I can see Del frown in my mind’s eye. ‘Uh, yeah, annual gala for a bunch of judges and barristers.’
My whole being relaxes. Miller is not a judge, nor is he a barrister. I’m safe.
‘Should I wear black?’ I ask.
‘Yes.’ He sounds confused. ‘Seven o’clock start.’
‘Great. I’ll see you there.’ I hang up and throw myself in the shower.
I hurry into the staff entrance of the Pavilion and immediately find Del and Sylvie pouring champagne. ‘I’m here!’ I shrug off my denim jacket and ditch my satchel. ‘What should I do?’
Del smiles, then looks to Sylvie, a quiet acknowledgment passing between them at my unusual cheery mood. ‘Finish pouring, you sweet thing,’ he says, handing me a bottle and leaving me with Sylvie to finish up.
‘You okay?’ I ask Sylvie, commencing pouring duties.
Her black bob sways as she shakes her head on a smile. ‘You look . . . chirpy.’
I swiftly brush off her observation, refusing to let the smile fall from my face. ‘Life goes on,’ I say quickly before going for subject change. ‘How many posh people have we got to feed and water this evening?’
‘About three hundred. The reception is from eight until nine before they’ll all be pushed into the ballroom for dinner. We’ll pick up again at tennish when they’re done and the band starts.’ She places the empty bottle of champagne down. ‘Done. Let’s go.’
Despite my enthusiasm to distract myself with work, I don’t feel comfortable this evening. I’m gliding through the crowds, delivering canapés and champagne, but I feel uneasy. I don’t like it.
When the ma?tre d’ announces dinner, the room soon empties, leaving hundreds of cocktail napkins all over the posh marble floor. They might be people of the legal world, but they’ve littered this stunning room terribly. I rid myself of my tray and start making my way around the room, scooping up the rubbish and stuffing it into a black sack, even finding the remnants of canapés as I go.
‘You okay there, Livy?’ Del calls across the room.
‘Sure. They’re a messy bunch,’ I say, tying my full sack. ‘Do you mind if I use the toilets?’
He laughs, shaking his head. ‘What would you do if I said no?’
The question throws me. ‘Are you going to say no?’
‘God love you. Go to the bloody toilet, woman!’ My boss disappears back into the kitchen, leaving me to find the ladies’.
I take some stairs, following the signs, until I’m wandering down a long stretch of corridor, admiring the paintings flanking either side of me. They are all of historical kings and queens, the earliest being Henry VIII. I stop and take in the portly, bearded man in his later years, wondering, stupidly, what would possess a woman to venture there.
‘He’s not Miller Hart, is he?’
I swing around, coming face to face with Miller’s ‘business associate’. Cassie. What the hell is she doing here? She’s gazing at the picture thoughtfully, arms crossed over the bustier of a stunning silver gown, her glossy black hair tumbling over her shoulders.
‘And he may have been a busy boy in the bedroom, but not as busy as Miller.’ Her sly, hurtful words are like pins shoved viciously into the centre of my heart. ‘Is he as good as everyone claims?’ She turns her cocky expression to me, giving me the once-over with eyes full of satisfaction. I crumble a little, yet find a hidden strength to conceal it.
‘That depends on how good everyone claims he is,’ I retort, meeting her stare and matching her confidence. Her question quickly tells me that she’s asking because she doesn’t know herself, and that satisfies me too much.
‘Very good.’
‘Then they are very right.’
She barely retains her shock, pushing my confidence further. ‘I see,’ she says quietly, nodding mildly.
‘But I’ll tell you something for free.’ I step forward, feeling unreasonably superior with the knowledge that I’ve had him and Cassie hasn’t. I don’t give her the opportunity to ask what. I’m in my stride. ‘He makes love even better than he f**ks with restraints.’
She gasps, backing away from me, and it’s in this moment I comprehend the weight of Miller’s reputation. It makes me feel nauseous. Somehow, though, I manage to cling on to my sass.
‘If your plan was to try and shock me with news of Miller’s business, then it’s wasted bitchiness. I already know.’
‘Right,’ she says slowly, thoughtfully.
‘Are we done, or are you going to enlighten me of his rules, too?’
She laughs, but it’s a surprised laugh. I’ve shocked her even more, startled her with my assertiveness, and she wasn’t prepared for it, which is now making me smug. ‘I guess we’re done.’