“In a way, we are. Underglobe is directly beneath the Globe Theatre – in the daylight hours it houses Globe’s Shakespeare exhibition, but at night, it comes alive as one of London’s exclusive hidden events spaces. It’s really a unique space and very different from the Town House at Kensington where we usually host our more intimate events. This called for something a bit more dramatic.”
Looking up, I see thousands of tiny white, twinkling lights. “Oh, Piers! Look!” I point out two acrobats moving gracefully on large streamers suspended from the ceiling.
“It seems we got the dramatic part down.” He smiles. “We came in the secret river-side entrance, which, thanks to Scarlett’s PR team, wasn’t so secret. And hopefully, news of tonight’s event will be splashed all over the papers come morning, bringing attention to London Lost. That’s what it’s all about, for me anyway.” He squeezes my hand as we reach the bottom of the stairs.
“How many people were invited?” I look around, curious who else we might bump into.
“We sent out roughly 200 invitations, I think 175 came back as yeses. Others sent regrets and a check. Which is what we’re here for. I couldn’t care less whether we’re having Pave of halibut or Beef Wellington as long as we raise money for the kids. Although, I’m told the dessert selections this evening are to die for,” he whispers in my ear, and it does things to me, causing a flutter deep, down low in my stomach.
“Welcome, to A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Gala for the London Lost,” Shakespearian dressed men and women greet us; one even blows fire up into the air.
“Wow, so the location makes perfect sense now.” It’s hard not to get caught up in the whimsy of it all.
Piers finds our table and we take our seats just as he’s called up to give the opening remarks. I watch the man, who holds my heart...I’m filled with pride and focus on his poetic words about family and second chances when I feel someone sit next to me.
“He’s fantastic, isn’t he?” Scarlett’s voice purrs in my ear. “He was made to be a leader, but we’ve both always known that. He needs someone who can support him on that. Not hold him back.”
“What are you saying, Scarlett?” I glare at her.
“Nothing that he hasn’t already thought himself. You’re his past; you need to let go. I protected him from you then, and I’m trying to do it now. I can help him be the person he was meant to be.”
I’m about to stand up and knock her out of her chair when applause erupts around us. Piers. He is just finishing up his speech.
“You will only hold him back. You make him soft...weak,” she whispers before being called onto the stage with Piers. “Looks like he needs me.” She smugly smiles before walking towards the front to join him.
About that time, Theo returns from the bar and looks at me. “Are you okay, Willow?”
“Fine, thanks.” I just need to get some air. I politely excuse myself. I cannot sit through listening to Piers thank Scarlett for all of her hard work, formality or not; it makes me sick.
“I’ll have a club soda with raspberry, please,” I tell the barman.
“Rough night?” A raspy voice next to me asks with a chuckle.
“Something like that,” I offer as my drink is placed neatly in front of me on a blue napkin. Taking a sip, I explain. “I don’t drink. My parents were killed by a drunk driver, so it’s not a political statement. Just a choice.” I’m nervous and therefore rambling. When I turn to apologize for unloading on him, I see that he’s gone. Can’t say I blame him.
“There you are.” I feel Piers’ strong arm wrap around me, and he holds me close. “They are serving dinner. Care to join me and see what all the fuss is about?”
“I suppose.” I smile up at him.
Once seated, Piers jumps right into conversation. Thankfully, there are three other couples besides Scarlett and Theo at our table, so it helps that she’s across the table and not right next to me.
He introduces me, as an old friend, with a kiss to the cheek. My face flushes at the attention. I feel the death rays Scarlett shoots my way when Piers’ lips linger a second longer than necessary over my cheek. Theo picks up on her behavior and moves the conversation along.
Piers steps away from the table to talk with a few guests. I notice a couple of the wives at our table, who are much younger than their respective spouses, staring at Piers in a way that makes me...uncomfortable. I hate to say jealous; because am I? Is that what I am? Should I be? They look like plastic dolls. In fact, they could almost be twins. I’m so lost in thought that I don’t realize I’m staring, until one of them speaks to me.
“So, Willa? What is it that you do again?” Blonde number one, the duchess I think, asks me.
“I’m, uh. I—” I’m not sure; writing is something I don’t openly talk about. I prefer to keep my identity secret.
“She writes children’s books,” Scarlett interjects. Raising her glass of champagne in toast as if to say, you’re welcome. “Little fairy stories.”
The breath is nearly knocked out of my lungs. I’m so angry I could cry. I feel tears burning the back of my eyes. How could she know? When understanding dawns on me, she smiles and nods at me.
Taking a deep breath, I turn back towards the duchess or model, whatever she is. “Yes, I’m a writer and an illustrator of children’s books.”
“Like picture books?” Blonde number two asks.
“Yes, picture books. Do you have a particular favorite?” I smile and catch Theo nearly choking on his drink at the exchange.
“Reginald would never let me work outside of the home,” Blonde number one chimes in.
They must be satisfied with my answer because after shooting me dirty looks, they 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 me.
“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,” I humbly reply but appreciate his compliment nonetheless.
“What are we toasting?” Piers asks, reaching over and taking my hand in his. This whole touching each other thing is so new. I like it; it just feels different. Especially being able to show affection without worrying about someone seeing us.
“Willow’s success as a children’s author and illustrator.” Theo fills him in, and his eyes look to mine and widen before he glances at Scarlett and narrows them.
Looks like he did tell her. Unbelievable.
I try to pull my hand away from his hold, and he tightens his grip. “She’s very talented. I’ve seen some of her work.” His eyes never leave mine as he talks.
I wonder where? I’ve had no time to set up a studio here in London. But the way things are going, it looks like my permanent residence will be changing, so it’s probably a good idea to think about setting one up.
“Join me for a dance?” He stands holding out his hand. “Please?”
“I’d love to.” I put my hand in his, trying to live in the moment and see past the fact that he shared my secret. With her.
I look up in time to see Scarlett roll her eyes. “I need another drink.” She storms off. I’m relieved to see her go.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
WILLOW
He leads me out onto the dance floor, and I feel like I’m floating as the fabric swooshes at my feet when I walk. Lights like stars hang above. There’s even a massive oak tree replica in the corner. It’s set up to look like a garden with boxwood hedges and floral topiaries lining the edge. “It’s exquisite!” I whisper.
“You’re exquisite,” he replies as he spins me around and pulls me back in to his arms in a proper hold.
I tuck my chin against his chest, fearful some hurt may still linger in my eyes and don’t want to seem childish and ruin this moment, ruin his important night.
Lifting my chin, he studies my face. “You. Are. Exquisite. An
d talented and creative. That’s why I told her.” So he does know I’m upset. “I’m so proud of you. So please, don’t be cross with me, Willow. I would have never told her if I knew it would hurt you.”
I gently nod to let him know I understand, and I smile because I don’t trust my voice. I’m rather emotional this evening it would seem.
“If it makes a difference, I told her before I knew what she did.” We stop moving and he caresses my face.
“It does. Thank you for saying.” I press myself tighter to him and he continues to lead me around the floor.
I hear the first strands of Hoppipolla, and I lay my head against his chest as the music washes over me. We break traditional form, and he just holds me in his arms, a tender embrace as he twirls me, round and round. Slowly. Like we’re in a tiny jewelry box, protected from the world for a few stolen moments.
People keep moving around us, but it feels like it’s just him and me. They all fade away, and the room becomes a swirl of light and color. In his arms, there is only the rise and fall of the sound pouring from the strings, the steady beat of his heart beneath my cheek, and the feel of his hand over mine. I’m lost in this moment, never wanting to be found.
We stay this way until business pulls him away. It is after all his event, and I know a huge part of its success is his presence and the ability to schmooze.
After he introduces me to countless people, I sneak away for a quick break from the smiling and nodding. The rest of the evening has gone off without any more un-pleasantries. Until, I enter the lion’s den, otherwise known as the ladies’ powder room.
As I’m about to leave the stall to wash my hands, I hear the door open, and a group of women walk in, talking loudly.
“Can you believe her dress?” one asks, sounding horrified.
“Seriously. It had to be off the rack. Who does that? At the event of the year.” Another chimes in.
“She should have requested the vegetarian plate; with hips like that, she should avoid beef.”
“Totally,” they agree.
People are so horrible. Why would they talk about their peers that way?
“And red lips with red hair? No class. Who does that?”
Wait, what? Surely that’s a coincidence?
“Someone desperate enough to hold the attention of the most eligible bachelor in London, that’s who.”
“Piers won’t stay with her. I know; I’ve been there done that. Literally. He never comes back for seconds.”
Oh. My. God. They are talking about me.
“Best I’ve ever had,” Another one purrs.
I think I’m going to be sick.
“Ladies, ladies. Play nice.” That voice. Scarlett.
“Oh, she’s just jealous because she hasn’t had him yet.”
Tears burn my eyes, threatening to fall.
“Shut up,” she replies.
“Whatever, I’m heading back out to see if I can snag a dance while she’s not hanging all over him. Pathetic.”
I can’t breathe. I need to go. I’ll take a cab. Tell him Drew needs me. I can’t face those people, those horrid people, who said vile things about me and don’t even know me.
Drying my eyes with a tissue, I take a deep breath and open the stall door.
When I step out, I lock eyes with Scarlett and my heart stops.
“Don’t take it personal.” She looks me over before turning her back to me to look at herself in the mirror again. “They only hate you because they want him.”
“You knew I was in here the whole time?”
My head is spinning, and I take a seat on the edge of the nearest chaise.
“Your mask.” She holds up my mask from the counter where I left it laying while I went to the bathroom. “You really should be more careful. Leaving your stuff unattended, someone might take it when you’re not looking.”
I get her meaning loud and clear.
“And, you really should be careful because those are Swarovski crystals, and that mask wasn’t easy to find at the last minute. I should know, I’m the one that had to rush out to get it.”
She looks right at me when she says this. Direct hit.
“But they’re not wrong. You know that right?” She just won’t stop.
“After seeing you tonight, in this world with his people, he will know I’m the only right choice for him. I’ve waited years for him to need me as much as I need him. And he finally does. I’ll be the one by his side every day, working with him, under him, for him. And you’ll be back in the states, painting fairies and baking cookies where you belong.”
My mind is yelling obscenities, ripping her hair out and saying all the witty, comebacks. My mouth, however, is frozen, the words clawing to be spoken, but nothing comes out. Nothing.
She takes my silence as an invitation to continue her verbal assault, and I struggle to hold it together. Standing, I walk towards her, refusing to let her see me cry.
“He’s only with you because of Drew.” Her words are like daggers in my heart. Every one cutting deep, slowly breaking me. “Playing house is a fun way to pass the time. But when he’s ready for someone to stand by his side, to run his empire, he knows where I’ll be.”
No, she did not just drag my son into this.
She blots her lips in the mirror and turns just as my palm connects with her cheek.
Her mouth hangs open in shock, and her hand flies to her face. “You—”
I run my stinging palm against my dress, anger boiling in my blood. “No, you listen to me. And listen good. Breeding and manners be damned, don’t you ever, EVER, talk about my son again. Don’t suggest he is the only reason Piers is sticking around. Don’t pretend to care about him. Not when you’re part of the reason he didn’t know his father.”
“What are you talking about?” she asks in disbelief.
“That night I called, I begged to talk to Piers. I was calling to tell him that I was pregnant.” I feel tears start to fall, so I breathe deep and blink them back. “But you told me how he forgot me, moved on. You even put him on the phone, pissed out of his mind, and he didn’t know who I was. You never told him I called. You made me believe he had moved on. With you.”
Now it’s her turn to be silent and take a seat while I pace.
“That’s right. It’s my fault for leaving, that’s not on you, but lying to me is. And Piers knows; it’s only a matter of time before he asks you about it.”
Her eyes find mine, and I see fear.
“I pity you. Really, I do. So desperate for love and affection that you’ll steal it...what was that you said? Oh yeah, when no one is looking. Well newsflash, Scarlett. I’m looking, I’m watching, and I’ll keep seeing you and every sneaky move you make. I may not be able to get rid of you, but you can bet your arse I won’t make the mistake of turning my head again.”
Picking up my mask, I put it back on, and now it’s my turn to look in the mirror. I see someone who’s been hurt but who isn’t going down without a fight.
Walking past her, I make my exit, my head held high. “Lovely party Scarlett, you’ve really outdone yourself.”
“If you don’t believe this is about Drew, then ask him about the loophole that frees you from staying to jointly inherit,” she whispers.
She stops me in my tracks. “Excuse me?”
“I take it he didn’t tell you after all? I warned him about keeping secrets.” She sighs, looking rather pleased with herself.
“Go to hell.” I brush past her.
“Just ask him,” she calls after me.
When the door closes behind me, the first tear falls, and I brush it away. I need to find Piers.
Ironically enough, he finds me first.
“Willow, are you okay?” He touches my arms. “Is Drew okay? I was worried. No one had seen you. Theo thought you came this way. Scarlett has disappeared. She’s behaving very strangely.”
“I’m fine.” I look past him, afraid he will be able to tell I’m lying. I’m anything but f
ine. My instinct is to question him, but I don’t. This isn’t the time or place. “I’m sure Drew is doing great. I’m ready to go. I’m just really exhausted.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, concern lacing his voice.
“Piers, I can call for a taxi; really it’s okay. You stay. I don’t want to rush you. I know how important this night is to you.”
“Willow.” He touches my face. “You’re more important. I’ll have the car brought around. Let me say a few quick goodbyes. Would you like to come with me?” He’s so attentive, it breaks my heart thinking about the things Scarlett said.
“I’ll meet you at the table and grab my things.” I force a smile.
When I get back to the table, there is no sign of Scarlett, thankfully. On the table, next to my clutch is a strip of photos. Picking it up, I see it’s the photo booth images. They must have passed out the prints.
Four images, one amazing night. After all that’s transpired, it feels like these were taken ages ago, not merely hours. In the first, we are both smiling at the camera, holding up a sign that says #masquerade; in the second one, we are making silly faces. The third shows us looking at each other, laughing, and the forth one is the one that makes my heartbeat pound in my ears.
I’m looking at the camera with a huge smile on my face, but Piers is looking at me, smiling. And what I see on his face tells me all I need to know.
CHAPTER TWENTY
PIERS
Willow is mostly quiet on the drive home. She lets me hold her hand; she even leans her head against me in the back of the car. But there’s something amiss.
The farther we get away from the gala, the further I feel her drifting away from me. Maybe I pushed her too soon, going out, being in the public eye. Normally, I try to fly under the radar as much as possible. I prefer to keep my private life just that. I don’t play the name game, the flashy look at me nonsense. It’s not who I am. Not when I came from nothing, and I know how quickly it all could be taken away.
Happy Ever Never (Written in the Stars Book 1) Page 14
