RAFE
Ican’t take my eyes off Diana. It feels like a miracle to be sharing space with her again, but I try my damnedest not to make it obvious.
Thankfully, Lizzie seems preoccupied with the Hawkston boy and has barely looked at me since I came home.
We’ve arrived at the venue, a hideous concrete monolith on the Southbank, and Lizzie’s vanished into the auditorium with Charlie, leaving Diana and me alone again.
“I got you something,” I say, handing her the package I’ve been touting around like treasure.
“For me?” Her cheeks turn rosy as she takes it from me. “Can I open it?”
“You should,” I say, and she tears at the paper, revealing the book inside. A special edition of Taming the Beast, personalised and signed for her by Abigail Enwright.
Diana gasps as the gold foiling comes into view, staring up at me.
“This is… wow. I’ve never seen one like this.
” She turns it over, examining the back cover and then the spine, flicking it open to see the art on the end papers.
“It’s even more beautiful than the copy I used to have.
” She clutches it to her chest. “Where did you get it?”
“I commissioned it.”
Her brown eyes go wide. “How many copies are there like this?”
“Just one.”
She draws in a sharp breath, tracing her finger over the gold on the foiling. “Thank you,” she whispers. “It’s beautiful.”
So are you. “You’re welcome.”
She traces the foiling again, then her gaze whips up to mine, eyes twinkling. “Did you read it?”
“Not this copy. But another, yes.”
She edges towards me, eager. “All of it?”
“Every page.”
“And what did you think of my favourite part? Where they finally kiss?” She touches her fingertips to her lips, looking suddenly shy and tentative, and it strikes me that if I said anything to criticise it, I could break her heart.
“I loved it. It made me think of you.”
She drops her hand and opens her mouth to speak, but—
“Diana Marchetti, you look exquisite.” A smooth British accent interrupts us, and I turn to see a man I recognise as Seb Hawkston.
Diana smiles warmly at him, drawing him into a hug with one arm looped around his neck while keeping the book clutched against her chest with the other.
I feel an uncomfortable pang of something watching the two of them.
“Is that one of Erica’s dresses?” Seb asks, pulling back to take in Diana’s outfit, which is a knee length yellow satin dress that’s like summer being dragged backwards into fall by the leather detailing at the collar and over the skirt.
The way his gaze trips up and down her body is a knife dragging up and down my spine.
“Of course. Is she here?” Diana asks.
“She came in the stage door.” He gestures towards the main entrance, where people are gathering before the doors officially open. “Too busy out there.”
Diana does a quick introduction, referring to me as Mr Bastion, like I’m nothing but her friend’s father, and Seb takes my hand in a firm grip.
I search his face to see if there’s any hint that he knows what I am to Diana.
She didn’t talk about him much, but I don’t know how much she speaks to him or what she might have told him.
I never got the sense there was any animosity between them, and it only now occurs to me that they might have some kind of friendship.
His expression is open and friendly; there’s nothing to suggest he has any clue that Diana and I have ever had any inappropriate relations, and I can’t determine if I’m relieved or disappointed.
“What’s that?” Seb says, indicating the book she’s holding.
She smiles, offering it to him. “It’s a special edition of Taming the Beast. Have you ever seen a more beautiful book? Mr Bastion gave it to me.”
Seb turns to include me, a wry eyebrow rising.
“Oh, did he?” And there it is. That’s the look I was expecting to see, and a low satisfaction squirms in my gut.
That’s right. She’s mine now. Not yours.
“Now I feel bad,” Seb says to Diana, pressing a hand to his heart with a flourish. “I didn’t get you anything.”
She laughs, her smile all comfort and ease. “That’s okay. It’s not like we’re getting married or anything.”
Seb’s laughter joins hers, and although he’s perfectly pleasant, I want to smack him in the face.
“Diana,” Melanie calls, striding towards us with purpose, snapping her fingers and pointing further into the venue. “Quick. You need to be backstage. The cast are here.”
“Thoughtful gift,” Seb says when she’s gone, one side of his mouth curling into a smirk.
A single dimple appears on one cheek, and begrudgingly, I have to admit he’s a very good-looking man.
If I’d encountered him up close before, the idea of him nearly marrying Diana would have driven me to distraction.
“I can’t believe you didn’t want to marry her,” I say.
His eyes widen, and the hint of a smile, which seems to be an ever-present feature on his face, is all too evident as it breaks free to let me know he understands everything and is very amused.
“Ah, there’s only ever been one woman for me.
But Diana’s a catch, that’s for sure. Be good to her.
” He slaps his hand on my upper arm and draws in close, lowering his voice to add, “Or I will make you regret it.”
I’m nervous, sitting in the front row watching Diana. I’m nervous for her. I know she’s done this so many times, but I’ve never seen it. I’ve never been in the audience to witness her demeanour in front of hundreds of people. The tiered seats are packed, and the venue is full.
It quickly becomes apparent that my nerves are redundant. Diana oozes confidence when she takes the stage, smiling as she’s greeted by applause and squeals as loud as any that greet the cast members of the upcoming movie and the author herself.
Diana graciously introduces them all, interspersing serious discussion with banter and jokes that have me laughing and swelling with pride.
She’s so professional, so engaging, that I couldn’t care less that she’s surrounded by A-list celebrities who are so good-looking they look like they’ve dropped in from another planet, because in my eyes, Diana outshines them all.
I barely even glance at Erica Lefroy or her co-stars.
Diana questions them sensitively, encouraging the author, a white-haired woman who looks to be in her sixties and at first seemed rather shy, to talk enthusiastically about her book.
Diana has the entire audience, including me, in stitches, whilst also maintaining a level of respect, bordering on adoration, for the author and her creation.
On her lap, Diana holds the special edition book I gave her, stroking the cover and proudly showing it to the cast, the author, and the audience.
“A very special present, from a very special man,” she says suggestively, and everyone laughs.
Beside me, Lizzie grins and elbows me, and a pang of guilt interrupts the moment.
Lizzie thinks the joke is merely that; a joke for the benefit of the audience.
If she knew there had ever been more to it, she’d probably never forgive me.
But I soon forget my worries, entranced by Diana.
So much so that I don’t notice the disturbance behind me or the audience response that ripples down the tiered seating until Lizzie grabs my arm, her fingers digging in, directing my attention to a grey-haired man making his way towards the stage.
Shit. It’s Mr Marchetti. Diana’s father.
What the hell is he doing here?
Behind him is a blonde haired girl so similar in appearance to Diana that I have to look twice just to check it’s not her. It must be her sister.
It’s not until Mr Marchetti approaches the first block that forms the steps that rise to the stage that I understand he intends to ruin the whole thing.
The discussion has stopped, all attention turned towards him. Melanie, off to one side of the stage, is gesturing wildly with her arms, probably summoning security from somewhere out of sight. But it’s going to be too late.
Lizzie gasps at my side, and I stand, closing the distance between me and Mr Marchetti in a couple of strides.
I grab his arm, shunting my body between him and the stage. “You need to leave.” I keep my voice low so no one else can hear, despite the fact that all eyes are on us.
“It would be you, wouldn’t it?” he hisses, yanking his arm free, calling over my shoulder to Diana.
“You think you’re so bloody important up there.
Is this what independence looks like to you?
” His whole body shakes as he yells the words, shoving me back with both hands. “Is this why you don’t need me?”
On his other side, the Diana lookalike tugs on his arm. “Dad, stop. Stop it. Stop. You’re ruining this for her.”
He shunts her away with unnecessary force.
“Ruining what?” he spits at the blonde, who stumbles back while he diverts his attention once more to Diana, screaming up at her as she stands on stage. “This isn’t a career! This is nothing but a vacuous fifteen-minutes of fame!”
Security make their way towards us, but they’re too slow.
I grab hold of Diana’s father, pinning his arms in place, aware that both Julian and Henry are beside me.
Together, we wrestle him away from the stage as he curses his daughter.
Diana’s on her feet, a look of horror on her face, and I know I have to get this fucking man out of the room as quickly as possible.
“Nothing you do means anything without me!” he calls.
With a final shove, we push him into a corridor backstage. He huffs and pants, looking like a furious bull.
“Who is this chump?” Henry says, tugging his jacket sleeves down and smoothing them out.
“Diana’s dad,” Julian replies.
“Did you know he’s sleeping with my daughter? Did you know?” Mr Marchetti yells, and before he can say another word, I shove him hard against the wall.