“Well, thanks,” Chessie says.
“I mean because it doesn’t sound like something I’d do.”
“But that’s the beauty of it,” Orson says. “That’s what will capture everyone’s imagination. That’s how love happens, right? Little Cupid with his bow? He turns up out of the blue, when youleast expect him, and fires off his arrows and gets you, right in the heart, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it.” He smiles at his fiancée.
“Aw,” Chessie says, as Scarlett blushes.
But I feel an impending sense of doom. My friends and family and work colleagues will never believe that I fell in love and proposed in the space of two weeks. I’m far too cynical and vocal with my views on marriage and monogamy. The board members are going to see right through me, and it’s only going to make me look even more conniving and insincere.
“Kingi?”
I turn to look for the source of the female voice calling my name… and see Sabrina Pearce approaching the table. Fuck me. Could this evening get any worse?
Chapter Ten
Chessie
The beautiful woman approaching the table looks vaguely familiar. She’s tall, almost six foot in her three-inch heels, slender, and stunning, with long shiny brown hair, immaculate makeup, and a dress that even my untrained eye recognizes as designer. I can’t place her, though…
Then I hear Orson mutter, “Fuck,” and see Kingi stiffen, and it comes to me in a flash. Oh… This is Sabrina Pearce, the supermodel. Her face is everywhere—on billboards, in magazines, and on TV. She’s also the woman he was dating.
He really broke up with her? She must have been terrible in bed. I’m straight, and I’d have trouble walking away from her.
“Sabrina,” he says flatly.
“I thought I spotted you coming in.” She’s talking to him, but she’s looking at me. Her gaze slips down me, taking in my lack of makeup, my hair, and clothes with obvious disdain, then returns to my face with puzzled amusement. “Well, aren’t you going to introduce us?”
What’s he going to say? Will he call me his fiancée?
“This is Francesca,” he says. “Francesca, Sabrina Pearce.”
She waits for a more detailed description, then when it’s obvious one isn’t coming, flicks me a smile and says, “Charmed, I’m sure.” Despite her smile, her expression is hostile, and I feel a stab of dislike. This woman went to bed with Kingi. He kissed her, touched her, slid inside her, and probably made her come. I feel a little nauseous.
“Hello,” I say. He hasn’t introduced me as his fiancée. I slide my left hand under the table. I don’t want her to see the ring and realize we’re engaged in public. She’s the sort of person who’d make a scene.
“You’ve met Orson, I think,” Kingi says, “and this is his fiancée, Scarlett.”
She tears her gaze away from me and gives them a brief smile, then looks back at me. “I haven’t seen you before,” she says, clearly confused that she hasn’t met me in polite society. “Are you from around here?”
Kingi opens his mouth, but before he can reply I interject with, “I live on Waiheke Island. I’m Kingi’s gardener.”
The others laugh. Sabrina looks startled, then says, somewhat icily, “A private joke, I’m guessing.”
“No,” I say, “I’m really his gardener.”
“It’s nice to treat the staff to a night out occasionally,” Kingi says, and I giggle.
“Well, I hope you all have a lovely evening,” she states, clearly not amused at being made fun of. “I’m here with John Anderson, you know, the movie director?” She gestures over at her table.
“You up for a part?” Orson asks.
“Lead role in Ocean’s Eleven Inches?” Kingi suggests, and then I remember another recent headline that revealed she’d starred in a porn movie when she was younger.
Her smile disappears completely. “That was spiteful,” she says bitterly.
“It’s called karma,” Kingi snaps back. “Remember that next time you feed Korero a slanderous headline about me.”
“Well,” she says icily, “I wouldn’t get too comfortable. You never know what’s around the corner.”