Page 56 of Someone Like You

Rounding out the look are forest-green heels and a matching clutch, both from the Lorenzo/Elle Bliss Mile High Club collection. Global Reach pitched to them last year, but we didn’t land the account. A pity – I’dloveto work with them.

Raff looks great too. His hair is in a similar style to the one hehad for theNouveau Lifephotoshoot, and he’s wearing a modern-cut, dark-grey suit, crisp, white dress shirt, and a patterned tie that has the same hue of green as my dress.

We’re dressed like a couple, I suddenly realise. Ha-ha! Hilarious.

‘If it’s too cold when we arrive, you can borrow my suit jacket until we get inside,’ he offers.

‘Nah, that’s okay. We’ll only be in the cold for a few seconds. The price you pay for beauty, huh?’

He smiles at me. ‘Indeed.’

The car pulls up outside The Leadenhall Building (AKA the Cheesegrater). It’s not the most inspired-looking building. It has some incredible views, though, especially from the forty-second floor where the event is being held. We take the elevator with several couples, excited whispers filling the air.

The last time I was here was for the launch of (yet another) sparkling mineral water brand – not my campaign but a colleague’s and a fairly run-of-the-mill event.

But as we step out of the elevator, I’m left breathless.

The space has been transformed into a winter wonderland. Thousands of fairy lights twinkle and dozens of strategically positioned candelabras make the large room feel warm and cosy. White and silver garlands adorn the walls, and each table has a huge vase filled with silver glass baubles as its centrepiece. There’s a string quartet playing ‘It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas’, and I’d have to agree.

Wait! Is thatsnow? I reach out and several tiny flakes land on my hand, melting away in an instant.

‘Wowser,’ says Raff, stooping to talk in my ear. ‘This is way beyond anything we’ve ever done – and we’ve organised some cracking events.’

I don’t have time to agree, as we’re instantly greeted by aperfectly coiffed woman, who appears to be in her mid-twenties. ‘Mr Delaney, Ms Rivera, welcome,’ she says with a warm smile. ‘These are for you.’

She hands us nametags embossed on stiff card. Raff’s says:Rafferty Delaney, Winner ofBritain’s Best Bakers. Mine says:Gabriela Rivera, Guest of Rafferty Delaney. I affix mine to the neckline of my dress and help Raff clip his onto his breast pocket.

‘That’s quite the party trick,’ I say to him quietly.

‘I know – she must have had to study our photographs or something,’ he mutters back.

I straighten his nametag then step back.

‘This way, please,’ says the woman.

She leads us to the end of a short cue where people are waiting to be photographed against a large backdrop, a landscape that is either Lapland or a Lapland wannabe. Gentle, glistening, snow-covered slopes, stands of conifers, their branches so thick with snow it looks like they’ve been frosted in fondant, and a deep-purple-hued sky with traces of the Aurora Borealis. It could be right before sunrise or right after sunset.

The photographer is a pro and efficiently directs the pairs and trios into elegant poses, prompting smiles where none were only moments before. Now it’s our turn.

‘Madam, sir…’ he says, indicating where we should stand. ‘Sir, if you could place your hand on madam’s waist, and madam, turn slightly towards sir.’

‘Oh, we’re not—’ I say, about to correct him.

But he steps forward and moves Raff’s hand to rest on my hip, then positions me. ‘Perfect.’ He steps back and regards us. ‘Madam, chin lifted, please.’ I lift my chin. ‘And soft smiles as if something is mildly amusing.’

Actually, thatismildly amusing – and possibly the cleverest tactic for eliciting an enigmatic smile I’ve ever encountered.

He takes several shots and after each one, I feel Raff’s grip getting stronger. Hereallydoesn’t like having his photo taken. ‘Are we done yet?’ he mutters wryly, and I snigger.

‘Perfect,’ says the photographer, snapping a final shot, one in which I was laughing.

He gently waves his hand for us to clear the landscape and our hostess is waiting for us on the other side. ‘This way, please.’

She leads us towards a small group of people who are standing around bar tables, drinking and talking. As we approach, she turns to us.

‘Grace is making the rounds,’ she says, referring to Grace Wong, the founder of Forty Under Forty, ‘so you’ll meet her shortly. In the meantime, we’ve grouped our guests into specialty areas as an ice breaker. You’re with the creatives, Mr Delaney. And of course, please feel free to mingle with other specialty areas at your leisure. Have a lovely evening.’

She smiles politely, then dips her chin in a half-nod and strides off.

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