Chapter 28
28
KATE
Today’s the day. I’m meeting Adriana, Lucia, and Poppy at the Langham this afternoon to confront Jon.
Surprisingly, this past week has flown by, which I attribute to two things: I threw myself into work – even more so than usual – and I actively ignored the gaping hole in my inbox where messages from Willem would be if I hadn’t cocked things up.
I know I need to apologise – of course I do – but the moment I said goodbye to Poppy on Sunday, I had a stark realisation: I need to apologise in person. If I want things to work out with Willem, I’ll need to look him in the eye so he can see how truly sorry I am. And how much I feel for him. I’m not sure if it’s love – not yet, anyway – but whatever it is, it’s worth fighting for.
But before I can apologise to Willem with all the care and sincerity he deserves, I must say my piece to Jon and put him and his lies behind me, once and for all.
As I wait for the kettle to boil, I check my messages.
Adriana and Lucia posted to our group chat overnight, saying they missed me at dinner. They both arrived in London yesterday and had invited me to join them, but I already had plans with Margot at mine. Besides, I wasn’t really in the mood for a girls’ night out – nor for another bout of comparing notes on Jon.
Margot was her typical cheerful self over dinner – her signature spag bol – giving me her version of a pep talk. But she suddenly turned serious while we did the dishes.
‘I really wish I could be there,’ she said.
‘Only because you’re drawn to the spectacle of it all,’ I replied with a laugh. ‘You just want to watch the onslaught.’
Her eyes bored into mine, concern etched on her face. ‘It’s not that. If I could I’d go in your place and challenge the bastard to a duel – or whatever the modern equivalent is – I would.’
‘That’s sweet, Margs,’ I said, reaching for her hand and giving it a squeeze. ‘But I’ll be with the others. We’re there to support each other as much as to put Jon in the hotseat.’
‘Okay,’ she replied solemnly. ‘But if you change your mind, I’m there in a heartbeat. You’re the closest I’ll ever have to a sister – and I’m older than you. It’s my sisterly instinct wanting to protect you – with or without the use of gardening shears.’
We shared a smile at that. Then she gave me a tight hug, told me she loves me, and made me promise to send a selfie once I’m coiffed and dressed today – for posterity.
Though I suspect ‘posterity’ means she reserves the right to whip it out any time she assesses that I’m doubting myself. I can just imagine it: ‘Look at how fucking gorgeous and fierce and brave you are, Kate! Look! ’
Margot is a lot sometimes, but I love her just as fiercely as she loves me.
She left right after that, heading to Adriana’s hotel, and I tried not to be jealous that she wasn’t spending the night alone.
The kettle dings, yanking me to the present, and I make a coffee. If I weren’t so nervous, I’d eat something, but I can’t bear the thought of food. Maybe after Jon gets what’s coming to him.
Right as I’m stirring in the milk, my phone chimes. It’s probably something pithy from Margot – most likely a meme of some kick-arse woman doing something kick-arse.
But it isn’t Margot.
It’s Willem and my stomach plummets. Forget eating breakfast, I doubt I can even finish my coffee.
I swallow – hard – and summon all my courage to tap on the message.
I hope it goes well today. Thinking of you.
I expel a short sharp breath of relief. Surely he can’t hate me if he’s sending messages like that. But the relief is short-lived, and I’m wracked with guilt – I should have been the one reaching out with an olive branch, not Willem. Regardless, it means more to me than he can possibly know, and I type out a reply:
Thank you. Just want it to be over.
My thumbs hover over the screen. I want to ask about seeing him, but what if that’s pushing my luck? What if he’s only being friendly – or worse, polite ? And didn’t I tell myself I needed to get past today before I could properly make things right with Willem?
No, I should wait. I want to have a clear head and an unfettered heart before I see Willem again – or even ask to see him.
I set my phone down and go shower.
* * *
As the cab stops in front of the Langham, everything I want to say to Jon, along with everything Poppy has coached me on, flies out of my head. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been mentally rehearsing for days now. I’m a ball of nerves.
Though a gorgeous ball of nerves, I’ll admit, having spent a couple of hours at the salon to have my hair and makeup done. I’m also dressed to kill in a tailored suit, lacy camisole, and black heels. But no sense in looking like a million pounds if my mind is blank and I can’t utter a coherent sentence.
I should have expected that showing up here, where much of our courtship took place, would knock me sideways. Hopefully, seeing the others will stem the rising tide of panic.
I pay the cabbie and step out into the sunshine, and the doorman, dressed in opulent finery, marches up the steps ahead of me to open the door.
‘Good afternoon, madam. Welcome to the Langham,’ he says, his warm smile shaving a sliver off my nerves.
‘Thank you.’
Once inside, I cast my eyes about for the others. Poppy’s meeting us in the lobby to take us up to the suite Jon booked. As instructed, she checked in earlier as Penny to ‘freshen up after her flight’ while Jon is at Mayberry’s for a manicure and straight-razor shave.
I was worried about him showing up earlier than expected, but Poppy assured me the agency has eyes on him and will know precisely when he’s on his way up to the suite. No doubt that odd French woman is lurking nearby disguised as a topiary.
I catch sight of Poppy and she waves me over.
‘You look fantastic,’ she says, eyeing me from top to toe.
‘Thanks,’ I say before sucking in a gulping breath. Breathe, Kate, breathe.
‘Hiya, we’re here.’
I turn at the sound of Lucia’s voice and she and Adriana are striding across the lobby, their footsteps echoing. They also look gorgeous – Adriana in a floral silk maxi-dress and Lucia in a fitted linen shift in siren red. Like me, they’re both wearing heels, and I wonder if it’s for the same reason – to be as tall and formidable as possible when we face Jon.
We greet each other nervously – I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s anxious – then Poppy, who’s the calm in the eye of this storm, says, ‘Let’s go up.’
The ride in the lift and the walk along the carpeted hallway is silent as we collectively fizz with anticipation – and a large serving of trepidation. Poppy leads us into the suite and as expected, it’s spacious and luxurious.
This is really happening . Breathe, Kate, breathe , I remind myself.
‘I thought I could stand here when he comes in,’ says Poppy, indicating a spot right in the line of sight from the door. ‘And you three could be over there.’ She points to a sofa. Silently, we cross to it and sit with me in the middle.
‘I haven’t been this nervous since taking my final exams to be a teacher,’ says Adriana.
‘For me, it’s since my first exhibit,’ says Lucia.
‘I’m glad it’s not just me,’ I offer in solidarity.
‘God, no,’ says Lucia with a laugh, and Adriana agrees.
‘Ah, ladies,’ says Poppy. We all look up. ‘He’ll be here soon.’
‘Ady and I were talking,’ Lucia says to me, ‘and we’ll follow your lead.’
‘All right,’ I agree.
We haven’t discussed this previously, but it makes sense. I was the first fiancée, after all.
We make forgettable small talk as the minutes tick over and my nerves ratchet up. Inevitably, the beep of the keycard sounds, silencing us immediately, and the door swings open. Poppy dons a neutral expression, her eyes fixed on Jon as he sweeps into the room, his overbearing cologne instantly permeating the air.
If I didn’t know Jon – and I wasn’t repulsed by the sight of him – I might say he looks good. He’s dressed in a lightweight suit, one that will have cost several thousand pounds on Saville Row, and a white dress shirt unbuttoned at the neck.
‘Darling!’ he declares, crossing to Poppy. She steps aside, dodging the incoming embrace, and his features morph into confusion.
Eyes laser-focused on Jon, I grope for Adriana and Lucia’s hands either side of me, clasping them tightly. And as though we rehearsed it, we stand in unison then drop hands.
‘Hello, Jon ,’ I say, drenching his name in rancour.
He turns abruptly, his shock so extreme as his eyes dart between us, it would be comical if I didn’t want to cut his bollocks off – metaphorically speaking, that is.
‘Wha— I don’t— I can’t—’ he stammers. His eyes bug out and his mouth gapes then closes without making any sound. He’s like a well-groomed goldfish.
His gaze swings back to Poppy. ‘Penny?’ he asks, clearly confounded.
This is when I should start speaking, but my mind has gone blank and my mouth bone-dry.
‘I’m not Penny Mullings,’ Poppy says coolly. ‘She doesn’t exist.’
He recoils in shock, then breaks into incredulous laughter. When he looks at us to share the joke, his ridiculous smile falls away the instant he sees we’re not laughing with him.
‘Sit. Down,’ I say firmly, finally finding my voice.
‘Sorry?’
‘I said, sit . Over there will do,’ I say, pointing at a low wing-back chair.
He hesitates, obviously perplexed, then ever so slowly edges towards the chair, watching me warily, as if I’m a lioness who might gobble him up if he makes a sudden move.
He sits, sinking into the chair. I couldn’t have planned it any better, him now peering up at us like a little boy. Adriana moves first, skirting around the coffee table and standing over him, her arms folded and glowering. I follow and so does Lucia, who slots in beside me.
‘Obviously, we three have met,’ I say to him. ‘And you can imagine our surprise, discovering that the other two existed, that you were involved in love affairs with three different women in three different countries.’
He goes to speak, but I silence him with, ‘No, I’m still speaking.’
I glare at him, unblinking, as a flash of shock crosses his face. He presses his lips together and looks away.
‘But we know all about you now , Jon Theodore Dunn,’ I say, imbuing each of his names with condemnation. ‘We know that you’re not a pilot, nor a diamond dealer, nor a wine merchant. And you’re not a geologist,’ I say sarcastically, flicking my eyes towards Poppy where she’s leaning against an ornate desk, staring coldly at Jon.
Jon glances over his shoulder then turns back to me. It’s clear he’s starting to piece things together, and his gaze falls to his hands, which are fisted in his lap.
‘We know that as the beneficiary of a substantial trust, you’re obscenely wealthy, that you have no profession, contributing nothing meaningful to society, and that you live in this hotel fulltime – and not because your home is being renovated. We also know your mother lives on a vast estate in Scotland, rather than in a care facility, and that she’s completely oblivious to what her son has been doing.’
This last statement – an educated guess – is confirmed by the split-second of horror in Jon’s eyes before he regains his composure – well, as best he can. He looks absurd in that low chair.
His eyes harden and he puffs out his chest. ‘I haven’t ?—’
‘You haven’t what ?’ I ask, cutting him off again. God, Margot would be so proud of me right now.
I bend down, my face close to his, like a nursery teacher chiding an errant child. ‘You haven’t lied to all of us, including “Penny”? You haven’t pretended to be someone you’re not, to be some place you’re not, time and time again?’ I stare right into his eyes, then straighten, looking down my nose at him. ‘Because you have . And we have proof.’
‘You even bought us the same engagement rings,’ Adriana spits at him.
‘Yes, and why was that, Jon?’ asks Lucia, notably abandoning the name ‘Jonny’. ‘Lack of imagination or something more sinister? Some sort of sick branding, perhaps. Behold my fiancées, blinded by love and each wearing the same sodding ring!’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ he says dismissively. ‘I didn’t even give you a ring.’
‘Hah!’ she barks. ‘But you’d planned to. Ristorante Il Desco? Hotel Gabbia d’Oro? Do they ring a bell?’ she asks smugly.
Jon’s mouth starts working again, then he clamps it shut. He must be wondering how we can possibly know all this – hah!
‘And how was this supposed to work, Jon?’ asks Adriana, glaring down at him while he blatantly avoids eye contact. ‘Were you really planning on becoming a polygamist?’
‘ I bet you never planned on marrying any of us,’ Lucia interjects. ‘If you hadn’t been caught, you’d have strung us along indefinitely. You weird, sick bastard.’
‘ Ja! ’ Adriana chimes in.
Lips pressed together, Jon stares hard at the carpet in front of him. We’ve definitely got him on the ropes now. And it really doesn’t matter what his intentions were or how he thought he’d get away with being engaged to three women – possibly even four. He’s clearly delusional – or as Lucia says, a ‘weird, sick bastard’.
‘Right,’ I say, getting to the part I was coached on, ‘this is what’s going to happen. There’s going to be a close watch on you, Jon Dunn. You’ve already been blacklisted at every matchmaking agency and on every dating app in the UK – and Europe and North America. And if your tiny little brain thinks that’s of no consequence, guess again. Because if you so much as think about attempting to dupe another woman with a false persona, every shred of evidence we’ve accrued against you will be sent to your mother. And with her as the named trustee of your inheritance…’ I trail off with a shrug, leaving the rest of the threat implied.
I’m not entirely sure how the Ever After Agency plans to follow through on this threat, but Poppy assures me it’s legitimate.
Jon heaves out a frustrated, guttural sigh, then places his hands on the arms of the chair and stands. ‘Are you finished ?’ he asks viciously.
I look to the others, who murmur their agreement, then back at Jon. ‘ Almost ,’ I say. I smile at him serenely, which seems to confuse him even more. ‘Poppy?’
‘Poppy?’ Jon murmurs. He looks over at her. ‘Oh, of course, you’re Poppy.’
‘I am. And before you leave, you should know that the Creative Futures Foundation is extremely grateful for your generous donation.’
‘Creative Fut— Oh my god.’ He claps his hand over his mouth, then drops it like it weighs a tonne. ‘Oh my god, I signed that donation over.’
‘Yes, you did,’ she replies with a broad smile.
‘Only because you asked me to – no, begged me to.’
‘ Penny begged you to.’
‘Well, that won’t stand. That donation was procured under false pretences. Wait,’ he says, his eyes narrowing with realisation. ‘The not-for-profit I donated to was called Urban Growth something, not Creative Futures… whatever it was you said.’ He flaps his hand about as if he’s shooing flies.
‘Urban Growth Collective is the parent organisation,’ Poppy says evenly. She points at him, mirth in her eyes. ‘But you generously donated specifically to the Creative Futures Foundation, which supports arts’ education for underprivileged youths.’
‘Oh, no. We’ll see about that. You tricked me. You’ve committed fraud .’
Lucia is the first to break, her laughter filling the room, then Adriana and I exchange a glance and join in.
‘Oh, Jon,’ says Lucia, waving her hands in front of her face. ‘That’s the funniest thing you’ve ever said.’
Now we’re proper laughing – all three of us – and the release is incredible. Meanwhile, Jon is standing there, hands on his hips, glaring at us.
‘I’m not sure what you find so amusing,’ he bellows. Our laughter reduces to sniggers, but none of us stop laughing outright. ‘I think you’ll find that what this woman has done,’ he says, pointing at Poppy, ‘is illegal. And if you had anything to do with it, you’ll go down with her.’
‘Mr Dunn,’ says Poppy, grabbing his attention. His glowering eyes slide in her direction. ‘You’re not in the position to issue threats and I’m sure once you consult your solicitor, you will learn two things. First, that contract you signed is watertight. Top-notch solicitors have seen to that. Second, this wasn’t a one-off donation. You agreed to donate ￡150,000 annually for the next ten years – all going towards the Jon Theodore Dunn Arts’ Education Bursary.’
Jon turns beet-red, rounding on us.
‘I don’t know where you found this… this… harpy , but you will rue the day, I can promise you. Especially you !’ He stabs his finger at Adriana. ‘Arts’ education? Is this some sort of joke?’
‘No more than you proposing to me when you were already engaged to Kate,’ she replies pointedly.
Jon vigorously shakes his head, his face now purple. ‘This is… outrageous , that’s what! You’ll be hearing from my solicitor. Gah!!!’ he shouts as he storms out.
I’m sure he wishes he could have slammed the door, but this is a hotel and hotel doors don’t work that way.
‘Harpy,’ says Poppy with a laugh. ‘Well, I’ve been called worse.’
And we all break into raucous laughter.