The Rich Life

24

This was the biggest fashion show of the year. Everyone who was famous or had connections to wealth was here. Which would help boost my campaign to be Mayor of London. The more influence I had on my side, the better.  I gazed aimlessly at the models who were wearing the familiar designs of Versace, Gucci, Burberry. They were all so colourful and flashing with so many jewels that it made my eyes hurt. It was like looking at a bunch of peacocks. I turned around and I was assaulted by the bright flashes of cameras. If I wasn't fucking blind before, I definitely was now.

Paparazzi are brutal when it comes to meeting the new and upcoming fame. They pounced on me like lions attacking me with questions. I gave a signal for a few people from my entourage to come and stay by my side. It was the usual questions.

"Amara Khan, how does it feel to be the first female lawyer to achieve a billionaire status?"

"Is it true that you are dating one of the male supermodels in this show?"

It made my head pound as I smiled sweetly, feeling hollow and disgusted at myself for bringing myself here, all the way to Milan just for myself to be made a part of the media circus. I could be doing better things in England like visiting hospitals. God knows what they'll be cooking up in those damned magazines. Tomorrow morning I could wake up to a headline screaming "Amara Khan's New Toyboy"

Karamat was still in the picture but I had just been ignoring him lately with my campaign. I had hardly had time for love. Love won't feed my ambition or dreams.

But there was one question that stuck out to me. As soon as I heard the reporter scream it, my entire expression changed.

"Amara! How will you react to seeing your ex-fiance, Adam Dervishi, here?" He screamed. I blinked confused. Adam was here? Fuck. How? What? And why? I pursed my lips, pretending to ignore them. I prayed that my teeth wouldn't be stained with cherry red lipstick. I managed to rework my expression back into a smile, picture-perfect and completely fake. I excused myself and they parted for me to go through, with my bodyguards following suit. A few chased after me until they found something else to prey on. Maybe a singer?

We hadn't had any contact near each other in years. I steered clear of any events where he might be. I often met Tony at charity events and we usually spent the entire evening giggling and slagging off bitchy celebrities, moments where I felt pure euphoria. Just like old times. The closest time I came to encountering him was when he came to pick up up Tony at the end of an event.

_________________

"I've got to go now, Amara. I miss you. Visit New York again. Please?" Tony said, checking his expensive watch. I sighed.

"You know I can't. There's too many...old demons and memories, which I don't want to bring back. I'm okay in London,"

"Ah well," He smiled ruefully, "At least I tried,"

We exited the star-studded event and met the cool evening air, gazing at the bright lights, "You need to eat more Tony. This diet isn't doing you any good. You're a scarecrow. Come back to mine and I'll stuff you with biryani,"

He laughed, "As much as a good offer that is. I really can't. I can't," The mature look of Anthony Blanco came back on his face again, like a man who's seen too much.

"Tony. What's going on? You can tell me anything, I promise. I'm always here for you," I told him. Before he could respond, a car squealed up to the car, pumping out hip-hop music. I recognized the person driving the car a split second before he recognised me.

I would know those bright blue eyes anywhere. I froze to my spot, heart palpitating. God, what are you doing to me?

"I thought you said your chauffeur was coming to pick you up," I hissed, backing away from the car.