I’m not going to break her heart.
I didn’t mean her.
“It’ll be fun,” I say firmly. “That’s all. It’ll be nice to have a companion for a while. The last clause will stop any… prohibited conduct. The main thing is that we communicate well, and everything will be fine.”
Her eyes meet mine, and there’s something in them that makes the hairs rise on the back of my neck. She opens her mouth to say something… but at that moment, Tane comes back into the room with the new copy of the contract, and the moment passes.
“Here you go,” he says cheerfully. “Time to sign away your sanity.”
I resist the urge to give him the finger, pick up the pen, and grumble about wishing people would keep their opinions to themselves as I sign at the bottom.
Chapter Eight
Chessie
“Where’s he taking you?” Ria wants to know.
It’s five p.m. Tuesday, and Kingi has told me he’s going to pick me up at six and take me for a meal on the mainland with his friend Orson and his girlfriend, Scarlett. I’ve been working all day on the landscaping of the back slope at the Midnight Club, and I’m knackered. I just hope I don’t fall asleep halfway through the meal.
I stand in front of the mirror in my bedroom, holding a dress in front of me, and survey my reflection with pursed lips. “Some restaurant called Te Moana on the waterfront.”
“Te Moana?” Ria’s eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. “Oh my God, seriously?”
I meet her gaze in the mirror. “You’ve heard of it?”
Her lips curve up. “Chessie… honestly. You’re hopeless. It’s, like, the most expensive restaurant in the city. Everyone who’s anyone goes there.”
“I don’t know why I’m going, then—I’m nobody.” I swallow hard. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m already nervous enough.” I smooth down the black, knee-length dress. “What do you think? Will this do?”
“You look like you’re going to a christening.”
“That’s good, right?”
Lisa giggles. The two of them are sitting on my bed, watching the show. “Not really. You want to wear something that makes everyone sit up and take notice.”
“I really don’t. I want something that will make me fade into the background.”
“Then that dress is perfect,” Ria says.
I stick my tongue out at her. She just grins.
“I don’t like wearing dresses,” I grumble. “I feel like a newsreader. Or a personal assistant. I’m so much more comfortable in trousers.”
“Then you should wear trousers,” Lisa says. “But not jeans. What about those navy pants you bought at Christmas?”
“These?” I pull them out of the cupboard. They’re high-waisted and tailored, and I like them a lot.
“Yeah, they look good on you.”
“In that case, you need a flashier top.” Ria gets off the bed. “Hold on.” She disappears while I pull the trousers on, then reappears with something from her own wardrobe. It’s a sleeveless top in a soft pink with small darker pink, red, and navy flowers and petal shapes. It’s really pretty.
It also has a plunging neckline.
“That looks great on you,” I tell her. “With your B cups. It won’t look so great with my pillows.”
“Just try it,” she urges.
Grumbling, I pull it on. We’re a similar size, so it fits nicely, except for the fact that it dips too far south and reveals my generous cleavage.