Page 107 of Heart of The Night

‘Congratulations,’ William said, giving him a grin.

‘Thanks. How about you?’ Oliver’s eyes flickered in my direction again, and William tightened his embrace of me.

‘Same old, really, though I’m working on a few transactions at the moment that should have a positive impact on my career. Important clients. Big brands.’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Oliver smiled, sliding his hands into his pockets. ‘Still striving for partnership?’

William chuckled. ‘That’s still the goal, yes.’

Oliver’s eyes narrowed a fraction, his smile taking a knowing shape. ‘Well, if you’re anything like your father, I’d say it’s only a matter of time.’

‘Hopefully.’

Oliver’s attention shifted to me then, his gaze unwavering. ‘And who might this be?’

‘This is Cara Darby,’ William said, pulling me even closer to his side. ‘My date,’ he added proudly.

My heart missed a beat. His date? We had agreed to introduce me as his mentee to keep things discreet.

I shot William a questioning look, on the verge of correcting him. But the warmth and affection in his gaze, coupled with the fact that his parents already knew about us and my growing indifference to our social circle’s opinions, made me let it go. Maybe it was better this way.

‘Well, you’re a lucky man, Will,’ Oliver said, his eyes still lingering on my face.

‘Oh, I am well aware.’

Oliver extended his hand to me. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Darby.’

I took his hand and shook it, feeling his firm grip. ‘Please, call me Cara.’

‘Cara,’ he echoed with a smile, then steered his eyes back to William. ‘Will you be seated at this table?’

William glanced behind us. ‘Yes. And you?’

‘Over there.’ Oliver pointed to a table near the wall.

William nodded. ‘Well, I hope you’ll enjoy the evening,’ he said, his gaze fixing on something across the room. ‘If you’ll excuse us, Oliver, there’s someone I’d like Cara to meet.’

‘Of course.’ He stepped aside, and William gently nudged me forward.

As we walked away, I felt Oliver’s gaze like a weight on my back, compelling me to glance over my shoulder. Our eyes met briefly before he looked away, a shadow of something unspoken lingering in his expression.

‘How do you know Oliver?’ I asked, peering up at William’s profile.

‘We met while I studied at Cambridge.’

‘Really? So you used to be friends?’

He wrinkled his nose. ‘Not really. He was more a friend of a friend.’

‘And which friend is that?’ I asked.

Before he could respond, a woman in a magnificent purple dress called out, ‘William, my dear! How wonderful to see you here.’

It was Alex’s mother, Beatrice Winton. I’d never met her, but she proved to be an absolute delight. She had known William ever since he was in nursery school with Alex and Andy, and she had a treasure trove of amusing stories to share. One particularly memorable tale involved the time in secondary school when the three lads decided to pull the fire alarm as a prank. Their grand plan backfired spectacularly, landing them all in the headmaster’s office for a stern lecture and a week of detention.

As we chatted, the time flew by, and another middle-aged couple – old friends of John, Daphné, and Beatrice – joined us. William, not missing a beat, introduced me as his date once again, his pride shining through in both his tone and demeanour.

‘There’s Alex and Andy,’ William whispered in my ear after a while, nodding toward a group of four people. I quickly spotted Andy, standing beside a blonde woman whom I presumed to be Chloe since he had his arm wrapped around her. In front of them stood Alex, a stunning brunette on his arm. She was dressed in a faint-pink gown that looked like it was straight out of The Great Gatsby.

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