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“Now that could be worth watching.” Caleb grins. “I’m going to find her now,” he says. Then he looks carefully at Georgia. “You okay?” he asks, like he’s worried. I frown, but let it slide.

“I’m fine. And looking forward to the dancing. Or the gore fest.” She grins at him.

She leans into me, and for a moment everything feels right. I rest my face in her hair. The cool of the night mixed in with her floral shampoo floods my senses.

“Tomorrow, we are going back to my place and we’re not going to get out of bed until you fly home.”

She laughs softly. “That sounds dangerously close to a threat.”

“It’s a promise,” I murmur, brushing my lips against her temple. “Quite frankly, it’s taking everything I have not to whisk you out of here right now.”

Her fingers curl into the lapel of my dinner jacket, holding me there for a second longer than necessary. Her eyes lock with mine.

“I really wish we could go now,” she whispers.

“I’ll get the car.”

She laughs, but neither of us move. Instead I lean down, pressing my lips against hers again. It’s only brief. Not because I don’t want to make a scene – I couldn’t give a damn what anybody thinks – but because when I do kiss her properly, clothes will be shed.

Her dress will be a pool of green on the floor. And I’m going to devour this woman like I’ve been starved for a lifetime.

I pull away, only a couple of inches. We’re still close enough for our breaths to mingle, our eyes to lock.

“Well aren’t you two looking like love’s young dream,” Kate says, sliding up next to us. Georgia steps back, and I immediately miss the warmth of her body.

“Is everything okay?” Kate asks Georgia. “I hope the phone call in the office wasn’t bad news.”

For a moment Georgia says nothing. Then she forces a smile on her face. “Everything is good. Just a friend from home calling to wish me happy holidays.”

“Oh that’s nice.” Kate’s cell phone starts to ring. She lifts it up, her face impassive as she looks at the caller. “I have to take this,” she tells us. “My parents. I’ll speak to you both later.”

I nod. She walks away with the phone to her ear, telling her parents she’s heading somewhere quieter to talk. Georgia turns to watch her, her brows scrunched up like she’s worried.

“Ignore her,” I say. “She likes stirring the pot.”

“I noticed.”

Across the room Alex suddenly pulls his phone from his pocket, frowning at the screen.

Near the fireplace two guests lean closer together, one of them whispering something that makes the other stiffen.

The murmur of conversation gets louder. People are looking at their screens rather than each other.

“Is there something wrong?” Georgia asks, noticing how everybody is ignoring the waiters, too busy looking at their phones to drink champagne and enjoy the party.

“I don’t know,” I murmur. But then my own phone starts to vibrate. I pull it from my pocket to see Saskia’s name on there.

And my stomach tightens.

Before I can say anything else, there’s a sharply loud scream. My mother’s words cut through the string quartet, the room turning ominously silent as everybody turns to look at her.

“You fucking bastard,” she shouts at my father. “You told me it was nothing to worry about.”

My phone stops ringing, then starts again, right as she throws the contents of her glass at him.

“Jesus, this is better than panto,” somebody whispers.

“He’ll never get that stain out of his dinner jacket,” somebody else adds.