7. TED
7
TED
“ I look fat.”
“You don’t. You look fine,” I grumbled, wondering for the millionth time what I was getting myself into.
In front of me, Elena twirled effortlessly, her caramel hair tumbling past her shoulders like molten gold. The dress she wore—a shimmering gown so tightly fitted it could’ve been painted onto her—clung to her hips and accentuated every curve.
Elena gave me a sidelong glance. “You should pay more attention to your body. You’re slacking, Edward. It’s because you’re always eating takeaways,” she said with a sigh. “Stick to salads, darling, or you’ll have a gut by forty.”
“Thanks,” I replied wryly, pulling back slightly. Even her light touch felt too heavy, like she was pressing down on my soul. “And FYI, I like takeaways.”
She huffed, narrowing her eyes as she caught her reflection in the small mirror she always carried. “Well, unless you want me planning your funeral at fifty, lay off them. Everyone important will be here tonight. Stay next to me.”
It wasn’t a request; her slim fingers fluttered almost possessively over the crook of my elbow.
I sighed inwardly. “I fucking hate shit like this.”
“Edward—” She gave me one of those exaggerated pouts that sent her millions of followers into a frenzy. Her eyes sparkled like perfectly cut sapphires, but to me, they’d lost the magic. “You know it’s important to me. Besides, this was the deal when we met.”
Oh yes, my father’s bright idea of marrying me off. I had always felt the weight of my family’s expectations pressing down on me. Growing up as the son of a billionaire, I was accustomed to a life where choices were often shaped by lineage and prestige. When my father pushed me to pursue a relationship with Elena, a glamorous socialite who perfectly fit the family’s image, I felt cornered. The prospect of living up to my family’s legacy loomed large, and marrying Elena seemed like a way to fulfil those expectations, despite my unresolved feelings for Adele.
God, Adele.
How was it possible that a weekend spent ten years ago with a woman still held such significance in my life?
But when I met Elena, she’d just been her —cute, simple, walking into a bar without airbrushed filters or small armies of publicists. She hadn’t been as full on or famous back then; she hadn’t had the gravity of celebrity pulling at her every move. That girl was long gone, replaced by this woman dressed in perfection and constantly striving for more.
“You weren’t famous then,” I muttered, smoothing down my tie.
“I was!” she insisted, grabbing my hand. A security guard standing beside us acknowledged Elena with a slight dip of his head, moving aside as we approached the velvet-roped entrance.
The air outside was thick with the scent of champagne already poured and bodies drenched in the latest designer perfumes. Lights popped everywhere as photographers jostled for position while their bulbs blew up in my face, blinding me momentarily.
Elena’s grip tightened. “Anyway…this is your big debut. Smile—look happy!”
I forced a grin, feeling it stretch tight over my face. God, I had so much fucking money, and I was supposed to be living the dream. Yet here, among the cream of the upper class, in a perfectly tailored suit and beside a perfect woman, I had never felt so...invisible.
“Hi!” Elena’s voice dripped with sweet charm, louder now as we stepped into the swarm of press. The bulbs flashed like fireworks, each one an explosion begging for a piece of us. “Thank you so much for being here tonight! This is Edward, my fiancé.”
“Edward, how did you pop the question?”
“Edward, how does it feel to be Mr Elena?”
“Edward—Edward, over here! Flash a smile!”
I could feel my face aching from the effort of pretending. I exhaled through a clenched jaw.
Diamonds glittered everywhere as women passed by, their gowns rustling. Teeth so blindingly white, reminding me of perfect pearls.
“Elena, you look ravishing,” said one of the older men, his voice louder than anyone else’s. His eyes not so subtly lingered on Elena’s cleavage, sparkling just as much as the diamonds at her throat.
“Doesn’t she?” I replied—though the guy didn’t seem to care much for my opinion, too far gone into his ogling. Wonderful.
Elena giggled, kissing him on both cheeks as though this were Paris in springtime instead of hell itself. “How’s Elizabeth?” she purred, expertly diverting attention.
“Oh,” the man responded, clearly delighted by her attentiveness, “Devastated about that delay on the Esse collection. Terribly so.”
“Did she pre-order?”
I spun to face them, frowning. “Esse?” My voice dragged out the word like it was something I’d picked up off a crumpled grocery list.
“Jewellery, Edward,” Elena snapped lightly under her breath, though her smile never wavered. Her fingers wrapped tighter around my arm, as if willing me to understand the importance of her words.
I didn’t care. Maybe the pounding of this kind of life was finally making cracks in my patience. I didn’t take kindly to disrespect—and when I saw eyes dip again toward my fiancée’s chest, something inside me snapped.
“Where is your wife?” I questioned with nonchalant precision, smiling so hard it hurt.
Elena sucked in a breath, invisible knives in her gaze. “Edward! If you haven’t got anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all!”
I smirked, unfazed. “Fine. Forgive me for wanting to point out wandering eyes when they’re practically glowing in the fucking dark.”
“Grow up,” she hissed, waving at a buxom blonde from across the room. “Sherry!”
I tried not to laugh when the blonde sashayed over. No, I wasn’t imagining it. This was Sherry Mary. “Isn’t that…the porn star?” I muttered under my breath.
“Edward, for Christ’s sake—she’s an actress ,” Elena shot back, the word dripping with irony.
Before I could answer, a figure appeared at our side, cutting smoothly into the conversation with a charm I decided I didn’t like. His eyes—sharp, glacial blue—roamed freely over Elena.
“I’ve been waiting to meet you, Edward,” he said, voice silkier than velvet.
Elena flushed, squeezing my hand as she fluttered her eyelashes at Prince Charming. “This is Allan Herod, the son of?—”
“Lee Herod,” I interjected, finally interested. “Your dad won the case against the oil company back in ninety-nine.”
Allan nodded before turning back to Elena. “I wouldn’t know much about that, though; I was only a baby.”
Nineteen and ripped to fuck. No wonder Elena was drinking him up with her eyes.
Taking a step back, I murmured, “Excuse me, I’m just going to the little boys’ room,” leaving Elena and her new admirer to it.
Once I was away from Elena, I became just another guy in a suit. I was faceless, nameless, and it was exactly how I liked it. Instead of heading to the bathroom, I turned left, heading towards an empty balcony for some fresh air.
I held onto the railing, inhaling deeply. The views from up here were magnificent; the city’s lights glittered against the blanket of the night sky, and I wondered how it had come to this.
It hit me again—the weight of everything. The champagne, the lights, the endless parade of glamour. But where was the fun? The spontaneity of a night beyond our control?
“Stifling in there, isn’t it?” a soft voice commented from behind me. Feminine, with a thread of familiarity I couldn’t place immediately.
“Feels like a cage,” I muttered, the tension in my shoulders loosening ever so slightly.
“I agree.” There was an honest exhaustion in her voice that resonated. She stood beside me, her perfume subtle—something like vanilla, warm and nostalgic, conjuring memories I hadn’t summoned for years. “I’m here on business, but I’d rather be on my sofa with my cat.”
“Sounds like a plan. Shall we go?” I joked, turning to rest my left arm on the railing.
“I’ve got to work, or I would. It doesn’t help that I’m here with someone I had a drunken thing with from work.” She grimaced, and I laughed, loving her honesty. It was refreshing.
“Shit, really?”
“Yeah. He thinks we’re having an encore tonight, but I’ve told him I’m going back to my boyfriend.”
I felt a stab of jealousy at the mention of her boyfriend, but then she turned to me, her eyes sparkling. “It’s my cat, but don’t tell anyone.”
A chuckle escaped me before I could stop it. Vanilla. And that humour. Tingles down my spine. Something…something too familiar.
As she tucked a loose curl behind her ear, I saw her clearly for the first time. The glossy lips, the slight upward tilt of her mouth—her eyes, dark and wide?—
No. It couldn’t be. Could it?
Suddenly, it was so sharp, so clear.
“Adele?”