on and on and on. Everything I had, she had to have – and I was by no means spoiled or indulged. If I did well at school she would imply I’d cheated, if I wouldn’t let her copy my exam then I was a bad friend, and so on and so forth. It came to a head in college when a rumour circulated that I was pregnant, and then that I’d had an abortion.” She grimaced, the feeling of hearing that rumour still fresh in her mind. “I eventually learned that Debbie had started the rumours. That was the end of it, for me. I still had to see her, from time to time, but now we’re civil, and nothing more.”
He lifted his eyes upwards. “She sounds like a piece of work.”
Bronte frowned. “I don’t know. She was insecure and immature. I don’t want to continue judging her for some bad decisions she made as a seventeen year old. But I make it a rule to approach her with extreme caution.”
He laughed. “Wise decision.”
Perhaps his laugh attracted Ashton’s attention, or perhaps he’d been moving towards them anyway, but a moment later, the sound of his familiar voice wrenched something apart inside of Bronte’s chest.
“Bron.”
She faltered a little, paling, her eyes jerking towards the voice.
Thank God, he was alone – no blonde supermodel at his side right now.
“Ashton.” The word was a whisper. Acid burned her throat. Beside her, Luca moved in, his arm curling around Bronte’s waist, drawing her tightly to his side, moulding her against him so that when she inhaled she smelled the citrus of his cologne.
She stared at Ashton for the first time in six months, since he’d come to the flat to collect the last of his things, and her heart throbbed with remembered pain. This was the man she’d thought she would marry. Her first boyfriend, her first love, her first everything. Her hand moved across her body, her fingers brushing Luca’s for support before dropping back to her side.
Luca extended his right hand. “Luca Montebello.”
Ashton looked in Luca’s direction for the first time, frowning as though Luca was the last person he’d expected to see. “You’re Bron’s boss.”
“We’re together,” Bronte blurted out, the awkwardness obvious in the hastily offered explanation.
“You’re –,” Ashton looked from Bronte to Luca, his handsome face lined with disbelief. “As in, romantically together?”
Bronte was quivering like a leaf. Luca pulled her closer; she nodded.
“You’re not serious?”
Luca spoke, perhaps understanding how difficult it was for Bronte. “Why wouldn’t she be serious?”
The question seemed to rouse Ashton back to his usual eager-to-please self. “Oh, I just meant – I was surprised.” He took Luca’s hand and shook it.
“We’ve been keeping it low key,” Bronte managed to say.
