Kate

Chapter 3 (Continued)

Only two hours later, Ian drives me to the Sun Room, and I greet the familiar bellboys at the entrance of the hotel before heading to the restaurant. The large, ornate windows make you feel worlds away from the city beyond, the huge red drapes only adding to the feeling of luxury.

Tonight, like most nights, it isn't too busy. The patrons at the half-full tables don't bother glancing towards me, and I grin at the blonde man sitting at the bar alone. He hasn't noticed me either, too wrapped up in what's happening on his phone, a red paper straw dipped in his Martini, the other end in his mouth.

'Who's got your attention?' I tease.

Oliver jumps, dropping his phone on the glass before cursing.

'Please tell me you aren't messaging Quinn again. He isn't worth your time,' I groan, sinking onto the seat beside him.

Oliver has dressed down for the evening – brown chinos, a navy shirt and brown Oxfords on his feet. I hook my purple heels onto the footrest of the stool.

'No!' Oliver looks offended by the suggestion.

Four months ago in April, Oliver's favourite on-off hook-up Quinn had jumped onto his yacht in St Tropez and left Oliver behind. Again. Something that never stops Oliver from messaging him... until he ends up hurt. Again.

I'm not a fan.

Oliver shuffles closer to me, phone in hand. 'I'm stalking Florence's Instagram.'

'Florence?' I wrinkle my nose, eyes darting across the room to the redhead in the corner, surrounded by her cronies. 'There's never anything interesting on there, just the same old Kensington pavement and a new outfit—'

'Until today,' Oliver retorts, cutting me off.

I furrow my brow, and Oliver quickly orders me a gin sour before thrusting his phone under my chin. 'She's been tagged in a photo – look!'

My eyes dip to the screen, then widen with surprise. Florence is dressed in next to nothing, a sparkly silver crop top covering her assets, tiny pink shorts on the bottom half, hands thrown in the air as she drinks from a champagne bottle.

'Wow,' I murmur. 'Who uploaded that?'

'Some guy in France,' Oliver mutters. 'I don't recognise him. This makes Flo look like fun. I should invite her to my party next week.'

'Don't you dare,' I retort, shaking my head.

'Oh, look,' Oliver murmurs.

My head whips to the side.

'Be subtle, K! Jesus, what's wrong with you?'

Giggling, I drop my head, letting my loose, wavy hair cover my face. 'Sorry! What's she doing?'

'She's on her phone,' he replies.

'Must have seen the notification.'

'Definitely. And there's the panic... wait for it... wait for it...' Oliver grabs his phone, dragging the picture down and letting the app refresh. 'It's gone!'

'Already? That was fast work,' I note.

Oliver shrugs. 'She's removed her tag, at least. No doubt messaged Frenchie to take it down too.' He glances over at the girl in her blue trouser suit as she places her phone on the table and turns back to her friends. 'It's a shame. For a mere minute, I thought we could be friends.'

I scoff. 'You can't blame Flo for keeping the hawks at bay when we're the biggest fakers out there, Oliver.'

'Whatever.' He dismisses me with a wave of his hand. 'Talking of my party, I'm going to be in Spain the day before, so I'll have to head straight there from Gatwick.'