Page 8

Willow

The gala was in full swing. Having planned the seating arrangements myself, I was at the table with Jack, Mike, and a couple of agents from Lambert & Johnsons.

We shared light-hearted gossip, conversation, and drink during our first two courses whilst the silent auction winners were announced.

Jack won the bid for a luxury holiday in Bali while Mike had won a flying session, no achievement given he was the only one to bid.

We were now waiting for our final course – the dessert.

Through every conversation and joke, I felt green eyes burning into the back of my head. I’d turned a few times, finding Cain instantly, offering him a well-intended smile and finger-wiggle wave, only for it to be returned with a glare.

Had it been my intention to keep myself away from my miserable boyfriend? No comment.

The waiting staff seamlessly served apple rose puffs with dulce-de-leche cream table by table. As the desserts were dispersed throughout the room, Jack and Mike were called to the stage, a wave of applause rippled through the room.

“If I have to go up there, you’re coming with me.” Jack pulled me out of my chair.

As I stumbled after him, brushing my dress into place and brushing loose hairs behind my ears, I was reminded of the fifteen tables-worth of attendees as unblinking eyes stared up at me.

Mike took to the microphone and the applause calmed.

“Good evening, everyone. Thank you for joining us tonight for the annual Estate Gala.” He smiled softly, looking around the room. After a short pause, he continued with his soft Geordie accent comforting us all.

“After only five years of running the gala, I think it’s fair to say we’re humbled by the attendance and commitment to make Newcastle Upon Tyne a better place.

Through your individual donations and bids in the silent auctions, each year we’ve been able to help thousands of individuals across the area improve their livelihoods and futures. ”

He turned back in search of Jack and cocked his head to the front of the stage, encouraging Jack to join him. Jack threw me a nervous smile, before stepping to join his best friend and pulling a piece of paper from his pocket.

“As you all know,” Jack took over, “the purpose of tonight’s event was to raise money for Sanctuary.

Sanctuary is a local charity whose goal is to combat homelessness.

They offer training, employment, shelter and a future for those who would otherwise struggle to remain off the streets, out of addiction and live the dreams they believe to be far from reach.

Thanks to you all, I’m delighted to announce that tonight we have raised” —he pulled an envelope from his breast pocket, opening it smoothly— “a total of ￡37,800.”

A round of applause echoed throughout the room, some cheers, too. Once the celebrations calmed, Jack continued.

“There’s one person we’d like to thank before we go and leave you to enjoy your night.

For the last five years, they have worked tirelessly to plan these events.

You absolutely wouldn’t be enjoying apple rose puffs if either of us had planned tonight.

” Another ripple of laughter. “So please raise your class for the one who is actually in charge around here, Willow Thornton.”

I hadn’t expected to be included in their speech, and public attention was not my forte, so when one of Mike’s hands took mine and his other was placed on my back to encourage me forward, my stomach plummeted.

Jack stepped to one side until I was front and centre. My face reddened beneath my makeup as I glanced around the room, willing the stage to swallow me up.

As the applause calmed, I glared at Jack with a tight smile and silently begged for him to get me off the stage. He laughed at my discomfort and laid a palm on my lower back where the skin warmed, guiding me off stage. Mike provided his thanks and turned to follow us.

Before we could move further, a commotion from the crowd drew our attention. We turned in a domino effect and when I found the source of the disturbance, my heart, breathing, and body stopped all at once.

Rushing through the crowd with his dinner jacket flapping, and a smarmy Cheshire cat grin plastered over his face, was Cain. He swept past tables, making his way up the steps to the stage. Heads turned and my boss’ gazes bouncing between each other, then me. All I could do was stare in horror.

Cain took the place at the microphone under the bright white spotlight, beaming at everyone. The hum of confusion didn’t disperse until he tapped the grille, causing painful screeches in feedback.

“Hi everyone.” He spoke with a natural smarmy whine, the one he used to impress.

“Just a moment of your time, please. Some of you know me, most don’t.

I’m Cain Heller, an agent with KeyChain Properties— ” I winced, clamping my eyes shut as his self-promotion made me cringe, a peacock flaunting his plume despite his being incredibly ugly.

The more he talked about himself, the more my stomach churned.

“I’m thankful to Jack and Mike, their thanks for the planning of this event brings me on to my main point.

” He sauntered up to me and grasped my wrists, firmly and tighter than anyone would notice.

Yanking me to the microphone, he placed me directly in the spotlight, my eyes wide like a deer in headlights and body frigid, he continued, “I’m not sure if you all know, but this exceptional young lady and I have been in a relationship for nine years” —wrong.

It had been seven, long-as-fuck years. But that was further evidence that Cain couldn’t see past the end of his nose— “ working in the same industry, then shacking up together.” He pulled me to his side.

I glared at him, shock and frustration apparent on my face, as he’d pressed his fingers hard into my skin. Where some could woo, his skill was being able to find the old bruises to make them worse.

“So, after all this time, and with you all here to celebrate the occasion with us, I’d like to take the opportunity to solidify our relationship.”

As if in slow motion, he removed his arm from around my waist, pulled back and turned to face me.

Then, he dropped to one knee until he was peering up at me from under his dark, furrowed brow, smirking at me, a non-verbal warning. He tugged my hand into his as the other moved to the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a small grey box.

Fuck .

No.

Nope.

Absolutely fucking not .

My heart stopped completely, my ears ringing and skin burning with heat and sweat. This is not how I ever envisioned this unravelling.

Away from the microphone, he turned his head up to face me with a deceiving smile, popped open the box to reveal a plain band and asked the question I hoped he’d never ask.

“Little Willow, will you marry me?”