CHAPTER TEN
Uh-oh. I’ve only got one shoe.
I can’t believe I left the house without checking I had both shoes in my bag. Who only packs one shoe?! I knew I had the charity ball tonight and that I’d be going straight from work, so why didn’t I get myself organized last night?!
Now I’m in the toilet at work wearing the gorgeous new emerald-green plunge-neck dress I bought especially for the occasion, with my hair fabulously blow-dried, for which I stepped out at lunch, prompting a stink eye and sarcastic comment about work ethic from Cosmo, and all my makeup carefully reapplied … and only one shoe.
I don’t have time to go home before the event, so I’m going to have to hope that someone in the office has a spare pair of heels lying around that just so happen to be my size. Shoving my lone heel back in my bag, I exit the cubicle, check my appearance, and, satisfied except for the footwear situation, make my way through the open-plan office to the magazine corner.
“Wow!” Mimi gasps, swiveling in her office chair to take in my new dress as I approach her. “You look hot. That dress!” She lowers her voice. “Your boobs look amazing.”
“It’s a push-up bra.”
“Liam is a lucky guy. Is he coming here first?”
“No, I said I’d meet him there. Hey, do you have any shoes I can borrow?”
“Sorry?”
“I only brought one shoe to wear tonight.”
She laughs. “Of course you did.”
“Any chance you have a pair of heels lurking in one of these drawers?”
“I actually do.”
I brighten. “Really?”
“Yes, for emergencies.”
“You have a pair of heels in your desk drawer for emergencies?” I tease.
She sighs. “What would you call your current predicament, Harper?”
I hesitate before glumly admitting, “An emergency.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t help you, because I’m pretty sure you’re a size five and I’m a size four.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot you had freakishly small feet.”
“Dainty feet,” she corrects. “Maybe someone else here will have a spare pair.”
I turn to address the rest of the team. “Does anyone have a pair of heels I could borrow? Preferably in a size five so they fit?”
My colleagues glance up from their screens and shake their heads apologetically.
“Fashion team, please say we have some in the cupboard yet to be returned from a shoot?”
“Afraid not,” comes the reply. “We packaged and returned everything yesterday.”
Cosmo emerges from his office studying a travel layout and slowly makes his way over to Mimi’s desk wearing a confused expression.
“Mimi, talk me through why anyone would want to go on a … literary trail for an entire week? Is this appealing to our readers?” he asks.
“Absolutely,” she replies confidently. “I think a lot of people would be interested in seeing sights and country houses that are linked to celebrated authors.”
“Hmm,” he says, unconvinced, passing the layout back to her. “All right, keep it in, but make it much shorter and let’s give that leading story to something a bit sexier. A picture of a nice turquoise sea or something, rather than all these fields.”
“I thought it might be nice to mix it up a bit, though. The picture on this page always seems to be a sparkling blue sea. Don’t you think it would be a good idea to try something different?” she says hopefully.
“I think readers dream of escaping to a beach, not the English countryside that a lot of them live in already,” he insists. “Let’s keep to the ocean, please.”
She mutters, “Sure,” through gritted teeth.
He suddenly notices me.
“Oh yes, it’s that cancer research charity ball this evening,” he says, his eyes running down my outfit and landing on my bare feet. “You’re not wearing any shoes.”
“Not right now, no.”
“I assume you intend to.”
“Eventually, yes. But unfortunately, I’ve only got the one on me.”
“One what?”
“Shoe.”
“You only have one shoe.” He lets out a long, weary sigh. “Why does that not surprise me, Harper?”
“I can only apologize for being so predictable. You don’t have any spare heels lurking in your office, do you, Cosmo?”
He looks appalled. “I beg your pardon.”
“Worth a shot. If you—”
I stop midsentence on seeing Ryan approaching our corner. He’s wearing a full-on tux and is busy fiddling with one of the cuffs of his shirt, sorting his cuff links, I think, before bringing his eyes up to meet mine. His eyebrows lift in surprise before the corner of his mouth twitches into a smile.
“Nice dress,” he comments.
“Nice tux,” I reply. “I forgot you were going tonight.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
I snort. “You hate black tie.”
“I can put up with it for one night.”
“Great to have you attending tonight, Jansson,” Cosmo declares, patting him on the arm. “The crowd will be a real mix of who’s who. Lucky we have someone like you there to bag us some good interviews, eh? I best be off, I have a dinner reservation.”
I glare as he bustles away, while Ryan has the decency to look embarrassed. When he’s gone, Ryan puts his hands in his pockets and looks at me expectantly.
“If you want to put your shoes on, Harper, we can share a taxi.”
“I can’t put my shoes on. I only have one.”
He blinks at me. “What?”
“You can go on ahead and I’ll see you there,” I sigh, pulling my trainers back out from my bag. “I need to stop by a shoe shop on the way to buy some heels.”
“Okay, well, if you’re quick, I might as well come with you,” Ryan offers, checking his watch. “We have time, and it’s not so fun showing up alone to these things. I’ll just grab my things from my desk.”
He strolls away, and as I slip on my trainers, I notice Mimi giving me a funny look.
“What?” I ask.
“How do you know he doesn’t like black tie events?” she whispers.
“I don’t know.” I shrug, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. “He must have mentioned it when I was talking about going to this thing tonight.”
She doesn’t look convinced, eyeing me suspiciously.
“Harper,” Ryan says from the end of our station of desks, having retrieved his wallet and phone. “Ready?”
Ignoring Mimi’s prying eyes, I walk over, feeling ridiculous in this dress with my trainers on. We make our way through the open-plan office toward the exit, and he waits until we’re out of earshot of everyone to say he actually thinks I can pull off the trainers with the black-tie dress look.
“If you’re trying to persuade me not to bother with the shoe shopping, I’m afraid it won’t work,” I inform him haughtily. “It’s essential that we stop for some appropriate shoes on the way. Don’t worry, though. I won’t take long. I can be very decisive when I want to be.”
“I don’t doubt it. And I wasn’t trying to put you off shoe shopping,” he insists. “I was genuinely trying to pay you a compliment.”
“That I can pull off trainers?”
“That you look good in that dress.”
Looking bemused by my stunned reaction, he pulls the door open and gestures outside.
“Shall we?”
By the time we arrive at the charity ball, Ryan is in a slightly worse mood than when we left, having had to put up with me trying on almost every pair of heels in the shop and then deciding to go with the first pair I selected. I’m in a much better mood myself, because I now have two shoes, which is great, and Ryan said my legs look good in these shoes. I mean, I sort of forced him to say it, but it still counts.
“Like I told you the first time you tried that pair on half an hour ago, yes, your legs look good,” he had groaned, lifting his head from his hands.
“You are such a drama queen, Ryan; it was not half an hour ago. It was, like, twenty minutes ago. And are you sure these look good? You’re not just saying that?” I checked, pointing my toes at him. “Because if you think a chunkier heel might be more flattering—”
“Harper, you’re killing me,” he said, scrunching up his eyes, before opening them and letting out a long sigh. “Okay, if my honest opinion will help move this along faster, then here you go: those shoes look sexy. You have great legs. Okay? I mean it. Can we go now? Please?”
I grinned at him. “I’ll take them. But to be sure, I might try on—”
“Harper!”
“I’m kidding!” I laughed, before quickly paying for them at the till.
When we pull up to the grand entrance of The Langham hotel, there is the usual horde of paparazzi waiting for any celebrities to make an appearance. They look at us with interest as we step out of the car, but then quickly go back to chatting among themselves.
“Are you going to wait for your boyfriend?” Ryan asks as we pass through the magnificent columns of the hotel entrance and head through the door into reception.
“He’s already inside,” I reply. “He messaged me earlier.”
Ryan nods, gesturing for me to go first into the ballroom after we’ve had our names checked off the list. The room looks spectacular, twinkling pink and white lights all over the black drapes hanging across the ceiling and stunning displays of pink roses. The event is raising money for breast cancer research, and there are stands dotted around the room, filled with items that are being sold off at auction. A waiter holding a tray of champagne glasses approaches as we step into the room, and we both take one gratefully.
“A lot of glamorous people here,” Ryan observes, scanning the sea of people mingling as a jazz band plays at the other end of the space.
“Don’t tell me you’re intimidated by this situation,” I say, raising my eyebrows. “The guy who has covered political scandals and given pep talks to Olympians with stage fright right before their record-breaking race.”
He looks pleased. “You read that piece.”
“Everyone read that piece,” I point out. “It got picked up by every national paper. I’m surprised you didn’t get a book deal out of it.”
“Actually, I was offered a deal off the back of it,” he says, “but I turned it down.”
I look at him in surprise. “Seriously?”
He shrugs. “I’m not sure how I’d write an entire book about a five-minute conversation. Also, I’m not even a sports journalist, so I’d have nothing interesting to say to that audience—I was really just in the right place at the right time. I was actually covering for someone. Pure luck.”
“But you obviously said the right things to him. That wasn’t luck, was it? That was … you.”
He gives me a strange look. “I think that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Don’t get used to it. I’m still annoyed that you’re here.”
“How can you say that when I’ve just willingly accompanied you through a torturous shopping excursion?”
I roll my eyes. “I’m annoyed that Cosmo implied your presence here was more important than mine. He completely ignored me! What do you think he’s up to?”
He takes a sip of his champagne. “You think he’s up to something?”
“You don’t?”
“Not really. I think he can be clueless and ignorant, especially when it comes to your people skills. But he was right that it’s handy having us both here to do some networking,” he says, gesturing to the room. “Not that we’ve spoken to one other person yet.”
“I just think it’s offensive that he doesn’t trust me to get the stories, despite me continuing to land them. He only trusts you, his best pal.”
“Please stop implying that Cosmo and I are in any way friends,” he pleads, wincing. “We really are not. He has similar journalistic interests to mine, so that’s probably why he’s a bit warmer to my ideas.”
“That, and you have a penis, which helps,” I mutter, just as he takes another drink. He splutters at my comment, so I give him a pat on the back as he coughs and collects himself.
“So, can you see your boyfriend anywhere?” Ryan asks, his eyes still watering.
I crane my neck over the crowd to check. “Nope, but he’s in here somewhere. Eager to meet him, are you?”
He frowns as he takes a gulp of his drink.
My stomach twists—a strange mix of irritation that he’s being dismissive of Liam and unwelcome pleasure that his reaction could be read as a touch of jealousy. I quickly tell myself not to be so ridiculous.
“You didn’t want to bring a date?” I ask, swirling my glass.
He shakes his head. “It’s bad enough I have to suffer such an event for work, let alone drag some innocent bystander along.”
“So, no one special on the scene at the moment.”
He raises his eyebrows at me, looking intrigued. “Are you prying into my private life?”
“I was simply making polite conversation with a colleague,” I say irritably, rolling my eyes. “But if it makes you uncomfortable, feel free to change the subject.”
A small, triumphant smile creeps across his lips that immediately makes me incensed.
“I’m not seeing anyone right now,” he informs me breezily. “I haven’t really been looking for anything serious since I broke up with my ex-girlfriend. We were together almost four years.”
“Sorry to hear that,” I say, keeping my tone neutral and professional. “When did you break up?”
He pauses at that question, lines forming on his forehead.
“Just over a year ago,” he states, keeping his eyes looking straight ahead.
“Around the time you started working at The Correspondence?”
He takes another swig of his drink, polishing off his glass before he answers. “Exactly.”
I realize that this line of questioning is making him uncomfortable, which is fair enough—it’s not like chatting about ex-partners is a typically fun conversation at any occasion—so I’m about to change the subject when I spot Shamari coming over to me with her arms outstretched.
“Harper, hi!”
We greet each other with a kiss on each cheek, and then she turns to Ryan.
“Shamari, this is Ryan, he’s our new features editor,” I introduce. “Ryan, Shamari is a brilliant talent agent—she was the one who set up the interview with Audrey Abbot.”
“That was an amazing feature. Nice to meet you,” he says, shaking her hand.
“It was all Harper, really. She stalked me until I gave in,” she says with a sly smile.
“Stalked is a strong word,” I retort.
“You usually get your morning coffee next to my office in Vauxhall, then?” she asks.
“It’s the best in the city.”
She laughs, giving a wave of her hand. “All’s well that ends well. Audrey loved you, no surprises there. The interview was a hit and the theater company adore me even more thanks to the ticket sales that went through the roof. Not to mention my other client in the same play has now got a fantastic start to his career—he really is the next big thing, Harper.”
“Oh yeah, I remember you telling me about him. The good-looking one. Julian Frog?”
“Julian Newt.”
“That’s the one. I’ll keep an eye on him.”
“Won’t we all.” She grins. “Talking of good looking, I had a chat with your boyfriend earlier. Liam.”
“Oh, you’ve seen him!”
“Yes, he’s charming. He told me about the feature you’re doing on hot talent agencies. I know we’re established, but any chance of a mention would be welcomed. We’ve got lots of exciting things coming up and—”
“Hang on,” I interrupt, holding up my hand. “He told you what?”
“About the piece you’re writing on talent agencies,” she repeats. “I’m surprised you haven’t already approached me for a quote.”
Ryan turns to me, confused. “I didn’t know we were doing a piece on talent agencies.”
“We’re not.”
“You’re not?” Shamari says. “I could have sworn that Liam mentioned—”
“It came up as an idea,” I explain hurriedly. “But I can tell you this: if we were to do one on talent agencies, you would of course be one of the first people I contacted.”
“I should hope so. Ah,” she says, glancing to her right and giving a wave, “I’ve just seen someone I absolutely detest but have to butter up on behalf of a client. Excuse me.”
As she swans off, I spot Liam talking animatedly to a TikTok influencer turned pop star. He laughs at something she says, touching her arm, and then catches my eye. I wave him over, and in response he holds up his finger and mouths, One minute. I frown at him, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
“Who’s that?” Ryan asks, watching the exchange.
“That’s Liam.”
“Oh. He seems … busy.”
“He’s sociable,” I say, bristling. “That’s how you’re supposed to be at parties.”
“He’s giving her his card. Bit weird.”
I glare up at Ryan. “As you were saying a moment ago, it’s important to network at these events. Don’t be so judgmental, you haven’t even met him.”
“Sorry, you’re right,” he says, blushing slightly. “I’m just surprised he hasn’t rushed over yet to—at the very least—say hi to you when the only reason he’s invited is because he’s your plus-one.”
“What is your problem, Ryan?” I snap defensively, putting my hand on my hip. “Do you enjoy putting other people down? You like to feel superior?”
“What? No!” He scowls, recoiling. “I was making an observation.”
“Well, don’t!”
“Fine, I won’t!”
“Fine.”
“Fine!”
We fall into silence. He shakes his head.
“I’m going to mingle,” he grumbles eventually.
“You go do that.”
He drifts into the crowd. I clench my jaw, furious at him. Who does he think he is? I mean, yes, I see his point, it would have been nice if Liam had come over to say hello to me, but he’s in the middle of an important conversation, and it would be rude of him to break away from it, especially if he’s hoping to take her on as a client and—
Oh, okay, he’s now introducing himself to a guy standing next to her. And another influencer I sort of recognize standing next to him. He’s now completely turned his back to me and has launched into that conversation.
He doesn’t need to greet me as soon as I walk through the door. But I have been standing over here waiting for him to finish up for a while. You know what, what am I doing? Usually I’d have worked the entire room by now. Ryan distracted me and now I’m lingering like a loser waiting for Liam while everyone else is busy chatting.
I pull myself together and leave Liam to it—he can find me later.
I soon bump into a glossy-magazine editor I love, before I’m pulled into another conversation with the two leads of a hit crime drama that’s been renewed for a second season. I make a note of their agents, after pitching the idea of doing a joint interview.
I’m having such a good time, I’ve forgotten about how annoyed I am at Liam. At one point I spot Ryan in conversation with a reality TV star renowned for her eccentricity and notice he looks particularly pained as she tells him they must go for drinks to discuss her new fly-on-the-wall TV show about her “bonkers life.” He notices me watching and I quickly look away so he doesn’t get any ideas about me rescuing him from the situation. If he hadn’t been so obnoxious earlier, I might have considered it.
“Harper, there you are,” Liam says in my ear a few minutes later, interrupting my conversation with a producer. “I’ve been looking for you.”
I excuse myself to the producer and turn to him as he gives me a kiss on the cheek.
“You disappeared earlier,” he notes.
“You seemed busy,” I reply sharply, but he doesn’t seem to notice my tone.
“Hasn’t this been a great night? I have met so many people, definitely got some potential clients!” he says enthusiastically, grabbing my hand and giving it a squeeze. “Did I see you chatting with that actor from Don’t Give Up Hope, or whatever that Netflix show was called? You can introduce us, right?”
“He already has an agent.”
“Yeah, but no harm in a chat to make sure he’s got the right person representing him,” Liam tells me, swigging his champagne. “I won’t have the chance to meet him tonight, but if you chat with him again, pass on my details, yeah?”
“Why won’t you have a chance tonight?”
“I’m going to shoot off because, get this—you know Halo Skewed?”
I stare at him blankly.
“They’re this fantastic up-and-coming band,” he gushes. “I was talking to them earlier, and they’re about to go play a gig in Soho. They’ve invited me to come watch, with potential for me to represent them!”
“But Liam, what about … this?” I say, gesturing around us.
“I know, I’m so sad to leave, because it’s been so great, but I think I’ve talked to enough people and I’ve officially run out of business cards,” he says gleefully, his eyes twinkling. “What a success! Better get some more printed. Watch this space, am I right?”
“Liam,” I begin, trying to remain calm, “have you been telling people that I’m writing a feature on talent agencies and I’m including you in it?”
“I mentioned it to a couple of people. Good to get the buzz going.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “But I never said I’d write that piece!”
He looks confused. “We talked about it.”
“I said I’d consider it, but I didn’t say it was a done deal,” I explain, trying to keep my cool but feeling really quite irritated. “Someone brought it up in front of Ryan and it was really embarrassing. He’s our features editor. It can’t look like I’m writing features without his knowledge.”
Liam wrinkles his nose. “Since when do you care about what Ryan thinks? I thought you didn’t like the guy. And it’s not like he’s your boss or anything.”
“It’s nothing to do with personal feelings. It’s about being professional. Look, you can’t assume I’m writing something and then go around telling people about it just because it makes you look good, okay?”
“Got it,” he says coolly, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Right, I better shoot.”
He leans down to give me a kiss on the cheek, before he hesitates and adds, “You’re okay getting home, right? Because I really should go to this gig, it’s an excellent opportunity and—”
“It’s fine,” I snap.
“Great!” he beams, either too stupid to read my tone or deciding to ignore it. “I’ll call you in the morning, babe.”
As he turns round, he bumps into a striking raven-haired woman wearing an incredible black figure-hugging dress, heavy dark eye shadow, and bright red lipstick. I assume she is part of this Halo Skewed band he was talking about because her eyes light up on seeing him and she quickly ushers him to follow her through the crowd to where a group of guys are waiting by the door. Moving to the side of the room where I have a clear view, I watch as they clap him on the back and then exit together.
I sigh heavily, snatching a drink from a passing waiter’s tray, before Ryan appears out of nowhere.
“Is your boyfriend leaving?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.
“Yes,” I say breezily, as though I’m on board with it all. “He’s got a meeting with a client now, so he had to go.”
He nods slowly. “Late meeting.”
“They’re a rock band,” I explain through gritted teeth.
“Ah, makes sense.” He hesitates. “I actually met him earlier.”
“Liam?”
“He barged into my chat with a photographer, who he mistook for one of the Bridgerton cast members. As soon as he realized his mistake, he disappeared again into the night. I didn’t get to talk to him much, but he seems like a catch,” he notes sarcastically.
“Did you come over here just to be horrible about Liam?” I bristle.
“No. I just … I don’t understand why you’re with him.”
I look at him in disbelief. “Oh my god. Are you actually being serious?”
I see some guests glance our way, and I realize I can’t have it out with Ryan here in the ballroom. There’s a fire exit door to my right that’s slightly ajar, so I push it open and demand that he follow me. We step out into an empty corridor and, confirming there’s no one in either direction, I round on him.
“How dare you talk to me like that about Liam? You have no right!”
“I know it’s none of my business—”
“That’s right. It is none of your business!”
“—but he doesn’t seem like … your type,” he says, holding up his hands as though he feels obliged to tell me his opinion. As though it’s important.
He makes my blood boil.
“How would you even know what my type is?” I snap furiously. “You don’t get to have an opinion on who I date. You met him for all of five seconds!”
“Five seconds was all I needed to work out exactly what kind of person he is,” he seethes. “You shouldn’t be with someone who treats you like that.”
“You have no idea how he treats me!”
“I know that he didn’t even bother saying hi to you because he was too busy chatting up all your contacts! He barely acknowledged you. It was rude,” he argues.
“Liam is smart and he’s ambitious, and I respect that,” I tell him proudly.
Ryan snorts. “Well, I’m glad you respect his ambition, because I’m not sure he has much else to recommend him.”
“You are so out of order,” I cry, my whole face on fire with rage. “We’re not even friends! Why should I care about your opinion?”
“Fine! Then don’t care about my opinion!”
“I don’t!”
Ryan takes a deep breath and lowers his voice. “I’m only trying to look out for you, Harper, and that guy is—”
“Don’t look out for me, Ryan,” I snap. “I can look after myself! Liam is a wonderful, thoughtful person who just had a bad night…” I hear myself faltering.
“Oh, come on! You can’t really think that!”
“Don’t tell me what to think!”
“For god’s sake, Harper,” he says impatiently, throwing his hands up in exasperation, “you’re so determined to argue with me all the time, you’re not even bothering to listen to what I’m saying!”
“You’re saying that Liam is using me!”
“I’m saying that he doesn’t deserve you! No one does!”
I stare at him. His eyes bore into mine, his chest rising up and down with his heavy breathing. We stand in utter silence, both refusing to back down and drop eye contact.
And I have a sudden overwhelming and uncontrollable urge to kiss him.