Page 43 of London’s Calling, Part 1 (London’s Calling)

Chapter Forty-Three

Roni

I stand in the middle of the ballroom, trying to admire the stunning decorations, but all I can think about is how sick I feel. My eyes fill with tears, but I suck in a breath and will them not to fall for fear they’ll ruin my make-up.

Such a ridiculous thing to be concerned about considering what tonight is going to bring.

There’s going to be plenty of time for tears later.

Right now, I need to look the part. I need to keep it together, get through the next couple of hours, then I can break.

I shake off the heavy melancholy that’s settled inside me and stroll around the room, checking everything is ready for the guests.

Fuck, I wish I could have a drink, a line of coke—who am I kidding a whole bag of it wouldn’t be able to help me.

And I don’t have that luxury right now. Trust me, the thought crossed my mind.

No baby means no leverage. But I can’t do it.

It might have only been hours since I discovered the life I’m carrying inside me, but it’s long enough to know I’d never hurt a child, my child—our child. A child Mickey will never know about.

Inner me is screaming “Fuck you all!” at the top of her lungs and destroying everything in this room. The corporeal me is numb, smiling at the right moment, speaking without true thought or emotion, just existing.

Nothing like a reality check to make you realise your true feelings. At the exact moment you realise you unknowingly gave your heart away, that you could have a different life, a better one, it’s ripped away from you in the blink of an eye.

Chatter behind me has me turning to see the first guests arriving. I’m out of time. The corners of my mouth turn up in a smile, and I almost don’t feel the strain of it. Like I said, numb.

As the room fills, I begin to realise there are more people here than I planned, most of them are associates of my father and Clayton. That sick feeling in my gut twists sharply, a warning, a foreshadowing of what’s to come since my father revealed his plans.

“Roni,” screams a voice behind me, and I almost break when Haydn spins me, wrapping me in a tight hug. “Happy birthday, beautiful!”

“Thanks,” I choke out as she gives me a last squeeze before releasing me.

“Wow, this place looks fucking amazing!” she says, turning on the spot to take in the entire room. “Is that a—”

“A vodka luge? Yeah.” I manage a true smile at the look on her face.

“Bitch, that’s insane. I’m going to have to give that a go.” She holds up a bag. “Gifts?”

“There’s a table over there,” I say, pointing in the direction of a table laden with gifts I don’t need or even want.

“I’m going to put this over there, maybe swing by the luge on my way to the bar. I’ll see you in a bit.” She waves as she walks away.

It’s been an hour since the first guests arrived and there’s still no sign of Mickey. Maybe he’s changed his mind.

Please have changed your mind.

I’m standing by the buffet table when Angelina finds me. “This is wonderful, Veronica. You did a fabulous job.”

“Thank you. How is Mr Simmonds doing?”

“He’s much the same, and please, Clayton Senior is fine, no need for such formality when you’re going to be our daughter in law soon.”

“Of course,” I manage to say around the lump in my throat. I look away for a second to compose myself only to gasp as my eyes meet Mickey’s. I drop my gaze instantly, explaining to Angelina that I need to check on something and make my escape as Mickey walks my way.

I don’t look at him or look back as I slip into the crowd, praying he doesn’t follow. I’m not ready. Not ready to face him and see the look on his face when I say what I need…it is in no way a need or a want. It is a must if I want to protect myself long enough to have this baby. After that…

I burst into a side room as panic grips me. I lean against it, my head hitting it with a thump. Pushing away from the door, I march forward, sucking in breaths with a hand on my stomach. Just as I get my breathing under control and stave off the desire to throw up, the door opens behind me.

“There’s the birthday girl. I thought you said Clayton wasn’t invited,” Mickey says as the snick of the door closing echoes in the room.

Get it together, Roni. Be brave.

I turn and face him, forcing a smile that quickly morphs into a real one when I see how handsome he looks in his tux.

I’ve seen him in a tux before, but I didn’t see him then.

My eyes were deceived by a blanket of hate.

I still hate him, but not for the same reasons.

I hate him for making me care, for stealing my heart while I was busy looking for a way to break him. Now I have it, I don’t want it anymore.

“Look at you,” I say, straightening and smoothing the lapels of his jacket and running my hands down the front of him.

“Oh no, Ice Queen, look at you. You look fucking ravishing.” He steps forward and cups my face, staring intently into my eyes.

It takes everything to hold his stare. To not look away in shame and guilt, but when his lips meet mine in a kiss so perfect and sweet and gentle, the first ventricle of my heart floods with sorrow.

I can’t hold back the tear that slips slowly down my cheek, rolling over his thumb as he holds my face in his hands.

He pulls back, taking in my face again. “Hey”—he swipes the tear away—“what’s with the tears?”

I grip his wrists, his hands still cupping my face gently, willing my next words to come out strong.

“Happy tears…silly,” I manage, pulling his hands away to hug him, burying my face in the crook of his neck.

I breathe him in, locking his unique scent in my memory bank.

I kiss the side of his neck, each one an apology he’ll never understand.

“Damn, Roni!” he whispers into my hair, kissing my temple. “I need to tell you something. I have to say it now. I—” His words cut off sharply as my phone rings in the small pocket I had sown into my dress.

I release him, stepping back and pull my phone free. “Shit, I have to go.” I shove the phone back in my pocket without answering it, and a second later it chimes with a message. I don’t need to look to know what it says. I look up at him, and I know he’s desperate to speak, but I get there first.

“You don’t need to say it. I know.” I can’t bring myself to say the words, so I kiss him. I kiss him for the final time knowing after this, whatever happens, he’ll never forgive me, then I rush from the room.