Page 14 of Worth Every Moment (Hawkston Billionaires #4)

But now, having Harriet dangling off my arm while Erica is on the other side of the room and we aren’t speaking, it matters. Inviting a date and hoping Erica might notice, or, better yet, be jealous, is downright dirty and manipulative. And I don’t want to be that guy.

Besides, Erica probably wouldn’t even care.

Fuck it . I’m tired of pretending that she isn’t the only one I want, that I’m unmoved, that my sex life is progressing as normal when really it’s ground to a fucking halt because she’s not talking to me and the health of my friendship with her has far more influence over my life than I’d previously acknowledged.

I need to get things back on track with her.

A man’s raised voice filters through the party. It’s out of keeping with the happy chatter that preceded it. I’m immediately alert. I turn to see that damn designer making a scene, yelling at someone out of sight. My first thought is Erica .

“Excuse me,” I say to Harriet, “but there’s someone I need to check on.” Her eyes widen, silently begging an explanation, and I restrain the urge to rush off. “I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t think my friend was in trouble.”

She nods. “That’s okay. I’ll wait here.”

I clench a fist, hidden at my side. She deserves the truth, so I give it her.

“You don’t have to wait. I’ve brought you here under false pretenses.

I’m not available for a relationship of any kind.

I’m so sorry. You deserved better than this.

” I bow my head, wishing I hadn't vomited the words like I'd been struggling to hold them in all night.

“Oh, Seb. I—”

Raising a hand, I cut her off with a gentle, “Please. Enjoy the rest of your evening. There’s plenty more to see, but if you don’t want to stay, my driver is outside. He’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

To her credit, she takes it well, and the tension in my shoulders loosens as I head in Dominic’s direction. Not my finest moment, but at least I was honest with her.

I get a view of Erica, standing opposite the designer, looking altogether too passive for someone who’s being screamed at.

“You selfish bitch, how could you do this to me?” Dominic squeals. Red-hot rage rises through me. How dare he speak to her this way?

Without stopping to think, I push through the crowd, but I’m still a fair distance away when Dominic throws his champagne over Erica, soaking the front of the silk dress.

“That’s the last dress of mine you’ll ever wear,” he yells, before turning and storming towards the exit.

By the time I reach Erica, Dominic has vanished, escorted from the premises by security. She’s surrounded by women attempting to comfort her, but I shove through until I’m right at the front.

“You really like to make a scene, Lefroy,” I say, and she smiles before she’s even looked at me.

God, that smile is something else. I know it’s all forgiven from our last encounter.

We’ll probably never talk about what happened when she threw me out, or why we haven’t spoken. Maybe she never even fucking noticed.

Maybe all this is in my head.

“And you really like to be there when I do,” she says, with a bitterness that’s all pretense. It’s more like a private joke, and internally I’m jumping up and down that I get to share it with her.

“I love it.” I put my arm around her shoulder.

She folds into me, resistance melting. She fits so perfectly under my arm that I don’t know why the hell she doesn’t just want to stay there.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” I have no clue how I’m actually going to do that, but any excuse to get Erica on her own works for me.

“You coming to the ladies’ with me?” she teases.

“Aren't the bathrooms all gender neutral in these places now? So yes, I’m coming with you.”

“I’m okay.” She tugs at her dress. “It’ll be dry in a moment. Stained, but dry. Let’s go get another drink instead.”

There’s no way I’m letting her wriggle out of a moment alone with me. “I’d rather you were comfortable first.”

“I am comfortable.”

I draw back to peer at her. “You’re not upset? That madman was screaming at you.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, no. That’s just Dominic. It’s his way. It’s annoying because it doesn’t do much for my brand.” I’m the one restraining my eye roll now. Her bloody brand . “But I was expecting it, to be honest. I should have told him in private.”

“Told him what?”

“That I’m quitting modelling. I had to work up to it because I knew exactly how he’d take it.” She glances at the stain on her dress. “I thought telling him in public might keep him in check. Stupid of me. But I finally did it.”

Her words catch me off guard and I halt, turning to face her, unable to control the surprise that must be scrawled across my face. “You’re quitting? But you…” are the hottest woman on planet Earth . “Is it the acting? Can’t you do both? Loads of actresses do modelling campaigns.”

“I want to do something different,” Erica says matter-of-factly.

“I’ve been doing this for over a decade.

And I’m getting older, you know? I have to make plans for the future.

Acting can sustain me for longer.” She grips my arm, an inner light shining through her eyes.

“I’m really excited to see where it takes me. ”

“Oh.” Dread filters through my veins like ice, and as much as I want to match her enthusiasm, I can’t. Please say it doesn’t take you away from me . We continue walking, and the crowd filters out. Soon I’ll have her all to myself.

“What about your date?” Erica asks, glancing around as if she’s just noticed we’re alone.

Something warm stirs beneath my ribs, replacing the chill. She noticed. There’s no way I can admit that I ditched my date at the mere thought that Erica might be in trouble, so I mutter , “Fuck my date.”

Erica does one of those fake gasps, striking her hand to her chest. “I’ll leave that to you, thank you very much. And before you ask.” A cheeky glint gleams in her eyes. “No, I don’t want to watch.”

My smile must be insanely big right now, and I let out a laugh that probably looks totally incongruous to anyone outside of me and Erica. She’s just been yelled at and soaked in champagne. It makes no sense for me to be laughing, but when I look over at her, she’s grinning too.

“Are we okay?” I ask, unable to resist asking for confirmation.

“Yeah. I’m sorry I threw you out that night.”

I shrug. “Throw me out anytime. I’ll always come back for more.”

“Masochist,” she says, a barely repressed smile on her lips.

“For you, yeah,” I joke.

She stops and places her hand over mine, making my heart skip a beat. “I missed you.”

My heart swells. “Missed you too.”

For a few seconds that linger too long, we stare at one another, and I sink into the present, wishing it could last forever.

Erica blinks. “But really, you shouldn’t leave your date.”

I dip my head to recalibrate. “We won’t be gone long. Harriet will be fine.”

Erica’s gaze drifts from mine. “Harriet,” she repeats quietly, which makes me frown.

We pass a few smaller exhibitions on the way to the bathrooms, and an idea strikes me.

“When was the last time you saw your Claudia Kirchwood photo shoot?” I ask.

Claudia is one of the most famous fashion photographers in the world, and the shoot she did when Erica was eighteen became iconic.

Black and white images of Erica dancing in an empty ballroom.

It was part of an advertising campaign for a perfume, but the photos subsumed the campaign, taking on their own legendary quality.

Romantic, ethereal, with an edge of intangible sadness.

The same sadness that drew me to Erica in the first place.

Even when she’s with me and she’s smiling, I can still see it in her eyes.

Kind of haunted. I shake the thought off.

She muses. “I don’t know. A few months after we did it. Maybe six or seven years ago?”

I take Erica’s hand. “Come with me.”

I lead her to the lift, relishing the feel of her hand in mine, and press the button with the other.

The gallery’s closed to the public tonight, and we shouldn’t be up here, but no one’s around.

I know exactly where the exhibit is because I’ve followed it around the world. And right now, it’s here in London.

We enter the gallery, and I switch on the lights. The exhibit has been perfectly curated. Around the walls, the enormous prints of Erica are spotlit in golden light.

“Oh, wow,” she breathes, releasing my hand and walking slowly to the middle of the room, scanning each picture in turn. “I didn’t know these were here.”

I linger by the door, taking in the sight of her staring at the iconic images, and a heavy ache settles in my chest. Is it really awful not to come out and tell her how much I want her?

Am I a total fucking arsehole for keeping it from her?

I don’t want to risk it and lose everything, but wouldn’t it be better to tell her the truth?

I pace to stand beside her, my heart pounding. “Erica, there’s something I—”

“I forgot what these were like,” she murmurs dreamily, cutting me off and reminding me that I brought her here so she could have this experience.

I can’t trespass across it with my own feelings.

“Time is such a funny thing, isn’t it? I can remember posing for these like it was yesterday.

I’d never be where I am today without this shoot.

Without Arthur Knatchbull. He’s the head of the luxury goods conglomerate that paid for this shoot. Did you know that?”

Of course I fucking knew . He’s only one of the biggest businessmen in the world. “Yes. I knew that.”

“He picked me out of obscurity. It was him, choosing me from a hundred other young models, that changed everything. Before that, I was a catalogue model. High Street stuff. But after this shoot, I started earning real money. I was able to leave home. Buy my own apartment. I owe him my career. My life. Everything.” She scratches at her eyebrow.

“Actually, it was my mother who took my portfolio to him in the first place. She got me the job. I have no idea how she got access to such a powerful man when I was a nobody at the time. Anyway, it was fate, I guess. And together, Mum and Arthur Knatchbull gave me my big break. I’ll be indebted to them forever.

” Her mother ? That’s what she told her ?

Erica gestures around the room, blinking as though there are tears welling.

She pinches the bridge of her nose and rubs at the corners of her eyes.

“Sorry, you were going to say something?”

Having Erica’s full attention on me once more sucks the air from my lungs, making me forget my annoyance that her mother is claiming credit for her success.

She assesses me, whatever contemplative sadness she was feeling seeming to disintegrate as she laughs softly.

“You’re not going to ask me out again , are you?

” The joke is off-hand, as though she knows I’d never seriously ask her out so there’s no danger in the teasing.

I wish I could meet her in that space where it’s funny to think I might ask her out, but I can’t laugh.

All I experience is the sensation of my stomach dropping.

She sits on the huge velvet banquette. I sit beside her, trying to conceal the fact that her ridiculing tone has stirred up my insides.

I brush my hair off my forehead with one hand. “I wasn't.”

“Phew.” She gives me a pointed look. “That would be terribly poor form, considering Harriet is waiting for you downstairs.”

I'm pretty sure Harriet will have scarpered. “Actually—”

A noise outside cuts me off. Someone’s coming.

“In here,” comes a woman’s voice, and I know without a doubt they’re coming into this gallery.

I don’t know why I do it, but a sudden impulse has me pulling Erica down off the banquette, the two of us crouching there on the floor in the semi-dark, hiding.

“Kill the lights,” a male voice says, and we’re plunged into darkness.