“Hi,” I say, shaking every hand that’s offered to me.
“Annie, this is Rick.” Colin introduces me to a stocky man with gray hair and an impressive moustache. “I know you’re technically off duty tonight, but he’d love to talk to you about a property he’s thinking of buying.”
Rick smiles brightly at me. “Annie, pleasure to meet you.” His shake is solid; his huge sausage fingers completely wrap around my hand.
“Pleasure, Rick. Tell me about this property.”
“It’s a historical building. Protected.” He almost grumbles, clearly not impressed by that. “Off Grosvenor Square. What can I do with it?”
I laugh. “Not a lot. Is it derelict?”
“Completely.”
“Renovations will be welcome, but English Heritage will be watching like a hawk. Materials will be specified, demolition a total no-go, and specialist tradesmen will need to be drafted in.”
“What are you saying?” Rick asks, looking rather displeased.
“I’m saying it’ll cost you an arm and a leg. But you might be eligible for a grant from English Heritage to help with the financial burden. It’s worth looking into.”
He laughs loudly, taking a swig of scotch. “Maybe I’ll rethink that idea. It sounds stressful. So, tell me, where did you get your inspiration for this place?” He motions around the garden, up to the roof. I have to say, it looks bloody amazing, everything I hoped it would be.
I smile and let myself get pulled into conversation about work. It’s a welcome reprieve from my racing mind. Where is Jack?
*
Richard finds me when I’m inside getting a refill, and I motion down his front. “This is a nice change,” I say, smiling at his suit.
He laughs and gets a new glass for himself. “It’s been a job and a half, but well worth it, I’m sure you’ll agree.” He looks up to the roof, and so do I.
“It was the best and worst design move I’ve ever made.” This roof has caused me more stress than most projects in their entirety.
“Jack had every faith in you,” he muses, dropping his eyes back to me.
I sip my champagne, not knowing what I’m supposed to say to that. So I smile awkwardly, looking around the room. “He’s not here?” I try to sound casual, but I know I’ve failed when Richard shakes his head a little.
“He’s been held up,” he replies quietly.
I glance at him, fighting to keep cool. He’s been held up? I don’t like the knowing in Richard’s expression. It’s as if he’s trying to tell me something without actually saying it out loud. Why is he held up? What’s happened? I contemplate rushing to the toilets to text him or e-mail him, but I know that would be stupid. Stephanie seemed upbeat earlier during that awful encounter with her. But that’s what the outside world sees. I know it’s not all rosy behind closed doors.
Suddenly fretful, I empty my glass in one gulp and grab another. “I hope he makes it,” I murmur weakly, backing up. “Excuse me, I need the ladies’.” I turn on my heels but get no farther than that. My hands immediately begin to shake. My eyes are fixed on the entrance into the gallery where Jack is standing.
With his wife.
“Annie!” Stephanie sings, delighted to see me, like I’m her best friend. She grabs a glass of wine from the waiter and literally throws it down her throat before claiming another. “I thought you said you were out with your girlfriends.” She struts over and plants a peck on my cheek, and my skin literally crawls.
I risk a quick glance at Jack. His face is grave, the twinkle in his eyes dead.
“I’m not staying for long,” I murmur. “Heading uptown to meet them soon.” The night I’ve been looking forward to for days and days vanishes before my eyes. I’m totally devastated.
“How lovely.” Stephanie frees me and moves on to Richard, who is eyeing Jack with all the concern he deserves. “Hello, Richard.”
“Stephanie,” he says, smiling tightly through a nod. “You look stunning as always.”
Her palm hits her chest, her red lips pouting. “You’re too kind.”
Yes, he is. She looks like a dog’s dinner, dressed to the nines, her body draped in a long satin dress that’s fit for the opera house, not a gallery. Jack moves in, swallowing hard. “Annie.” He nods formally at me and smiles mildly at Richard, taking what looks like a much-needed drink. I’m desperate to ask him what’s happened. Why is she here? What the hell is going on?
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Stephanie gushes, stopping another waiter as he passes and exchanging her empty for a full glass. “I mean, really wonderful.” She raises her glass and toasts the air. “To my husband.”
This is fucking awful. “To Jack.” Richard chinks her glass, and I follow suit, mentally planning my escape.
“And Annie,” Jack pipes up, making my eyes go all wide. “We only built what she told us to.”
I feel my spine stiffen. “Thank you.” I swallow and dive back into my champagne. It’s the only thing keeping me going right now.
“Of course.” Stephanie places her well-manicured hand on Jack’s arm, and my eyes involuntarily fall to it, silently screaming at her to not touch him. “Annie, Jack’s been so impressed with you.”
I shoot Jack a look, shocked. He’s been talking about me? Is he stupid? “It’s just a job.” I brush it off as best I can.
“Annie and I are going to make plans for lunch!” Stephanie sings, clearly thrilled. I, however, am the furthest from thrilled that a person could be, and Jack looks plain horrified.
I’ve got to get out of here. I look past Stephanie’s beaming face, feigning surprise. “Oh, there’s Gerrard.” I pluck a name from nowhere and point to the garden. “Please excuse me; I must say hello.”
I’m out of there like a shot, walking outside and finding a group of people to muscle in on. The voices in the conversation are a blur of nothing. I try to engage, to listen, just to stop my mind from racing and my eyes from wandering, but no matter how hard I try to focus, my head has other ideas. I glance back casually and see a few more people have joined Jack, Richard, and Stephanie, all engrossed in conversation. Jack’s there, but he isn’t, as Stephanie drapes herself all over him, stroking his arm, smiling up at him every so often, and throwing glass after glass of wine down her throat. I can’t bear it.
Breaking away from the group, I find my phone and text Lizzy, asking her where they are.
“I couldn’t get out of it.” Jack’s voice hits the base of my spine and licks its way to the top, making me shiver. But not in the way it usually does, when I get tingles and have to take a breath and contain my need to devour him. He rounds me and puts himself before me, searching my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“She insisted on coming. What could I do?”
I shake my head and move away from him, watchful and wary of our surroundings. “I don’t know,” I admit. “Jack, you have to talk her out of arranging lunch with me.”