Page 73 of Close Protection

As soon as Milosh handed the car keys to the valet his hands found mine and they haven’t left my body since. Not that I’m complaining.

‘Daphne!’

When I hear Isabella’s all-too-familiar voice I turn around and plaster a smile on my face. It’s not that I’m not happy to see her; I am. It’s just that she interrupted a perfect moment that I don’t know if I’ll ever get back.

‘Bella, hi!’ I give her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek when she comes to join me and Milosh.

‘I’ve already checked what table you are: table seven, next to me and Eddie at table eight.’ Her eyes find Milosh and her smile turns a little too seductive for my liking. ‘Hi, Milosh, good to see you again.’

‘Yep,’ is all he says as he slips his hands into his pockets.

Isabella gives me a look that suggests she wants to talk to me alone, so after an internal huff I turn to Milosh. ‘Would you mind getting me a drink, please? Non-alcoholic?’

He looks between me and Bella before nodding. ‘Sure.’

He walks off and leaves us staring after him.

‘Daph, he looks good,’ is the first thing she says to me.‘As in, really good. As in, if I could, I’d drop Eddie for him in a heartbeat.’

‘Isabella, you love Eddie.’

‘Yeah, I do, so that should tell you all you need to know about how good your boyfriend looks.’

I watch him as he orders a drink for me at the bar while a petite brunette tries to talk to him.

‘Ew.’ Me and Isabella grimace in unison when she starts grossly caressing his arm then moves on to his chest before he stops her. He captures her arm and holds it firmly before saying something inaudible to her, then practically flicks her hand away.

‘Ugh, he’s even loyal, too,’ Isabella groans. ‘Is there anything he can’t do?’

‘Not really, no.’ The funny thing is, that’s not even a lie. I think back to earlier in my room when I was teaching him a basic waltz and how quickly it came to him. He almost immediately knew how to lead me in the dance, purely by instinct, and was able to pick up steps with no difficulty whatsoever.

‘How’s it going with you two?’ Bella turns to look at me.

‘It’s going good.’ I smile. ‘Really good.’

‘Are you doing anything with him for your birthday?’

‘I don’t know. I mean, I don’t have anything plannedbut he might,’ I lie. I haven’t told Milosh it’s my birthday in a few days, purely because it doesn’t matter and he’s had a lot more pressing issues to deal with. And it’s not like we’re actually dating so there’s no need for him to know.

‘Oh, he’s definitely gonna surprise you, in one way or another.’ She looks back at him with a knowing smile.

‘Where are the tables?’ I ask, in desperate need of a new topic.

Originally when I told Milosh we were going to need to fake date tonight, I was pretty excited. I get to live out the relatively new fantasy of us actually being together without any consequences or awkward conversations. But now that we’re here, all it’s done is make me realize how lonely my life actually is. Yes, I’m always surrounded by people but I still have that hole in my heart. That ache for something more.

I will for ever be grateful for my father, my friends and my house staff that have turned into somewhat of a second family to me, but I want more. I want non-platonic affection. I want someone to call my boyfriend and it actually be real. I want birthday surprises and little ‘just because’ gifts. I want the opportunity to learn someone’s love language, and show them how much they mean to me through it.

Faking has its perks, but that’s all it is at the end of the day. Fake.

I watch as Milosh gets handed our drinks and makes his way back to us, his eyes solely focused on me. When he watches me like that it warms my heart. It makes me believe he may actually feel something too. In the short time I’ve been at the gala, I’ve come to realize that I don’t just wantsomeoneto call a boyfriend, I want it to be Milosh.

‘Oh, they’re on the other side of the hall,’ Bella announces half-heartedly as she recognizes someone across the room.

‘You go talk to them,’ I suggest. ‘Milosh and I will find our table and talk to you more later.’

‘Okay, great,’ she says, completely disregarding me, walking away. I laugh after her, but my laughter dies as a large warm presence enters my personal space.

‘She’s just a joy,’ Milosh says, handing me a champagne flute. ‘It’s the non-alcoholic one.’

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