Page 49

Chapter Seventeen

Scarlett

Once seated, Piers jumps right into conversation. Thankfully, there are three other couples at our table.

He introduces Willow, as an old friend, but the way his lips linger, kissing her cheek, he’s not fooling anyone. She flushes at the attention, and I stare past her in search of Cohen. Now would be a good time for him to step in and rescue me. Theo picks up on the awkwardness and moves the conversation along.

Piers steps away from the table to talk with a few guests, and Willow catches the women at the table staring at Piers when their husbands aren’t looking, the way women often do.

“So, Willa? What is it that you do again?” one asks her.

“I’m, uh…” she fumbles over her words. And this is why I doubt her ability to back him the way he needs. In this elitist society you either become part of by birth, wealth, or looks, you can’t show weakness. She needs to put them in their place and stop cowering to me.

If she wants him, as much as he wants her, she needs to be willing to fight for him. I need to know she’s not going to walk away again.

“She writes children’s books,” I interject, raising my glass of champagne in toast to Willow to show her this is how it’s done. “Little fairy stories.” The last part slips out a bit snarky, but the champagne combined with the wine I consumed earlier is making my head swim with memories.

Before long, I’ll be drowning in them.

Teddy shoots me a warning glare. Got it, Teddy Bear. I’ll play nice.

She flits her gaze to me like a wounded lamb, now knowing Piers told me about her hidden profession. He was proud. I heard it in his voice over the phone as he asked me to find everything she had ever published and order copies. Which I did.

The stories were quite incredible and the artwork was breathtaking.

Taking a deep breath, she turns back toward thing one and thing two. “Yes, I’m a writer and illustrator of children’s books.”

“Like picture books?” one asks, and I stifle laughter. Half-wit.

“Yes, picture books. Do you have a particular favorite?” Willow smiles sweetly, and Theo nearly chokes on his drink at the exchange. That’s the spirit. Maybe she does have what it takes.

“Reginald would never let me work outside the home,” number two chimes in.

They shoot their dirty looks and resume whispering amongst themselves. Either that, or the fact that Piers sits back down draws their attentions elsewhere.

“I think that’s fantastic, Willow. Good for you! Cheers!” Theo raises his glass to her, ever the peacekeeper.

“Thanks, Theo. That’s very kind of you to say. I’m sure it’s nothing near the caliber you’re used to reading at University.” Her voice waivers again.

“What are we toasting?” Piers asks, reaching over and taking her hand while my own empty palms rub together in my lap.

I need something to hold onto. I wish I could leave the table and just go find Cohen.

Surely I didn’t imagine him. I felt him.

“Willow’s success as a children’s author and illustrator,” Theo fills him in, and Piers narrows his eyes at me. Busted.

I look away from his angry green gaze, desperate to find a cool blue one as I scan the room once more. Across a sea of tuxedos and glittering ball gowns, fragrant flowers and twinkling lights. Nothing.

Rolling my eyes, I excuse myself from the table. “I need another drink.”

Another drink is really the last thing I need. My head is already swimming. After dinner and endless schmoozing, what I really need is some fresh air. But first, a quick visit to the toilet.

Walking to the marble counter, I set my bag down, right next to a silver mask—one that looks a lot like the one I had Harrods drop off for Willow.

Just what I need. A girl’s chat in the most dangerous place of all: the lou.

Before I can make my escape undetected, I hear the door open, and a group of women walk in, talking loudly.