We pull up at the hotel in loaded silence. My nerves are shot at the verbal blow Zayn dealt me minutes earlier, and I exit the car on shaky legs. For whatever reason, Zayn is in anawful mood tonight, and I have an inkling that it isn’t just nerves. The valet takes Zayn’s keys to the Maserati with a glint of unadulterated excitement in his eyes before Zayn places a hand on my lower back and directs me inside to the coat check, careful to avoid eye contact as we take our place behind the elderly couple ahead of us.
When it’s our turn, I slip my heavy camel-coloured coat off and hand it to the attendant to be checked. I instantly feel a dark presence sweep over my bare skin, sending an eruption of goosebumps across my exposed flesh. I turn to find Zayn’s gaze lingering on my dress, his face looking fifty shades of haunted, and I don’t know what to make of his reaction. Does he like the dress? Hate it? By the way his jaw ticks and his eyes track the dark spill of my hair as it hangs down to my waist, it would be safe to assume my choice of dress just makes him angry.
Is it too much?
I flick my hair down my back and set my shoulders, ready to defend my choice of outfit when the elderly couple that were ahead of us interrupt our silent stand off.
“You two make the loveliest couple,” the woman says, diverting my attention to her soft, smiling face. She has an air of wealth that surrounds her like an expensive fragrance, evident in her smooth velvet gown and the pearls that circle her elegant throat. “Truly mesmerising in your beauty.”
Before I can politely correct her, Zayn cuts me off. “Thank you,” he nods to the woman as he replaces his hand on the small of my back. Unlike before, I can now feel the heat of his hand as it travels through the soft silk of my dress. My heart rate kicks up a notch, even though I’m still affronted by Zayn’s reaction to my outfit.
Glancing round at all the women in their beautiful floor-length gowns, I don’t think mine is too much. Zayn nods to the elderly gentleman and then directs me to the entrance of the ballroom, and I smile at the kind lady as we pass.
“We’re over there,” Zayn says, nodding to a round table at the far end of the room, right in front of the stage. His hand is still firm on my lower back, distracting me as I take in the extravagant surroundings.
“I think this place is a bit big for the event I’m hosting for Hope House,” I muse as I follow Zayn’s lead to our seats. “There’s seating for at least three hundred people here tonight. My modest guest list of one hundred would leave it looking a bit… empty.”
“Oh well, you can cross this space off the list then.” Zayn says, unsurprised, like he knew the venue wouldn’t be suitable before we even arrived. Why would he invite me to come along if he already suspected this? Anna’s words from earlier float through my mind, but I discard them before I can allow myself to give them any merit. Zayn wasn’t tricking me into a date. He doesn’t even seem happy that I’m here. In fact, quite the opposite.
When we arrive at our table, Zayn pulls my chair out for me and waits for me to take my seat first. The rest of the seats at our table are unoccupied, but before I have a chance to sit an older couple approaches us with wide, expectant smiles.
“Zayn!” The attractive woman with dark curls piled on top of her head kisses Zayn on his cheek before turning to me, her partner shaking Zayn’s hand firmly. “And who is this exquisite creature you’ve brought with you?”
“Penny, this is Gianna,” Zayn says smoothly, once again returning his hand to the small of my back. After the woman kisses me on the cheek, Zayn diverts my attention toher partner, who is a tall, handsome man graced with thick salt and pepper hair and a strong jaw. “Gianna, this is Martin. My business partner.”
Business partner? He looks old enough to be Zayn’s dad.
“Hello, Gianna,” Martin says kindly as he shakes my hand. His grip is firm as he takes in the quizzical look on my face. “Ah, Zayn not told you he’s been made partner of the firm, then?” My eyes skip to Zayn, who’s watching me carefully. At least his anger seems to have abated.
“Partner?”
Pride spreads through me like warm honey, heating me from the inside out. I wish I could go back and tell the boy I fell in love with, the boy who matched his lack of privilege only with steely determination for a better life, that he was going to achieve his goals, and then some, one day. An overwhelming urge to cry hot tears of joy and pride threatens to take over me, forcing me to look away from the face that’s so familiar to me yet so different at the same time.
“Absolutely. It was the only way to make sure we don’t lose him! He’s a bloody prodigy. Can’t have him starting his own firm and becoming our competition now, can we?”
I pull myself together and smile at Martin’s words, and then I’m introduced to a few more people from Zayn’s firm that have arrived before we finally take our designated seats at the table.
“Are you alright?” Zayn says quietly in my ear as he tucks my chair in to the table. His voice travels down the nape of my neck, leaving shivers in its wake. The seats on either side of us are still vacant, giving us a modicum of privacy.
“I’m fine,” I whisper back, placing my purse on the table and flicking my hair over my shoulder, carefully avoiding meeting Zayn’s eyes.
“You didn’t look fine just now. You looked like you were about to cry. Did I do something?” The concern evident in Zayn’s velvet voice nearly sets me off again. Why is he so hot and cold towards me?
“Happytears, you moron.” I smile at a newcomer. “I’m… proud. Of you. If you must know.”
When Zayn doesn’t respond I turn to see he’s staring at me with his brows raised in surprise. Then, slowly, a smirk spreads across his face, wide enough that his panty-dropping dimples make an unsolicited appearance. Before he can voice the smart arse comment that I know is on the tip of his tongue, the chair beside me moves and something brushes against my arm.
“Hello, Gianna. Fancy seeing you here.”
David takes the seat beside me, and the air subtly shifts. I can’t quite place it, but there’s something not so friendly in the handsome face staring back at me, something I didn’t notice before in our brief encounters. Maybe it’s seeing him up close, but the way his gleaming smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes gives me an uneasy feeling in my gut. Zayn tenses beside me.
“Hi, David.” I make a show of looking around to the woman who’s taken the seat beside him, noting that David didn’t pull out her chair or offer any introductions the way Zayn’s done for me.
“I’m Gianna,” I offer, shaking her hand.
“Laura,” she responds nervously, letting go of my hand to tuck her fringe behind her ear, her eyes darting around the table like a ping-pong ball that’s been launched into a toilet cubicle.
“It’s nice to meet you, Laura.”
