Chapter Eight Asher
It feels like every single pair of eyes in the room are on me and I can’t blame them.
The last thirty seconds are playing on a loop in my mind.
One moment, Imani is in my arms, her soft curves pressed against me as I steady her and keep her from falling.
The next, her drink – a pink, fruity concoction – is being splashed over my front and she’s staring at me like I’m a piece of gum on the bottom of her shoe.
It wasn’t real, I remind myself as I purposely avoid Teddy’s questioning gaze and dip through a set of double doors that lead me to the restrooms. It was just an act. This is what we wanted to happen. This was the plan.
Sort of.
Really, the plan was to just start sowing the seeds of a failed relationship and a lingering bitterness that’s only grown over the last ten years. I wasn’t expecting to have to put it into action so soon. And I definitely wasn’t expecting to feel so guilty when push came to shove.
I open the bathroom door and step inside.
It’s blissfully empty, so I can drop the facade of looking furious and irritated.
I lean against the basin and assess the damage in the mirror.
My shirt is damp, there’s a light pink stain blossoming on the front of it, and I smell vaguely of peach and something sickly sweet.
As I drag a paper towel across the sticky mess on my chest, accomplishing nothing except spreading it further, I wonder if this whole thing is finally about to blow up in my face.
I’ve agreed to go along with Imani’s plan under the belief that, ultimately, my father won’t care about some more bad press but I don’t think it really occurred to me just how committed Imani would be to seeing this through.
I thought at most we’d shoot each other glares from across the room and maybe whisper thinly veiled insults about each other. But Imani does everything wholeheartedly, including this.
The memory of her lips parting in surprise as I snapped back at her forces itself into the forefront of my mind, and that sharp sensation of guilt stabbing my stomach rears its ugly head again.
Trust me, Imani, the last thing I want is to waste another second on you.
Logically, I know that she’s well aware that I didn’t mean it and that it was all part of the act.
But I can’t get the image of her face crumpling out of my mind.
I’m starting to wonder if maybe I played the villain role a little too well.
Which is technically a good thing, I remind myself over and over again.
It’s good that I looked like a complete ass.
It’s good that it looks like Imani hates me with every fibre of her being.
It’s even better that everyone saw and that they’re all whispering about us already.
The more it seems like we’re on the same page and I’m committed to this plan, the less likely it is she’ll hate my guts when it inevitably falls through.
The door to the restroom swings open and I barely have the chance to force an irritated look back onto my face before Teddy comes marching in. He closes the door behind him, leans against it so no one can follow him, and then stares questioningly at me, arms folded over his chest.
‘Pretty sure that’s a fire hazard,’ I murmur, still dabbing at my shirt with the useless paper towel in an incredibly see-through attempt to avoid looking at him and having to answer the mountain of questions I’m sure he has for me.
‘Pretty sure you’ve lost your goddamn mind,’ Teddy quips back. ‘What the fuck was that, Ash?’
Despite everything, I can’t help but let out a dry laugh. ‘I’m asking myself the same thing.’
I put down the towel and finally face him.
He’s staring at me like he’s genuinely worried I’ve gone off the deep end.
Which is fair, I suppose. Not only did I message him frantically a few days ago, asking if it was possible for him to get me on the guest list for tonight – something I’ve never done, as I prefer to avoid events like this, or any events really – but now this?
I’m surprised he hasn’t called for an ambulance to cart me off yet.
‘Are you alright?’ Teddy asks, giving me a once-over. He’s still looking at me like I’ve sprouted a second head. ‘They’re saying she shoved you?’
Idly, I wonder if I should be alarmed by the intensity of the anger that suddenly washes through me. Less than five minutes have passed and already the reality of what actually happened has been distorted, twisted and moulded into something a hundred times uglier than it actually was.
‘Imani didn’t shove me,’ I say with a scowl Teddy definitely doesn’t deserve. ‘She just chucked her drink over me.’
‘Because that’s so much bett—Wait.’ His eyes go wide and he holds up a hand. ‘Imani? As in, the future Mrs Vouvalis, Imani? That Imani?’
My expression turns sheepish. ‘The one and only.’
Teddy runs a hand down his face and groans. ‘I know marrying you isn’t exactly high up on her list of things she’s excited for, but why, and pardon my language, the fuck would she do that?’
A very large part of me wants to come clean and tell Teddy everything about my plan with Imani.
He’d probably be able to help with it, if I’m being honest. But then I’d have to explain to him why I agreed to go ahead with the plan in the first place and I can’t bring myself to do it.
It’s embarrassing enough to admit to myself just how patheticically I am craving my father’s love; I don’t need to verbalise it to my brothers.
‘Come on,’ Teddy pokes at me. ‘Why does your future wife hate you?’
This was her plan, I remind myself yet again even as the word hate bounces around in my skull like a pinball.
She wants people to think that we can’t stand each other.
She wants drama.
Tension.
A simmering loathing that everyone can feel the second we walk into a room together. So why does hearing Teddy say it out loud get under my skin so badly?
Why does it bother me so much that right now, people are probably whispering about how much she despises me, or wondering what she could’ve done to me to inspire such loathing?
I can’t explain it.
‘We have a history,’ I say before Teddy can ask again.
At that, Teddy raises his brows. ‘A history,’ he repeats, clearly unimpressed. ‘So you do know each other?’
I nod, briefly wondering if I’ll ever stop feeling guilty about all of this.
‘Yes. Kind of. We dated back at university.’ I spend the next two minutes going over the fictional past Imani and I concocted, embellishing a bad break-up that left us both wounded and bitter. By the time I’m finished, Teddy looks like I’ve just slapped him.
‘And you didn’t think any of this would’ve been important to mention before?’ he asks, looking genuinely offended that I’ve omitted this piece of information about my life. ‘You know, Dad probably wouldn’t have—’
‘He already knows,’ I say bitterly. The idea that my father would do anything to spare me some pain is laughable. ‘And he’s already said I have to fix things with her.’
Teddy shakes his head. ‘And this is your idea of fixing things?’
‘No.’ I can’t help but scowl at my brother, even though this is exactly what we wanted to happen. ‘I didn’t mean for it to go down like this. He’s going to be pissed, isn’t he?’
Teddy scoffs. ‘It’s not him you need to be worried about. It’s her father. You know what Malcolm Davies is like.’
I didn’t until Imani filled me in, but Teddy is right. If my father is angry at how tonight has unfolded, I have no doubt that Imani’s father will be practically apoplectic with rage.
In an ideal world, this would be all we need to do to get the marriage called off. Just one embarrassing night at a charity event and that’s it. No more wedding. No more Imani. I’m sure that’s what she’s banking on.
I doubt things will be that easy though. Not when Georgios Vouvalis is involved.
‘Wait a second. Is this why you agreed to this stupid plan in the first place?’ Teddy asks suddenly, eyes narrowed. ‘Because you’ve still got feelings for her? Even though it’s been, what, almost ten years now?’
‘No,’ I say immediately.
Teddy is clearly unconvinced.
‘I don’t,’ I insist. ‘If you couldn’t tell, we didn’t exactly end on a good note.’
‘Doesn’t mean you don’t still have feelings for her.’ He shakes his head and the look on his face morphs from suspicious into sympathetic. ‘Look, Ash, I know better than anyone that love can make you do crazy things, but this scheme Dad’s got you involved in isn’t—’
‘I don’t love her,’ I say firmly. ‘And I didn’t agree to go ahead with it in some kind of misguided attempt to win her back. You know why I’m doing it. Don’t make me say it.’
‘A misguided attempt at rekindling your first love would be a better reason than the reality,’ Teddy mumbles, quietly enough for me to pretend I haven’t heard him.
‘Alright,’ he sighs heavily after a long pause, dragging a hand down his face again. ‘As much as I’d love to keep babysitting you in here, you hiding out isn’t helping things. The longer you hole up in this bathroom, the faster the gossip mill spins.’
He’s right, of course, but I still groan and mutter, ‘I was hoping if I stayed in here for long enough, everyone would just forget.’
Teddy barks out a laugh. ‘Not a chance. There are probably at least three different versions of the story floating around by now. One where she slapped you. One where you got on your knees and begged her to take you back. And probably one where you burst into tears. If not, I’m spreading that rumour once we get out there. ’
‘Thanks for the brotherly support,’ I deadpan.
Teddy gives me an overdramatic wink then pushes off the door and jerks his chin towards the hall. ‘Come on. Time to face the music.’
The murmur of voices hits me the second Teddy opens the door and I do my best to drown out the whispers and wide-eyed stares as we make our way to our table. Instead, my eyes skim over sequinned dresses and tailored suits, instinctively searching for Imani.