Chapter Seven Imani #2
Emmeline Pittock, youngest daughter of the Earl of Camberley, beams at both of us, bright blue eyes wide and searching. Searching for what? Something juicy.
I chance a sideways glance at Sloane, whose smile has become slightly manic.
We have no concrete proof, but we’re fairly confident that Emmy is the one behind the current most popular anonymous Instagram gossip page going around our circle.
We usually do our best to avoid her at events like this; Sloane still hasn’t quite forgiven Emmy for posting leaked photos of her at a shoot where the make-up artist had no experience with darker skinned women and left Sloane looking a regrettably ashy grey sort of colour.
If she had her way, we’d not be within eyesight of Emmy, but for tonight being close to Emmy is a must.
‘Emmy,’ I say smoothly through a gritted grin. ‘How lovely to see you.’ I descend into the empty seat next to hers. Emmy follows suit and Sloane drops down beside me with barely a nod in Emmy’s direction. ‘How have you been?’
‘Oh just wonderful, wonderful, darling,’ Emmy says absentmindedly. She doesn’t return the pleasantry and ask how I’m doing. Instead, she leans over me and bats her doe-like eyelashes at Sloane. ‘Did I hear correctly that you’ve got a veryyyyy special magazine cover coming soon?’
Sloane’s manic smile widens. ‘I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
Emmy’s own smile gets a little bigger too, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
She shimmies a little closer towards Sloane.
I’m fairly certain that if it were socially acceptable to simply shove me out of the way and steal my seat, she would.
As it stands, she has to settle for awkwardly leaning over me.
It’s abundantly clear that Emmy has no interest in me. I should be offended, but I suppose I can’t blame her. I’m notoriously low drama and she’s never been able to mine me for gossip like she does everyone else, so she’s learned not to waste any time with me and instead go for Sloane.
That’s all about to change tonight.
While Emmy continues to probe Sloane about a certain coveted cover spot (with no success), I scan the room again.
The night is officially in full swing. Surely Asher must be here by now.
I’m itching to reach for my phone in my clutch to see if he’s left me an apologetic message, but Emmy is too close and even if Sloane is currently taking all her attention, I can’t chance her eagle-eye reading something she shouldn’t.
I scan the room again, ready to call it quits and accept the fact that I’ve effectively been stood up, and then I spot him.
Dressed in a tailored navy suit that fits as if it was crafted just for him, he enters the room a few steps behind his brother, Teddy, and who I have to assume is Teddy’s date for the evening.
The cut of Asher’s jacket highlights broad shoulders, and tapers down to show off a trim waist. The crisp white shirt beneath it is almost blinding against the darkness of the suit, the only pop of colour being the flash of a dark tie resting against his chest.
His dark curls are tousled and fall slightly across his forehead in an effortless kind of way that makes my pulse jump. I’ve never denied the fact that Asher is handsome, but tonight he looks impossibly good, like he’s sauntered straight out of the pages of a magazine.
He suddenly looks over in my direction as if he can feel the heat from my gaze boring into him.
For a moment our eyes lock and everything around me seems to slow down.
Emmy non-stop gossiping beside me, the chattering guests, the clinking of glasses, the string quartet still playing softly in the background… all of it blurs into the faintest hum.
Then, without missing a beat, his lips curl into a small, warm smile like he’s relieved to see me. It’s the kind of smile that makes you feel like you’re the only one in the room. It’s a soft, reassuring thing and it makes my heart do a quick flip in my chest.
I force myself to look away before I become an absolute mess of nerves, but I swear I can still feel the warmth of his smile lingering in the space between us.
I inhale slowly, trying to remind myself why I’m here. It’s time to set this plan into motion.
I clear my throat and say, as obnoxiously loud as I can make it, ‘Ugh.’
The effect is instantaneous. As if she’s got some kind of preternatural affinity for sensing juicy gossip, Emmy pauses mid-sentence and turns her head ever so slightly in my direction.
‘What was that?’ she asks.
I pretend to look flustered and wave a frantic hand in front of my face. ‘Oh, it’s—It’s nothing.’ I let slip another glance in Asher’s direction and, yep, Emmy follows my gaze, her curious blue eyes landing on Asher.
She pulls away from Sloane without a second thought and finally looks at me with a smidge of interest.
‘Isn’t that Asher Vouvalis?’
‘Is it?’ I squeak. ‘I wouldn’t know.’
I think I’ve got her.
Emmy sidles up as close to me as she can physically get without invading the last inch of personal space I have left. ‘He doesn’t usually come to things like this, does he?’
She’s clearly probing, trying to see what I’ll reveal before she has to ask outright. Luckily for her, I’ve got extremely loose lips tonight.
‘And thank God for that.’ I pull a face and Emmy suddenly looks like Christmas has come early.
‘What do you mean?’ Emmy asks, abandoning any pretence of giving me space. She drops her voice low and is practically in my lap at this point. ‘I didn’t know you two were acquainted.’
‘We’re not,’ I say hastily. ‘I mean, we’re not anymore…’
Emmy looks like she’s about to burst. ‘Anymore?’ she purrs. ‘Does that mean—’
‘Look,’ I say quietly. Not that volume matters here.
If all goes to plan, everyone will be aware of my supposed past with Asher within the next twenty-four hours.
‘I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, and you know, it’s been years so I should really be over it by now…
’ I trail off and make a show of glancing around our vicinity, checking that nobody is listening in, and then I turn back to Emmy. ‘Asher and I dated a while back.’
Emmy’s thin brows disappear into her silvery blonde hairline. ‘You did not.’ The unsaid I would’ve known hangs between us.
‘We did. Back at university.’
She frowns and I can practically see her mind kicking into overdrive as she combs through years of memories and gossip, trying to remember if Imani Davies and Asher Vouvalis even knew each other nearly a decade ago, let alone dated.
‘Really?’ she sounds doubtful and I bite back a wince. I’m going to have to up my game.
‘You were a year or two above us,’ I remind her quickly.
Not that something as small as being a few years older would have stopped Emmy from finding out.
The girl is a bloodhound when it comes to gossip.
‘You’d probably already graduated by the time we got serious.
And, well, we wanted to keep things low key.
My father didn’t want me dating before I got my degree, and you know Asher’s father…
’ I say with a shrug, hoping Georgios Vouvalis’ general reputation for being a prick will help me out here.
It seems to do the trick because, after a beat of hesitation, Emmy nods and I swallow down a sigh of relief.
‘So, what happened?’ she asks.
I allow a look of intense displeasure to spread over my face. ‘Let’s just say it didn’t end well.’
Emmy’s eyes widen and it’s obvious she’s fighting off a grin. ‘Wow.’
I hum in agreement. ‘This is the first time I’ve seen him in years. You would have thought the hurt would have died down by now but…’ I trail off again, pointedly leaving Emmy the chance to fill in the gaps with all the potential hurt Asher might have caused me.
She gives me a sympathetic pat on the arm. ‘Wounds like that never really heal,’ she says sagely.
A burst of satisfaction shoots through me. There. It’s done. Without a doubt, Emmy will have let just about everyone who’s anyone know all about my alleged past with Asher by the end of the evening.
‘You’re right,’ I say, equally serious. ‘But as long as we don’t cross paths, I’ll be fine. If you could,’ I pretend to glance around nervously, ‘if you could keep this between us? I don’t really like my business being out there and—’
‘Your secret is safe with me,’ Emmy says solemnly.
I have to hand it to the girl – she’s a phenomenal liar. I almost believe her.
‘Thank you,’ I say breathlessly. Now that Emmy has decided I’m not a useless lump of non-gossipy trash, she brings me into the fold.
I spend the rest of the evening listening as she shares information about just about everyone on the scene.
I’m barely paying attention as she reveals how Calliope Locke is currently being sued by no fewer than three different designers for failing to pay for outfits loaned for events or how Hugo Frillingsworth was caught in a compromising position with a waitress just two weeks before his wedding to the Helena Montswill.
Sloane and I aside, everyone else is hanging onto every word, desperate for more gossip about our peers.
Instead, my focus is on Asher’s table. He’s sat beside Teddy and his date, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here.
He looks up suddenly and I quickly look away, not wanting to get caught staring by Emmy. We can’t really keep up the whole ‘we hate each other’ lie if she catches us grinning at each other across the room every five minutes, can we?
I manage to refocus on Emmy, Sloane and the rest of the table for less than two minutes before I find my attention waning.
There are only so many times I can hear Emmy say, ‘Well, I heard…’ before my brain short-circuits.
I glance back over in Asher’s direction and discover, with a jolt that hits straight in my heart, that he’s not at the table anymore.