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Alex’s eyes followed the twirling ribbon of cigarette smoke as it floated above Olivia’s hand.
Olivia leaned forward, her shadow engulfing Alex. “Now, hypothetically—if one were to hijack someone else’s play—what would spur one on to do such a thing? Envy? Hmm…no. Laziness? Far from it. Perhaps it’s payback for a different kind of theft?”
She stared at Alex. “I feel it in my bones…you and Harry. I know something went on.”
Alex itched her puffy eyes and reminded herself not to shout. “I’ve already told you. He’s a friend—nothing more. We never kissed. We never slept together. Why are you fixated on Harry and me?”
“Of course you’d deny it. That’s human nature,” said Olivia. “Give the girl a gold star for predictability.”
Unsure of how to reply, Alex rested her forehead in her clammy hands—anything to avoid Olivia’s shark-like eyes. She just wasn’t getting it. What’s wrong with her?
“I don’t blame you.” Olivia shook her head. “Every girl wants Harry. He’s gorgeous, kindhearted, sees the best in everyone—usually to his own detriment.”
She tapped her cigarette, nudging a long ash from its tip into a small glass plate. “He works too hard at Bespoke, and he doesn’t need to. The Manville family is old money, and they’re successful at keeping it. They’re also quite adept at weeding out people who don’t belong in their circle. You may see Harry as a friend, but to him you’re nothing more than a charity case; a girl who needed temporary shelter, that’s all. Funnily enough, his family does have a charitable fund for the homeless…”
Olivia’s lips continued to sneer and flap, her words fading in importance as jagged breaths escaped from Alex’s mouth. The room began to swing slightly in time with the maddening tick-tick-tick…
No! Not in front of her—not again. Alex concentrated on her breathing, clawing her way back.
“…and let’s face it. He’s a typical bloke. You may have had your fun, but it didn’t mean anything to him. He and I are in it for the long run. He knows what side his bread is buttered. He’d be a fool to let me slip away.”
“If you’re so convinced Harry and I slept together, why don’t you just ask him?” Alex struck back like a cornered animal.
“You really don’t know how it works in our world, do you? The secret is to keep the upper hand, not to let your man discover what you know. Cracks appear in a relationship when you start asking questions. My goal, next to becoming a successful playwright, is to protect what’s rightfully mine at all costs. I’m going to marry Harry, and no one—certainly not some piece of trash from the Florida swamps—will stop that from happening.”
Olivia crossed her long legs and reclined comfortably in her chair. “I’m prepared to make a deal with you…It’s Harry’s big night. We’ve got dinner and Bespoke’s official launch in a few hours. You keep your mouth shut about this silly play, and I’ll let you stay here until you find somewhere else to live. But you have to find something soon. I think that’s fair, especially when you ponder the alternative—tell Harry, and you’ll be tossed to the curb this afternoon. It’s that simple.”
She inhaled on her cigarette slowly, then allowed an elegant swirl of smoke to escape from her tight lips.
Alex stared at the ceiling. Her toes tapped against the chair leg like a determined woodpecker. Last night, Lucy had called it. Harry would take his girlfriend’s side, and there was no way she could triumph over Olivia’s reputation or wealth.
Giving in, surrendering…she had no choice. “Fine.”
Olivia squinted. “I’m sorry?”
“FINE,” Alex repeated, a little too loudly. “I won’t say anything, and I’ll look for somewhere else to live. I’ve never felt welcome here anyway.”
“Good girl,” said Olivia. “If you move soon, you’ll be doing Harry a favour. You were only staying here as a token of his good will. It wasn’t meant to be permanent. And that room— well, it’s hardly even a room, it’s a scandal.”
The floorboards behind Alex creaked. Her eyes darted over her left shoulder. “I thought I heard voices,” said Tom, scratching the sprouting whiskers on his chin. “What are you two whispering about? Girls and their gossip.”
Alex let out a deep breath while Olivia’s face brightened with a fake smile. “We were just talking about dinner tonight and Harry’s official unveiling of Bespoke.”
“Argh, the dinner. Can I skip it?” He rolled a prescription bottle around in his hands. “Mummy and Daddy dearest are gonna give me an earache.”
Olivia scowled. “No! You can’t. If you stopped your Tinder shagging spree and went to an audition or two, you’d earn a reprieve.”
He rolled his eyes. “And if you got a play commissioned, maybe I’d finally understand why you’re the Chadwick-Smythe golden child…”
When Olivia didn’t bite, he carried on. “I’m going to hit Bespoke hard. Can’t wait to get totally trolleyed. Drinks always taste better when they’re on someone else’s tab.” He rifled through the kitchen cupboards, clinking mugs and glassware.
“Well, that someone else will be up soon.” Olivia stubbed out her cigarette. “Sooner if you keep banging about.”
Tom blanked his sister, pulled an Evian from the fridge, and swallowed a tablet. He tossed the small prescription bottle on the table; the pills rattled as the container rolled across the wood.
“What happened to you, Alex?” He snatched a packet of cigarettes off the counter. “I didn’t see you last night.”
“I was there but had to rush home. Upset tummy.”
