“For fuck’s sake, can we stop talking about that bloody surgeon?! You two, hurry up and finish makeup.”
Fucking Simon.
Mike, one of the producers, strolls over, grinning. “Relax. He’s actually happy with you.”
I blink. “Funny way of showing it.”
“I’m serious,” Mike says. “You’ve had a real bounce in your step this week. You’re our golden girl right now.” He smirks. “And that comes with perks.”
I perk up, eyebrows shooting skyward. “Oh? Like a fat bonus check?”
“Better.” His smirk deepens. “You’re coming with me to the Heroes in White & Blue ball next month. The network’s a sponsor.”
Ooh.
Heroes in White & Blue—one of the UK’s most prestigious galas, dedicated to honoring NHS heroes while rubbing elbows with celebrities, CEOs, and various other Important People.
Last year, Peter Andre and his wife went. I’d love to see them.
But there’s only one man I want to attend this ball with and he’s tall, blue eyed, and wears a stethoscope.
I suck in a breath.
Icouldget my own ticket. Could bite the bullet and ask Edward if we could go together.
“I’d need to check with my boyfriend,” I say sweetly, relishing the word. “He might already be invited, seeing as he’s a—”
“Surgeon,” Mike finishes.
Okay.
Maybe I’m getting atinybit carried away.
“Just drop me off at the end of the lane,” I say, already reaching for the door handle.
My handsome surgeon flicks on the indicator. “Sophia isn’t going to suspect something just because I gave you a lift from London. I’m not letting you walk down the lane like you’re sneaking in under the cover of darkness.”
I huff, bouncing my knee, trying to dispel the jittery energy vibrating under my skin. Funny how all my bravado from last night has evaporated now that we’re rolling up the world’s poshest driveway. The Cavendish estate. “I’m just nervous. What if they can tell how horny I am for you?”
I flash him a grin.
His lips twitch but his eyes stay firmly on the road. “Unless you’re planning on climbing onto my lap during the soup course, I think we’ll manage.”
I snort, but the nerves stay put, lodging themselves right under my ribcage.
Because this is the first time I’ll be around Edward and Sophia together since this thing—whatever this thing is—started.
And, god help me, I really don’t want to fuck this up.
I want to be on my best behavior. I want Mrs. Cavendish to look at me and think,Oh, yes, what a perfectly suitable, respectable woman for my son.
The funny thing is, I couldn’t give a toss that Charlie’s going to be there. He and his fiancée could be doing handstands on the dining table, for all I care.
Because the only thing that matters tonight is that I don’t make Edward regret whatever madness possessed him to date me.
And now we’re here. Staring at the physical manifestation of everything that separates us. My staff cottage versus his stately home. His Goliath to my . . . well, not even David. More like David’s cousin who lives in a shed.
Edward swings his Range Rover up the long, winding drive, parking in front of Cavendish Manor, where a fleet of aggressively expensive cars is already lined up like we’re about to start the Monaco Grand Prix.
