Page 172 of The Girlfriend Clause
Good for them. At least they’d taken her attention off me.
Sveta’s hand brushed my sleeve, and across the room, Hugo caught my eye and raised his glass slightly, expecting me to come over.
Yes. The reason I was here. Novexia. Regulatory favors.
I nodded, then glanced back toward the corridor leading out of the hall. There were people everywhere, milling out toward the drinks area. Where was Andrea? We didn’t reallyhave anything to prove now as far as convincing people went. I just wanted her with me.
“So nice to see you again, Sveta.” The lie slipped out easily.
Grateful for a reason to leave, I stepped away from the group, already rehearsing what I was going to say to Hugo.
Chapter 34
Andrea
Mum:Well, I’m glad you’re having fun, darling.
Me:I am, thanks, Mum.
My heels slipped on the cobblestones as I searched for a quiet corner to sit so I could get some air, clear my head. The lake was still, the moon reflecting on its glassy dark surface, and I perched on a low wall, staring at my phone.
Mum:You can tell me all about it when you’reback.
But I could only tell her parts of it. As far as Mum knew, I was on a trip to France with friends—not pretending to be the girlfriend of my new boss.
I wanted to tell her everything, but my mind was reeling. I didn’t know what I was allowed to want and what I’d invented.
Every touch of Liam’s hands on my skin had sent shivers coursing through me. I couldn’t deny it—I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anything. Did he feel the same? When he looked at me, it felt like he did.
But this wasn’t my world. I was only ever visiting.
Mum:When will you be back, darling? The printer’s broken, and Murray needs to printsomething.
Right, of course. Something for me to fix.
Me:A couple of days, Mum. I’ll text when I’mhome.
I put the phone back in my bag.
Just a couple of days and I’d be back in reality. Mum, Eliza, the flat, the bills. Mr. Darcy. My job.
I kept turning Sebastian’s comments over in my mind.
“I said at the time it was naive. But only in the sense that it was raw and honest… I’ve always been curious which way you’d go… I’d be interested to hear what direction you’re heading innow.”
Was he really talking aboutme? All I’d heard at the time had been the word “naive”.
And I’d closed that part of my life up like slamming shut a drawer full of things I didn’t want to look at.
That had been… a necessity.Forsurviving.
I didn’t eventalkabout painting anymore. I hadn’t for years.
A knife twisted in my gut. Had I wasted something I should have protected? I’d told myself I was being sensible. Grown-up. But the truth was, I’d simply stopped before anyone else could tell me to.
Why had I been so eager to believe winning the Montclair had been some kind of fluke—that real artists would see through my work as childish and stupid?
If I hadn’t—if I’d kept going, instead of pretending it didn’t matter—
