I ran a hand up Sophie’s back, smoothing down her spine. I felt her shiver which made me repeat the move. I loved getting a reaction from her because I knew she was desperate to not give me one.
“It’s a joint venture. The property we’ve found is a large one, so while part of it will be a recording studio, the rest will be an addition to Soph’s business.”
Amber asked a few more questions about what Sophie did, how involved she was in the daily shit and I half lost interest, keener to find out exactly how I could make her shiver some more.
“So how did the two of you meet?” Amber smile was wide.
I could’ve felt comfortable. Amber could be a bitch to be interviewed by, but she seemed to be fairly tame today. There was a bite to some of her words though, one I’d speak to her about later.
“Weirdly enough, you were there.” Sophie relaxed into my side and for a second it felt real.
This was how it could be if we weren’t playing pretend.
“It was the night Liam made his announcement at my friend’s restaurant. You asked about his father.” Sophie glanced up at me.
“She was the person who came out to check I was okay.”
“That’s really quite romantic. How did the proposal go?”
I gave her the spiel we’d agreed on, how it was in Iceland, watching the Northern Lights and how I didn’t have a ring at the time I proposed. It just felt right. The story was a half-truth, because it had felt right, under that cold sky, watching lights dance as if there were spirits dancing in the sky.
Amber carried on finding out about the wedding, what plans we had. I let Sophie answer most, adding a few details and joining in with a minor disagreement that we’d kind of pre-arranged but was now a proper problem.
She wanted me to perform at our reception, the one where more than a dozen people would be. I didn’t want to perform again.
It lasted over an hour before Amber turned off her recording. I felt Sophie exhale. For the first time in over an hour I lost contact with her to stretch. “Are we good?”
Amber nodded. “We’re good. The photographer’s coming out tomorrow to get a few pics of you both.” She looked from me to Sophie. “Can I have a quick word with Sophie about her spas?”
I nodded. I needed a piss anyway. And I wanted to scribble down some lyrics that had been floating around my head. I leaned down and kissed the top of Sophie’s head as I passed her, my hand brushing her cheek.
It wasn’t until I’d left the room that I realised I’d done it automatically, without having to think about putting on a show.
Maybe it wasn’t that much of a show after all.
13
Sophie
Amber Morrison was not my sort of person. I’d figured that out from the moment she refused to make eye contact with Liam. Tall, slender – the sort of figure that most designer clothes looked good on – she had been a semi-familiar face presenting the late night shows around music festivals and hip interviews with the latest up and coming rock stars. I knew from my staff at Everlea that she generally hung around the bigger, more famous names, trying to become their new best friends. She was a climber.
And I had the feeling she may have climbed all over my fake fiancé.
“I’ve been friends with Liam for years. It would be good to get to know you better, maybe have a couple of drinks together.” Her smile wasn’t warm.
I stayed sitting back in my seat, pretending to myself that I didn’t miss the warm body of the man who had been sitting next to me. I wasn’t intimidated by Amber; I’d met women like her before. Ambitious and prepared to shit on anyone who got in her way.
I’d eaten women like her for a pre-breakfast snack .
“That would be lovely. When do you suggest?”
She smiled, shrugged daintily. “You’re the busy businesswoman. When works for you?”
“How about now? I’ve done with wedding planning for the day – I need a break before I turn into Bridezilla. Have you been married before?” I knew damn well what she thought she had up her sleeve.
“Never. You have though, haven’t you?”
“Three times. Twice to the same man. I used to say I was planning to be the next Elizabeth Taylor but I think wedding number four will be the last.” I stood up, my purse in hand. We’d met Amber in a tiny meeting room at a trendy bar in Southwark, not too far from the Callaghan Green offices. If I was right, Seph would be lurking around in Whisky Ginger about now, stalking his prey for the evening. That would be a good distraction for Amber from asking me questions.
