Page 58 of Someone Like You

Raff chuckles at that – a far cry from the pink-faced stammer he typically trots out when confronted with being recognised.

‘Well, you have the advantage,’ he replies, ‘as I’m afraid I’m not familiar with your artwork. Sorry.’

She waves her hand modestly. ‘Plenty of time to talk about that. I wantgossip.’

‘Gossip?’ he replies, his mouth curling into a curious smile.

‘Yes. Tell me, is Dame Vicky really that fun in real life or is that only for the cameras?’

‘Oh, I see.’ I can tell from his tone that he’s amused.

‘It’s just… I adore her, you see, and I need to know it’s not an act – that she’s not a total cow off camera.’

Raff laughs, then spills the tea on Dame Vicky – that sheisas lovely offscreen as she is onscreen, and just like that, it’s finally happening! Raff has met his match.

Well, hopefully, but this is looking way more promising than our previous attempts.

With no further wing-womaning required in the foreseeable future, I sidle up to Peter, who’s been left on his own. ‘So, how did you get roped into this?’ I ask.

He laughs and it may be the sexiest sound to ever grace my ears.

‘My sister and I drag each other along to all sorts of things this time of year. This is me returning a favour.’

‘Really? For what?’

‘My work Christmas party. I’m a project planner for the City of London in the most boring division ever – traffic management – so it’s always dull as dishwater. Catering by Tesco – including the plonk – soundtrack by Radio 1, excruciating party games, and a visit from our boss dressed as Father Christmas, handing out gifts from Poundland.’

‘Sounds like torture,’ I commiserate – even though it sounds like his boss is doing their best to spread Christmas cheer on a budget.

‘It is. The sort of do you only take a date to if the relationship is in its final days and you’re looking for an exit strategy.’

‘Right, so cause of death: work Christmas party.’

‘Exactly.’

Peter sounds like he might be a bit of a player.

‘So,’ he says, leaning closer, ‘is he your boyfriend?’ He jerks his head in Raff’s direction.

‘Best friend. I’m also here as a favour,’ I add, even though he didn’t ask. He’s hot but he’s not the best conversationalist.

‘And what doyoudo, Gabriela, guest of Rafferty?’

‘I’m a marketing manager.’

‘Sounds interesting.’

How can it when I’ve only given him a job title? It’s a sloppy line but he’s so gorgeous, I play along.

‘Far more interesting than traffic management, that’s for sure,’ I say. I take a deliberately timed sip of my Champagne and look around the room, feigning disinterest.

He moves even closer, taking the bait, and I get a whiff of his cologne. He’s wearing Aventus by Creed – an expensive cologne for a public servant. But then, I know from his sister’s profile that their family has money –seriousmoney.

‘You’re rather sexy,’ he says, low in my ear.

I meet his eyes, then smile serenely, as if I hear that all the time. I don’t.

Peter may be a player, but he is hot as hell and I haven’t had a hot-as-hell guy in my bed for so long, I’ve forgotten the last time.

---