Page 127 of The Encore’s Crown

“I’m devastated. Where else will I find terrible lighting and coworkers actively plotting my downfall?”

Kasia laughs, but she keeps watching me. Before she can ask anything else, Rafe appears. He looks happier than he did the entire time we were in Japan. Kasia barely has time to turn before he catches her around the waist and lifts her off the floor. She laughs into his shoulder.

“You saw me this morning.”

“That was hours ago.”

He sets her down but doesn’t release her. Then he notices me. He pulls me into a hug before I can stop him. It’s quick but genuine.

“I’m glad you came.”

“Your label paid for the flight and hotel. I’m not an idiot.” I pull back and inspect him. “Kasia said there would be useful people here.”

“There are hundreds of useless people too. You’ll have to sort them yourself.”

“Finally, a skill set I possess.”

Rafe smiles. The three of us stand together easily as Kasia asks about the final shows. Rafe complains about press. I tell him the altar centerpieces look like haunted wedding decorations, and he becomes obsessed with the concept. Then Rithy calls his name from across the room. I hear Kiri laugh at something. My body reacts without warning. A pull low in my stomach. Heat and hurt mixed together until I can’t separate them. Kasia touches my wrist.

“We’re heading over.”

“Go ahead.”

She pauses. “You’re not coming?”

“I need a drink.”

“There are servers everywhere.”

“I want a fancy one. Celebrating, see?”

Rafe’s eyes move over my face. He knows something is off.

“We’ll be over there,” he says carefully.

Kasia still hesitates, but Rafe guides her toward the others with one hand at her waist. She looks back once. I’m already walking in the opposite direction. The next twenty minutes become an exercise in strategic avoidance.

I visit the bar even though I take champagne instead of ordering anything. I compliment the flower arrangements to a woman wearing a headset. I stop to speak with a beauty publicist I recognize from Instagram and accept her card. When Kasia waves me toward the group, I point toward the restroom and disappear into it for long enough to make the lie convincing.

Every time I return, Kiri and Radhika are still blissfully together.

After another lap around the room, I settle at the end of a long velvet couch near the windows. It gives me a clear view of the city and a terrible view of everything else. I cross one leg over the other and lift my champagne. Completely unaffected by the fact that Kiri Chhim apparently needed less than a month to rediscover the love of his life.

A man takes the empty seat beside me.

“I’ve been trying to work out whether you’re hiding or observing.”

I turn.

He’s handsome in a polished, expensive way. Dark blond hair brushed back from his face, pale gray suit, no tie. Probably late thirties. His smile is confident without being careless, and the label pin at his lapel suggests he belongs here more than most of the people pretending they do.

“Are those my only options?”

“They’re the most interesting ones.”

He holds out his hand.

“Julian Mercer.”