Page 28 of Seal My Fate

“It’s early days yet,” Imogen chides her gently. “Why not have some cake?”

“It’s my party, and I’ll drink if I want to!” Annabelle insists, her cheeks flushed. She already seems tipsy.

“Well, alright,” Imogen tops up her glass. “But I’m not the one who’s going to hold your hair back when you’re puking your guts out at the end of the night.”

“Tessa will, won’t you?” Annabelle leans against me. “She’s the best. You’ve been so good for Saint, do you know that?” she adds, fixing me with a wide-eyed stare. “He hasn’t been fucking anyone since you, and that never happens, he’s the biggest whore around. Whoops,” she giggles, “I just mean…”

“It’s OK,” I reassure her. “I know all about his reputation.”

“Apparently, his dick is miraculous,” Annabelle whisper-shouts. “A miracle dick!”

I have to laugh.

“Aaaand that’s my cue,” Imogen rises, smiling. “Please, have fun talking about my cousin’s dick.”

She moves off to chat to the others, while Annabelle collapses back dramatically in the velvet booth. “You’re so lucky,” she sighs. “Saint would never hurt you. I bet he’d do anything for you.”

I chuckle. She’s tipsy, and that’s undoubtedly influencing her words. But there’s also something wistful in her tone.

“You and Max have fun together,” I say, encouraging.

“Right. Fun,” Annabelle gulps her champagne. “As long as I look the other way. If I had a pound for everything that Ihaven’tseen… Well, I wouldn’t have to marry Max now, would I?” she laughs, too loud, but before I can ask anything more, two of her girlfriends swoop in to show her some social media post about the party, and she’s dragged away.

But I watch her for the rest of the evening. She plays the part well: The bubbly aristocrat, gushing over cupcakes and designer party favors, but I know that Annabelle is smarter than she looks.

She deserves more than a tense, anxious marriage to Max Lancaster and his wayward dick, that’s for sure. But I remember what Annabelle told me, about Cyrus Lancaster investing in her father’s business, giving a job to her brother. Everything’s connected, the same way that Saint’s family ties seem to sprawl through the aristocracy, with favors and old debts.

She couldn’t back out of this wedding now, even if she wanted to. And as the night continues, and we move to a swanky nightclub for more cocktails and dancing, I know she realizes it, too.

“Keep an eye on her, maybe?” Imogen murmurs to me, nodding to where Annabelle is dancing with drunken abandon in the middle of the dance floor, eyes closed, head back, wailing along with a Kylie song. “I have to get going, early meeting, and I wouldn’t trust these bitches not to leave her in the backseat of a taxi… with someone she shouldn’t be with.”

“I’ll make sure she gets home safely,” I nod, noting the hungry gazes of the guys in the club, trying to move in close.

“Thanks. See you soon.” Imogen gives me a kiss on each cheek, and then politely says her goodbyes to the others before making a swift escape.

I envy her. I’d love to slip away too, and make it home for an early night with Saint, but now I’m on official babysitting duty, that’s not going to happen. I send him a quick text, and then settle in, nursing a soda, and watching Annabelle and her friends get well and truly wasted. By the time midnight rolls around, I’ve just about hit my limit of gushing small talk about Binky’s new interior design job, and Vivi’s newborn.

“… And of course, we couldn’t have done it without the night nurse, and the au pair, and of course, Norris’s old nanny, who’s stayed with him all this time…”

I look around, realizing I’ve lost track of Annabelle in the crowded club. “Fascinating!” I interrupt loudly. “Be right back. Ladies room!”

I make my way down from the raised VIP section, scanning the dance floor. I don’t see her anywhere, and—

Over there. I catch a glimpse of blonde hair and pink fabric, and quickly cut through the crowd. Annabelle is in the narrow hallway to the bathrooms, cornered by a snooty guy in a designer suit. He’s leaning in, getting too friendly, and when I get closer, I can see that her tiara is askew and she’s so drunk, she can barely stand.

“C’mon, babe,” the guy takes her arm, leering down the front of her dress. “Let’s get out of here. We can go somewhere quiet—”

“What a great idea!” I interrupt loudly, pushing between them. “Let’s go, Annabelle. Come along,” I add, when she makes a whimper. “Time to go home. Alone,” I add, fixing the man with a furious glare.

He backs off, looking disappointed.

“Wanna stay…” Annabelle slurs, yawning. “Wanna dance.”

“You’ve already danced plenty,” I tell her gently, steering her away. “Time to go home, and hydrate.”

She nods. “Good hydration is ver’ important. For th’ skin. Elasti—elasticity.”

“That’s right.”

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