CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

WILLOW

The car pulls up outside a round Tudor style building, and the doorman opens the door for me as Piers comes around the car. “M’ lady,” he teases, sweeping his hand out in a grand gesture and offering me his arm.

“Charming, thank you.” Taking his arm, I smile, excited for what the night will bring. Reaching up to make sure my jeweled mask is secure, I get a better look at our location. “Wait, is this the Globe Theater? What are we doing here?” I’m confused because I thought the gala was at a hotel.

“You’ll see.” He returns my smile, looking sinfully handsome with his dark waves swept back to the side and his black mask framing his emerald eyes. “Yes, it’s the Globe, but not technically at the Globe…a secret location.” He winks and holds onto me as we walk.

“What do you mean a secret location?” I look up at him then at the round building in front of us.

“Willow, don’t forget to smile.” He looks back towards where he is walking, but my eyes are still on him. Smile?

“What do you mean?” I squeeze his hand.

Before he can answer me, we are blinded by the flash of photographers. “Right this way, Mr. Nichols.” Two large men in suits come and escort us to a roped off area with a long, deep blue, carpeted walkway. I then see a banner like the ones from awards shows or events, and it has Piers’ name on it, along with a few other prominent names I recognize and the London Lost logo. It hits me, the scope of how grand this is.

Once behind the safety of the ropes, the guards step back, and we pause on the carpet. He pulls me close to his side, holding one hand while the other wraps possessively around my back and looks at me as the cameras flash, and photographers call for his attention. “This is the gala?” I smile calmly, but on the inside, I’m anything but. “Piers, this is more than a dinner party with masks...this...rhis is, a— a— a red carpet event.”

“Technically, the carpet is blue.” He smiles before turning to address the crowd. I stand at his side like a statue, smiling at strangers through blinding lights, until I feel like my cheeks are going to push my eyeballs right out of their sockets. His hand never leaves mine, his arm holding me close.

He addresses the press, thanks them for coming, talks about the London Lost and answers a few questions. The noise all blends together and becomes a loud buzzing in my ears.

As we start to move, I notice another couple approaching us. A tall gorgeous blond in a black dress with feathers dripping from the bottom, her bodice barely covered by black beads. When she’s close enough for me to see her eyes, my face falls for a split second before I turn my head. Scarlett!

Before I can make my escape, we’re all standing and posing for a photograph. Lovely. I hold my head high and plaster on a smile that I hope doesn’t look too forced. Of course, Scarlett has squeezed in where she’s on the opposite side of Piers. Her talons brush my bare shoulder as she reaches her arm around him to pose. I notice she’s a natural in front of the camera, turning this way and that, laughing and smiling.

“Piers! Great timing; you look dashing.” She nods in my direction. “Willow.”

“Scarlett,” I reply flatly.

“Hello, Scarlett.” Piers takes my hand, and we move through the massive wooden doorway and off the carpet, away from the glare of the lights. “Are you okay?” He searches my face while Scarlett and her date follow closely behind.

“Why wouldn’t she be?” Scarlett asks, stepping around me to a large gilded mirror hanging on the wall and checking her wine colored lipstick, making me suddenly wonder if my own ruby lips are still in place. Oh, God, what if I have lipstick on my teeth?

I would rather die than share a mirror with her. What if we made eye contact and she somehow stole my soul through my reflection or trapped me inside its glassy shards? Enough Willow! I calm the writer in me but tuck away the idea for a story.

“That kind of press is intimidating for anyone, especially someone not expecting it.” Piers sticks up for me, turning his attention away from where Scarlett fusses in the mirror. “Willow, you remember Theodore Stone?”

Scarlett’s date steps forward, moving his mask aside, and pulls out tortoise shell specs and puts them on. “This might help.”

Studying the curly chocolate hair hanging to his collar and warm brown eyes hidden behind glasses, it hits me. “Teddy!” I wrap my arms around him in a hug, which earns me a growl from Piers. Stepping back, I take a good look at him. He’s just my height and has slimmed down a considerable amount since we were teenagers. “How are you? You look fantastic!” It’s so good to see a familiar face. A friendly one, anyway.

“Hello, Willow. You look lovely.” He smiles bashfully at me. “Yes, it’s me, I go by Theo these days.” He and Piers exchange greetings, and I’m glad to see that they are very much still friends.

“So you and Scarlett?” I blurt out, confused why he would be her date.

“Oh, God no!” Scarlett jumps in, wrapping her arm through his. “He’s much too busy with his books and doing whatever it is that anthropologist’s do to actually talk to women. I needed a date when Piers dropped me last minute to bring you.” Her mouth smiles at me, but her eyes are glaring. “Teddy was kind enough to come along. He was on the list anyway. So it wasn’t entire seating chart nightmare rearranging everything for Piers’ last minute change of heart.”

Piers gives Scarlett a heated look, and taking the hint, she wraps up her little story. “He never brings dates anyway, so I knew he would be available.” I feel terrible for Theo at Scarlett’s harsh assumption. He looks away and fiddles with his mask.

“No need to be rude, Scarlett.” Piers takes my arm and continues walking. “Theo, I owe you a drink, mate.”

We walk further into the venue and down a large, sweeping staircase. “It’s like we’re going underground,” I whisper to Piers, looking at the large ballroom that’s glowing shades of pink and purple, blue and green. Tables are adorned with miniature, flowering trees that house what looks like tiny, floating globes with candles inside. Little fairy wings act as place card holders. It’s incredible. It is like a dream.

“In a way, we are. Underglobe is directly beneath the Globe Theatre – in the daylight hours it houses Globe’s Shakespeare exhibition, but at night, it comes alive as one of London’s exclusive hidden events spaces. It’s really a unique space and very different from the Town House at Kensington where we usually host our more intimate events. This called for something a bit more dramatic.”

Looking up, I see thousands of tiny white, twinkling lights. “Oh, Piers! Look!” I point out two acrobats moving gracefully on large streamers suspended from the ceiling.

“It seems we got the dramatic part down.” He smiles. “We came in the secret river-side entrance, which, thanks to Scarlett’s PR team, wasn’t so secret. And hopefully, news of tonight’s event will be splashed all over the papers come morning, bringing attention to London Lost. That’s what it’s all about, for me anyway.” He squeezes my hand as we reach the bottom of the stairs.

“How many people were invited?” I look around, curious who else we might bump into.

“We sent out roughly 200 invitations, I think 175 came back as yeses. Others sent regrets and a check. Which is what we’re here for. I couldn’t care less whether we’re having Pave of halibut or Beef Wellington as long as we raise money for the kids. Although, I’m told the dessert selections this evening are to die for,” he whispers in my ear, and it does things to me, causing a flutter deep, down low in my stomach.

“Welcome, to A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Gala for the London Lost,” Shakespearian dressed men and women greet us; one even blows fire up into the air.

“Wow, so the location makes perfect sense now.” It’s hard not to get caught up in the whimsy of it all.

Piers finds our table and we take our seats just as he’s called up to give the opening remarks. I watch the man, who holds my heart...I’m filled with pride and focus on his poetic words about family and second chances when I feel someone sit next to me.

“He’s fantastic, isn’t he?” Scarlett’s voice purrs in my ear. “He was made to be a leader, but we’ve both always known that. He needs someone who can support him on that. Not hold him back.”

“What are you saying, Scarlett?” I glare at her.

“Nothing that he hasn’t already thought himself. You’re his past; you need to let go. I protected him from you then, and I’m trying to do it now. I can help him be the person he was meant to be.”

I’m about to stand up and knock her out of her chair when applause erupts around us. Piers. He is just finishing up his speech.

“You will only hold him back. You make him soft...weak,” she whispers before being called onto the stage with Piers. “Looks like he needs me.” She smugly smiles before walking towards the front to join him.

About that time, Theo returns from the bar and looks at me. “Are you okay, Willow?”

“Fine, thanks.” I just need to get some air. I politely excuse myself. I cannot sit through listening to Piers thank Scarlett for all of her hard work, formality or not; it makes me sick.

“I’ll have a club soda with raspberry, please,” I tell the barman.

“Rough night?” A raspy voice next to me asks with a chuckle.

“Something like that,” I offer as my drink is placed neatly in front of me on a blue napkin. Taking a sip, I explain. “I don’t drink. My parents were killed by a drunk driver, so it’s not a political statement. Just a choice.” I’m nervous and therefore rambling. When I turn to apologize for unloading on him, I see that he’s gone. Can’t say I blame him.

“There you are.” I feel Piers’ strong arm wrap around me, and he holds me close. “They are serving dinner. Care to join me and see what all the fuss is about?”

“I suppose.” I smile up at him.

Once seated, Piers jumps right into conversation. Thankfully, there are three other couples besides Scarlett and Theo at our table, so it helps that she’s across the table and not right next to me.

He introduces me, as an old friend, with a kiss to the cheek. My face flushes at the attention. I feel the death rays Scarlett shoots my way when Piers’ lips linger a second longer than necessary over my cheek. Theo picks up on her behavior and moves the conversation along.

Piers steps away from the table to talk with a few guests. I notice a couple of the wives at our table, who are much younger than their respective spouses, staring at Piers in a way that makes me...uncomfortable. I hate to say jealous; because am I? Is that what I am? Should I be? They look like plastic dolls. In fact, they could almost be twins. I’m so lost in thought that I don’t realize I’m staring, until one of them speaks to me.

“So, Willa? What is it that you do again?” Blonde number one, the duchess I think, asks me.

“I’m, uh. I—” I’m not sure; writing is something I don’t openly talk about. I prefer to keep my identity secret.

“She writes children’s books,” Scarlett interjects. Raising her glass of champagne in toast as if to say, you’re welcome. “Little fairy stories.”

The breath is nearly knocked out of my lungs. I’m so angry I could cry. I feel tears burning the back of my eyes. How could she know? When understanding dawns on me, she smiles and nods at me.

Taking a deep breath, I turn back towards the duchess or model, whatever she is. “Yes, I’m a writer and an illustrator of children’s books.”

“Like picture books?” Blonde number two asks.

“Yes, picture books. Do you have a particular favorite?” I smile and catch Theo nearly choking on his drink at the exchange.

“Reginald would never let me work outside of the home,” Blonde number one chimes in.

They must be satisfied with my answer because after shooting me dirty looks, they resume whispering amongst themselves. Either that or the fact that Piers sits back down draws their attentions elsewhere.

“I think that’s fantastic, Willow. Good for you! Cheers!” Theo raises his glass to me.

“Thanks, Theo. That’s very kind of you to say. I’m sure it’s nothing near the caliber you’re used to reading at university,” I humbly reply but appreciate his compliment nonetheless.

“What are we toasting?” Piers asks, reaching over and taking my hand in his. This whole touching each other thing is so new. I like it; it just feels different. Especially being able to show affection without worrying about someone seeing us.

“Willow’s success as a children’s author and illustrator.” Theo fills him in, and his eyes look to mine and widen before he glances at Scarlett and narrows them.

Looks like he did tell her. Unbelievable.

I try to pull my hand away from his hold, and he tightens his grip. “She’s very talented. I’ve seen some of her work.” His eyes never leave mine as he talks.

I wonder where? I’ve had no time to set up a studio here in London. But the way things are going, it looks like my permanent residence will be changing, so it’s probably a good idea to think about setting one up.

“Join me for a dance?” He stands holding out his hand. “Please?”

“I’d love to.” I put my hand in his, trying to live in the moment and see past the fact that he shared my secret. With her.

I look up in time to see Scarlett roll her eyes. “I need another drink.” She storms off. I’m relieved to see her go.