Right Number, Wrong Girl

I waited. “Is nobody going to offer to take me?”

Hugo’s lips twitched. “I’ll take you. Come on.”

“Thank you.” I flipped the piece of paper back down and followed him out of the ballroom. “That was harder than it needed to be.”

He looked over at me. “You seem stressed.”

“Do I? Fancy that. Nothing to do with me being stressed.”

“Hey.” He took my arm and pulled me off into a side room I’d never been in before.

Another living room.

Of course.

“What’s wrong?”

I looked away from him. “I just have a lot to do.”

“Sophie.” He touched the side of my face and forced me to meet his eyes. “What’s. Wrong?”

Everything, I wanted to say.

“The decorating company was sent a wrong version of the table plan with less tables from someone claiming to be my assistant,” was what I actually said.

He stilled. “You think Nancy did it?”

“Lucy showed me the email. It came from someone within the working household and was sent after I confirmed the plan. I need to make sure Anthony has the correct one.”

“What’s happening with the decorations? Do they have enough?”

“Yes. It was sent yesterday, and Lucy said her boss was furious at the change. Thankfully, everything was ordered for my plan, not the other one.”

He rubbed his hand down his face. “I can’t believe she’d do this.”

“Really? Nancy has hated me since she laid eyes on me. She’s fully determined to sabotage this, probably so she can swoop in and try to fix it.” I hugged the clipboard to my body. “Camilla is staying in Norway until the day of the party and not coming here, so I just have to push through the next several days and I can go back to my life.” I walked past him and opened the door, moving towards the front door.

“Whoa, whoa,” Hugo said, rushing after me. “Why don’t you take a break?”

“I have things to do, Hugo. Can you just take me to Anthony, please?”

Confusion flashed in his eyes, and I hated myself for how I was speaking to him.

Yes, I was stressed.

Yes, this newest attempt by Nancy to circumnavigate my plans was part of that, but part of it was because I had to put an end to the very tiny fling we’d started.

I didn’t want to do that.

One look at him in the doorway of the ballroom, leaning against the frame with his white t-shirt and his green eyes and his smirking lips, and all my bravado to end it had disappeared.

“All right,” Hugo said slowly. “Let’s get this sorted out.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR – SOPHIE

Tell You Tomorrow

I was so tired.