“Now, who is that guy?” I say, and Audrey lets out a sheepish giggle and starts to blush. Before she says anything she stares at her own glass, fidgeting with it.
“He’s a director that I have worked with a few times and I don’t know, just, um…”
Audrey Rayburn—complete icon that she is—has a crush, just like everyone else and is somehow fumbling over another man. I am glad this is a universal experience and not just a me thing.
“I don’t blame you. I mean, look at him.”
We both look at each other for a split second in silence before we break out in laughter when we catch the man staring at us, confused. A pure laughter that can never be recreated. My chest lifts before I exhale a large breath.
I hear the words, “Well done” from Skye, and that brings a smile to my face. My smile falls instantly when Audrey waves a finger at me that she has to pick up this call before walking away. I didn’t even get a chance to tell her my name.
Chapter twenty
Optics
Any minute now, the introductions to Mr. Carlson will be made. Every breath or word I utter will matter, because every business deal counts with the Whitmores.
Scanning the room, Aidan’s blonde hair sticks out in the crowd. I tap his shoulder to get his attention. As soon as he turns his head, I lean in to whisper, “Just letting you know I am going to be right back, I’m—”
He gently squeezes my hand three times. I pretend not to notice, the rest of my words fracture on my tongue.
I met my idol and fumbled the whole interaction, especially the part when I blocked her coming to you for a business opportunity. Oh, and also my client is here, stalking me under the guise of fake-dating me.
If I don’t escape this ballroom right now, I might strip down to my bra and underwear, since this ball-gown contraption feels like a sauna.
His eyes scan me, deepening his gaze and all I can think of is, “Just going to the bathroom.” A tight-lipped smile stretches over my face.
“Okay. Don’t be too long. I need you here.”
I don’t respond, only giving a quick nod before my hand breaks away from his and I’m fast-walking to the bathroom.
A string of ladies have just exited the bathroom. All I can do is just stare at myself in the mirror.
Analyzing every freckle, every enlarged pore and the uneven liner across my eyelid. I try my hardest to fix the unevenness without ruining the look with my pinky finger. A loud humming in my ears starts low and picks up as I hear the ominous, ancient voice again: “A luz sabe duas almas incompletas.” The phrase sticks around in a rhythmic chant, always in threes.
Skye’s olive skin and hazel eyes flash before me in my reflection, the blue luminous light bouncing off the mirror.
Hearing the chant more closely, it sounds like Parseltongue in my ears, never quite matching the five foot eight, slender body that towers over me.
“Why can’t you just admit what you want?” She asks.
I turn my back to the mirror, gripping the sink behind me.
“I am so sick of you.” I push off the sink and stumble into an open stall, locking myself inside.
Everything is becoming too much. This chain around my neck is suffocating.
Her quiet laugh follows as her body slips inside the stall with me.
“I’m dead. What makes you think you can hide from me?”
She isn’t letting this go.
It’s twisted. I’m a nobody—just another neighbor in the building across from hers. There’s no rhyme or reason why someone would pick me to follow in their afterlife. Surely, she had plenty of things to do. Mrs. Silva would love to see her. Her parents, even…
“Am I a pet project for you to say cryptic things to?”
I grab the roots of my hair and pull slightly. A few baby hairs are now between my fingertips.
