‘I’m fine,’ I say.
Cassie happened to arrive immediately after Leo’s revelation, witnessing the moment my legs gave way beneath me. But in the ensuing commotion, during which Leo fled with a feeble excuse about calling New York and a promise to ‘be in touch’, Zara wouldn’t stop saying that the word ‘swooned’. Swooned! As if I’m a character in Bridgerton!
Cassie’s clearly unconvinced by my assertion that I’m okay and peers down at me, her lips pressed together and brows knitted. She even tuts intermittently as she stuffs cushions behind my head. There are so many, my chin is now touching my chest and I’m anything but comfortable.
Zara returns with a glass of water, which I take even though I don’t want it. I sip, then swallow and smile for my fussy nursemaids.
‘Happy now?’ I ask them.
‘I’m not bloody happy,’ says Cassie, close to shouting. ‘You nearly collapsed.’
‘Oh, for god’s sake.’ I swing my feet over the edge of the sofa and plant them firmly on the floor, making a grand display of sitting. ‘See? I’m fine.’
‘Zara, can you please give us a minute?’ Cassie asks.
I adore Zara but right now, I could throttle her. She’s blown this all out of proportion, egging on my usually sensible sister, who appears moments away from calling triple nine. Zara reaches out and squeezes my hand, then leaves the office before I can squeeze the life out of her.
I flop back against the sofa and emit a big, ugly, frustrated yowl.
‘This office isn’t soundproofed, you know,’ says Cassie, retreating to her desk.
‘Oh, yes, I’m well aware. The entire team was listening in on my argument with Leo. I could see them’ – I wiggle my fingers – ‘pretending to work but hanging on every word.’
‘Elle, what is going on?’
‘Well, you should know – haven’t you orchestrated this entire thing?’
‘What?’ She recoils as if I’ve slapped her, visibly paling – either in indignation at the accusation or guilt.
Well, in for a penny and all that… I prop my elbows on my knees and fix her with an inquisitory look. ‘Even after we discovered that Lorenzo was Leo, you pushed me to collaborate with him. “It’s good for the label – it’ll be our big break”,’ I parrot. ‘At every turn, at every roadblock, you’ve called the shots,’ I say, standing, as I’m too agitated to sit any longer.
Our office is rather small, but I pace the width of it anyway.
‘Even when I had to watch a fucking supermodel announce to the world that they’re getting married, you wouldn’t take no for an answer. It was all aboard the Cassie Bliss Collaboration Train! You haven’t seemed to care at all that this has been torture for me – working side by side with Leo, having to ignore everything that happened between us, knowing I couldn’t have him, yet really, really wanting him.’
‘Elle, I’m so sorry.’
And she genuinely is sorry, I can tell. A tear escapes and rolls down her cheek; she wipes it away with the back of her hand.
Well, now that I’ve had my rant and made my sister cry, I feel even more awful. And deflated. I sit on my office chair, staring at the floor, swinging it from side to side. The movement is soothing.
‘Can I ask something?’
I look up and in true Cassie fashion, she’s composed herself – well, mostly. I nod. ‘What was it Leo said that made you swoo—’
‘Please don’t say that word,’ I beg with a raised hand.
It most certainly wasn’t a Regency-era swoon, no matter what Zara says, but I’m still mortified – especially as Leo was there to witness all the ensuing fuss. Or part of it, until he left – again. What is it about that man and leaving?
‘Elle?’
My mind has wandered – and no wonder.
‘Sorry. Go on, ask me again,’ I say, resigned, ‘because you are never going to believe it in a million years.’
Poppy
I’m reading through the finished article Bex, the assistant editor at Nouveau, sent over, oddly proud that in a small way – very small considering how many edits she’s made – I contributed to this, when my phone pings with a message from Cassie. It takes me less than ten seconds to read it.
‘Nasrin, emergency meeting!’ I call out.
Her head pops up from behind her monitor. ‘Two minutes?’
‘Okay.’ I leap out of my seat and, bringing my phone, head to my favourite meeting room, the one with the view of the Thames. Nas will know where to find me.
When she joins me a few minutes later, I have a plan – or at least half a plan.
‘Sit,’ I say, and she does. ‘Are you ready for this? The engagement is fake.’
‘We already knew that.’
‘We already suspected that but now we have proof.’
‘Okay,’ she says, a slow smile breaking across her face. ‘So, what is it, the proof?’
‘Leo confessed to Elle.’
‘No. Way,’ she says, folding her arms across her chest. ‘I did not think that would happen.’
‘I know. I thought Marie would come through before Leo spilled.’
‘And this came from Cassie?’
‘She walked in on Elle and Leo at Bliss Designs. Elle appeared to be mid-swoon, Cassie said.’
‘Oh, I love a good swoon,’ she says. ‘So, what’s next? Are we meeting with Cassie?’
‘One better. I’m going over there.’
‘To Bliss Designs?’ I nod. ‘How?’
‘I’ll probably take the Tube.’
‘I’m not talking about your mode of transportation. I mean, for what reason, under what guise?’
‘I was—’
‘Please tell me you’re not just going to pop over and ask, “Hey, what’s up?”.’
‘I’m Poppy Dean, fashion journalist, don’t forget.’
‘Only you’re not and it will seem odd.’
‘I’ve already figured it out. It’s a welfare check. I show up because Nouveau is worried about them and—’
‘Are they worried about Elle and Leo?’
‘How would I know? Possibly.’
Nas snorts out a laugh.
‘Anyway, Cassie called’ – I check my phone – ‘seven minutes ago and if I leave now, I should catch them before they leave for the day.’
‘Not via the Tube, you won’t.’ She signals for me to hand her my phone, which I do. ‘There you are,’ she says, handing it back to me. ‘A car will be waiting for you downstairs in five.’
‘Oh, thank you.’
‘Don’t thank me – it’s on your Uber account.’
I swallow the acerbic retort that’s on the tip of my tongue.
‘Better get your arse in gear,’ she says. ‘Don’t want to mess with your rating.’
I task Nasrin with updating Saskia and Paloma, then rush out of the office, making it to the kerb seconds before the Uber arrives.
On the ride over, my phone rings, and I’m about to answer and tell Cassie I’m nearly there – though I’m not really, as their fashion house is all the way across London – but it’s Jacinda.
‘Hi, lovely, what’s up?’
‘We need to stage that intervention.’
‘You mean meddle?’
‘Isn’t that what you do for a living?’ she quips. ‘Meddle in other people’s love lives?’
‘Hilarious,’ I say dryly, and she sniggers. ‘Besides, when it’s your best friend, it is definitely meddling.’
‘Look, if we don’t do something – and soon – Shaz and Alfie will renew their lease for another year and Shaz will lose Lauren for good.’
This is a slight exaggeration. Lauren doesn’t strike me as the type of person to drop her girlfriend – the woman she’s in love with – because Shaz needs time to process the idea of cohabitation. Still, it’s not just Shaz’s relationship at stake. Alfie is champing at the bit to move in with his boyfriend and doesn’t he deserve his HEA as well?
‘What exactly did you have in mind?’ I ask.
She outlines her plan for this Saturday.
‘What, no blindfold or rope?’
‘We’ll only resort to kidnapping if she resists,’ she deadpans.
‘Remind me never to get on your bad side.’
At that, she chuckles and ends the call.
I gaze out the window as we zip through Central London and it dawns on me that there is a flaw in my (somewhat hastily designed) plan.
Journalists from glossy magazines probably don’t show up at their subject’s place of work unannounced, even for a welfare check. I re-jig my cover story, then make a quick call.
Elle
‘But why?’ I ask.
‘I thought you liked Poppy,’ says Cassie.
‘She’s… I don’t know… fine, but that doesn’t mean I want to talk to her, especially now.’
‘It shouldn’t take long.’
‘But I thought we were finished with all that. Can’t you call her back and tell her not to come?’
‘Well, no. Nouveau is sending her. They want to be assured that nothing untoward is going on between you and Leo.’
‘Hah! If only.’
‘Nothing has happened, right?’ Cassie peers at me closely.
‘Sorry, what? Are you really asking if I’ve shagged Leo?’
‘Don’t be crass.’
‘Well, then don’t ask stupid questions. Until today, I thought he was engaged to someone else! You know I’d never do something like that.’
She drops her eyes. ‘You’re right, I’m sorry.’
‘Not that I haven’t wanted to – he’s so bloody sexy. It’s infuriating. And now his engagement’s fake – oh and, surprise, it turns out he had an excellent reason for leaving so abruptly after uni – he was being a dutiful son! God, Cass, can you imagine if Nouveau knew what was really going on? If I wanted to blow up all our lives, including Franzia’s, I would spill the tea to Poppy and call it good.’
‘Elle.’
‘What?’ I ask, sitting heavily in my chair.
‘I’m sorry it’s been so hard on you, working with Leo.’
‘Well, it hasn’t been all bad,’ I admit.
‘I’m glad to hear that. And the collection’s coming along beautifully – those storyboards!’
Now is when I should confess to Cassie that before Leo’s big reveal, I sent him packing, and as of an hour ago, there is no collection. Only I can’t bring myself to tell her just yet.
Because, what if…
No, I shouldn’t hold out any hope.
Leo’s engagement may not be real, but it’s not like we can run out the clock on his fake engagement by sneaking about. We couldn’t even fly under the radar when we weren’t sneaking about.
And he said they need to keep up appearances for at least another month – but then what? An announcement that I’m the reason he broke off his engagement? That could be career suicide – for both of us.
No, there’s no way we can be together in the foreseeable future, I realise, awash with anguish. Tears prick my eyes but I blink them back.
He also didn’t tell me why he agreed to pretend in the first place. I’d ask him but, true to form, Leo dropped his bombshell, then disappeared. Do I even want to be with a man who can’t stick around when everything goes to shit? Now or then?
And if all that weren’t enough to worry about, Poppy’s on her way over here to ask if I’m about to break up a celebrity couple.
The press even have a couple name for them now: Lorenzia. Ugh. Though, better than ‘Franzo’, I suppose. That sounds like a brand of pasta sauce.
‘What’s going through that head of yours?’ asks my sister, dragging me from my thoughts.
‘Pasta sauce in a jar.’
‘That’s… odd,’ she says with an affectionate smile.
‘Yes, I know. And it’s made me hungry. Do we really have to talk to Poppy? Today has been a total mare! Can’t we just go home and lie about on the sofa and eat pasta and watch rubbish television?’ I ask, already knowing the answer.
‘No, Bean. She’s on her way. Besides, we don’t want Nouveau to cancel the feature.’
‘Fine,’ I say, wondering if I still have that emergency bag of crisps in my desk drawer. I open it to check when there’s a tap at the door. Zara cracks it a few inches and peeks in. Now, I love Zara – love – but today…
‘Yes, Zara,’ Cassie asks, her tone tinged with impatience. So, it’s not just me then.
‘I thought you might want to see this,’ she says, cringing. She’s holding up her phone and my gut clenches. What now?
Cassie calls her in and comes around her desk, taking Zara’s phone. She peers at the screen, blinks slowly, and exhales loudly through her nose. ‘Well, fuck.’
Cassie swearing is like an alarm bell, and I leap out of my chair and snatch the phone from her, then stare in horror at the screen.
‘How? How?’ I screech.
As much as I want to, I can’t tear my eyes from the screen.
