The Plus-One Agreement

TWO

‘Aaaaargh!’

The ensuing squawk from Emma’s mother easily outdid the gallery’s classy background music, and Dan was dimly aware of the room falling silent around them as people turned from the paintings to watch.

‘An accident—it was an accident...’ Emma gabbled, fumbling with a pack of tissues from her tiny clutch bag and making a futile attempt at mopping up the mess.

As her father shook a handkerchief from his pocket and joined in, her mother slapped his hand away in exasperation.

‘It’ll take more than a few tissues,’ she snarled furiously at him, and then turned on Emma. ‘Do you know how much this outfit cost? How am I meant to stand next to your brother in the publicity photos now? I’ve never known anyone so clumsy.’

Emma’s face was the colour of beetroot, but any sympathy Dan might have felt was rather undermined by the revelation that she’d intended, without so much as a word of warning, to make a fool of him in front of the cream of London’s social scene. That was her plan? That? Dumping him publicly by humiliating him? If he hadn’t caught on in time it would have been him standing there dripping Veuve Clicquot while she no doubt laid into him with a ludicrous fake argument.

No one dumped him. Ever.

‘An accident?’ he said pointedly.

She glanced towards him, her red face one enormous fluster. He raised furious eyebrows and mouthed the word dry-cleaning at her. She widened her eyes back at him in an apologetic please-stick-to-the-plan gesture.

Emma’s brother, Adam, pushed his way through the crowd, turning perfectly coiffed heads as he went, dandyish as ever in a plum velvet jacket with a frothy lace shirt underneath. There was concern in his eyes behind his statement glasses.

‘What’s going on, people?’ he said, staring in surprise at his mother as she shrugged her way into her husband’s jacket and fastened the buttons grimly to hide the stain.

‘Your sister has just flung champagne all over me,’ she snapped dramatically, then raised both hands as Adam opened his mouth to speak. ‘No, no, don’t you go worrying about it, I’m not going anywhere. I wouldn’t hear of it. This is your night. I’m not going to let the fact that my outfit is decimated ruin that. I’ll soldier on, just like I always do.’

‘I’ve said I’m sorry. I’ll pay for the dry-cleaning,’ Emma said desperately.

Dan’s anger slipped a notch as he picked up on her discomfort. Only a notch, mind you. OK, so maybe he wouldn’t have it out with her in public, but he would most certainly be dealing with her later.

Emma closed her eyes briefly. When did it end? Would everything she ever did in life, good or bad, be somehow referenced by Adam’s success? Then again, since her mother was already furious with her, she might as well press ahead with the planned mock break-up. Maybe then at least the evening wouldn’t be a total write-off.

She drew Dan aside by the elbow as Adam drifted away again, back to his adoring public.

‘We can still do it,’ she said. ‘We can still stage the break-up.’

He stared at her incredulously.

‘Are you having some kind of a laugh?’ he snapped. ‘When you said you needed a fake break-up I wasn’t expecting it to involve my public humiliation. You were going to lob that drink over me, for heaven’s sake, and now you think I’ll just agree to a rerun?’

She opened her mouth to respond and he cut her off.

‘There are people I know in here,’ he said in a furious stage whisper, nodding around them at the crowd. ‘What kind of impression do you think that would have given them?’

‘I didn’t expect things to get so out of hand,’ she said. ‘I just thought we’d have a quick mock row in front of my parents and that would be it.’

‘You didn’t even warn me!’

‘I didn’t want to lose the element of surprise. I wanted to make it look, you know, authentic.’

He stared at her in disbelief.

There was the squeal of whiny microphone feedback and Adam appeared on the landing above the gallery. Emma looked up towards her brother, picked out in a pool of light in front of a billboard with his own name on it in six-foot-tall violet letters. She felt overshadowed, as always, by his brilliance. Just as she had done at school. But now it was on a much more glamorous level. No wonder her legal career seemed drab in comparison. No wonder her parents were expecting her to give it all up at any moment to get married and give them grandchildren. Adam was far too good for such normal, boring life plans.

His voice began to boom over the audio system, thanking everyone for coming and crediting a list of people she’d never heard of with his success.

‘I can’t believe you’d make a scene like that without considering what effect it might have on me,’ Dan said, anger still lacing his voice.

The blonde champagne waitress chose that moment to walk past them. Emma watched as Dan’s gaze flickered away from her to follow the woman’s progress and the grovelling apology she’d been about to give screeched to a halt on the tip of her tongue. Just who the hell did he think he was, moaning about being dumped, when his relationship principles were pretty much in the gutter? OK, so they might not have actually been a couple, but she’d seen the trail of broken hearts he left in his wake. He had no relationship scruples whatsoever. One girl followed another. And as soon as he’d got what he wanted he lost interest and dumped them. As far as she knew he’d never suffered a moment’s comeback as a result.

Maybe this new improved Emma, with her stupid unrequited girlie crush on Dan well and truly in the past, had a duty to press that point on behalf of womankind.

‘Oh, get over yourself,’ she said, before she could change her mind. ‘I’d say a public dumping was probably long overdue. It’s just that none of your conquests have had the nous or the self-respect to do it before. There’s probably a harem of curvy blonde waitresses and models who’ve thought about lobbing a drink over you when you’ve chucked them just because you’re bored. And I didn’t actually spill a drop on you, so let’s just move on, shall we?’

Adam smiled and laughed his way back through the crowd towards them, and she seized the opportunity as he neared her proudly beaming parents.

‘Same plan as before, minus the champagne. I’ll start picking on you and...’

The words trailed away in her mouth as Adam clamped one arm around Dan’s shoulders and one around her own.

‘Got some news for you all—gather round, gather round,’ he said.

As her parents moved in closer, questioning expressions on their faces, he raised both hands in a gesture of triumph above his head.

‘Be happy for me, people!’

He performed a jokey pirouette and finished with a manic grin and jazz hands.

‘Ernie and I are getting married!’

Beaming at them, he slid his velvet-sleeved arm around his boyfriend and pulled him into a hot kiss.

Her mother’s gasp of shock was audible above the cheers. And any plans Emma might have had of staging a limelight-stealing break-up went straight back to the drawing board.

* * *

Emma watched the buzzing crowd of people now surrounding Adam and Ernie, showering them with congratulations, vaguely relieved that she hadn’t managed to dispense with Dan after all. From the tense look on her parents’ faces, as they stood well away from the throng, dealing with the fallout from Adam’s announcement wasn’t going to be easy. And despite the fact that it was a setback in her plans to introduce Alistair, there was no doubt that her mother was much easier to handle when she had Dan in her corner.

Dealing with her parents without him was something she hadn’t had to do in so long that she hadn’t realised how she’d come to rely on his calming presence. They might have only been helping each other out, but Dan had had her back where her family were concerned. And he’d never been remotely fazed by her overbearing mother and downtrodden father.

She wondered for the first time with a spike of doubt whether Alistair would be as supportive as that. Or would he let her family cloud his judgement of her? What was that saying? Look at the mother if you want to see your future wife. If that theory held up she might as well join a nunnery. Alistair would be out of her life before she could blink.

She couldn’t let herself think like that.

Calling a halt with Dan was clearly the right thing to do if she was so ridiculously dependent on him that she could no longer handle her family on her own. But she couldn’t ruin Adam’s excitement. Not tonight. She’d simply have to reschedule things.

And in the meantime at least she wasn’t handling her mother’s shock by herself. She took a new flute of champagne gratefully from Dan and braced herself with a big sip.

‘I’m sure it must just be a publicity stunt,’ her mother was saying.

Denial. Her mother’s stock reaction to news she didn’t want to hear.

‘It’s not a publicity stunt,’ Adam said. ‘We’re getting married.’

He beamed at Ernie, standing beside him in a slim-cut electric blue suit. He certainly looked the perfect match for Adam.

Her mother’s jaw didn’t even really drop. Disbelief was so ingrained in her.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, darling,’ she said, flicking an invisible speck of dirt from Adam’s lapel. ‘Of course you’re not.’

Adam’s face took on the stoic expression of one who knew he would need to press the point more than once in order to be heard. Possibly a few hundred times.

‘It’s the next logical step,’ he said.

‘In what?’ Her mother flapped a dismissive hand. ‘It’s just a phase. You’ll soon snap out of it once the right girl comes along. Bit like Emma with her vegetarian thing back in the day.’ She nodded at Emma. ‘Soon went back to normal after a couple of weeks when she fancied a bacon sandwich.’

‘Mum,’ Adam said patiently, ‘Emma was thirteen. I’m twenty-nine. Ernie and I have been together for nearly a year.’

‘I know. Sharing a flat. Couple of lads. No need to turn it into more than it is.’

Emma stared as Adam finally raised his voice enough to make her mother stop talking.

‘Mum, you’re in denial!’

As she stopped her protests and looked at him he took a deep breath and lowered his voice, speaking with the tired patience of someone who’d covered the same ground many times, only to end up where he’d started.

‘I’ve been out since I was eighteen. I know you’ve never wanted to accept it, but the right girl for me doesn’t exist. We’re having a civil partnership ceremony in six weeks’ time and I want you all to be there and be happy for me.’

‘I’m happy for you,’ Emma said, smiling tentatively.

Happiness she could do. Unfortunately being at the wedding might be a bit trickier. Her plans with Alistair lurked at the edge of her mind. She’d been so excited about going away with him. He’d showered her with gifts and attention, and for the first time in her life she was being blown away by being the sole focus of another person. And not just any person. Alistair Woods had to be one of the most eligible bachelors in the universe, with an army of female fans, and he had chosen to be with her. She still couldn’t quite believe her luck. Their trip was planned to the hilt. She would have to make Adam understand somehow.

He leaned in and gave her a hug. ‘Thanks, Em.’

She had grown up feeling overshadowed by Adam’s achievements. Just the look of him was attention-grabbing, with his perfectly chiselled features and foppish dress sense. And that was just now. She couldn’t forget the school years, where for every one of Emma’s hard-earned A grades there had been a matching two or three showered effortlessly on Adam. His flamboyant, outgoing personality charmed everyone he came into contact with, and her mother never ceased championing his successes to anyone who would listen.

It hadn’t been easy being her parents’ Plan B. Competing for their interest with someone as dazzling as Adam was an impossible, cold task.

‘I blame you for this, Donald,’ her mother snapped at her father. ‘Indulging his ridiculous obsession with musical theatre when he was in his teens.’

Sometimes Emma forgot that being her parents’ Plan A was probably no picnic either.

Adam held up his hands.

‘Please, Mum. It’s not up for discussion. It’s happening with or without your approval. Can’t you just be pleased for us?’

There was an extremely long pause and then her mother gave an enormous grudging sigh.

‘Well, I can kiss goodbye to grandchildren, I suppose,’ she grumbled. ‘We’ll have to count on you for that now, Emma. If you can ever manage to find a man who’ll commit.’

She glared pointedly at Dan, who totally ignored the jibe. Emma had been wondering how long it would be before her biological clock got a mention. Terrific. So now Adam could carve out the life he wanted without bearing the brunt of her parents’ wrath because they had Emma lined up as their biological backup plan to carry on their insane gene pool.

Going away with Alistair was beginning to feel like a lucky escape. She just needed to get her plans back on track.

* * *

Dan scanned an e-mail for the third time and realised he still hadn’t properly taken it in. His mind had been all over the place this last day or two.

Since the night of Adam’s exhibition, to be exact.

There was a gnawing feeling deep in his gut that work didn’t seem to be suppressing, and he finally threw in the towel on distracting himself, took his mind off work and applied it to the problem instead.

He was piqued because Emma had ended things with him. OK, so her plans to dump him publicly hadn’t come off, thankfully, but the end result was the same. She’d drawn a line under their relationship without so much as a moment’s pause and he hadn’t heard from her since. No discussion, no input from him.

He was even more piqued because now it was over with he really shouldn’t give a damn. They were friends, work colleagues, and that was all there was to it. Their romantic attachment existed only in the impression they’d given to the outside world, to work contacts and her family. It had always been a front.

His pique had absolutely nothing to do with any sudden realisation that Emma was attractive. He’d always known she was attractive. Dan Morgan wouldn’t be seen dating a moose, even for business reasons. That didn’t mean she was his type, though—not with her dark hair and minimal make-up, and her conservative taste in clothes. And that in turn had made it easy to pigeonhole her as friend. A proper relationship with someone like Emma would be complex, would need commitment, compromise, emotional investment. All things he wasn’t prepared to give another woman. Tried, tested and failed. Dan Morgan learned from his mistakes and never repeated his failures.

It had quickly become clear that Emma was far more useful to him in the role of friend than love interest, and all thoughts of attraction had been relegated from that moment onwards. It had been so long now that not noticing the way she looked was second nature.

But the gnawing feeling in his gut was there nonetheless. Their romantic relationship might have been counterfeit, but some element of it had obviously been real enough to make the dumping feel extremely uncomfortable.

He’d never been dumped before. He was the one who did the backing off. That was the way he played it. A couple of dinner dates somewhere nice, the second one generally ending up in his bed, a couple more dates and then, when the girl started to show signs of getting comfortable—maybe she’d start leaving belongings in his flat, or perhaps she’d suggest he meet her family—he’d simply go into backing-off mode. It wasn’t as if he lied to them about his intentions. He was careful always to make it clear from the outset that he wasn’t in the market for anything serious. He was in absolute control at all times—just as he was in every aspect of his life. That was the way he wanted it. The way he needed it.

He was amazed at how affronted he felt by the apparent ease with which Emma had dispensed with him. Not an ounce of concern for how he might feel as she’d planned to trounce him spectacularly in front of all those people. His irritation at her unbelievable fake break-up plan was surpassed only by his anger with himself for actually giving a damn.

Feeling low at being dumped meant you had feelings for the person dumping you. Didn’t it?

Unease flared in his gut at that needling thought, because Dan Morgan didn’t do deep feelings. That slippery slope led to dark places he had no intention of revisiting. He did fun, easy, no-strings flings. Feelings need not apply. Surely hurt feelings should only apply where a relationship was bona fide. Fake relationships should mean fake feelings, and fake feelings couldn’t be hurt.

That sensation of spinning back in time made him feel faintly nauseous. Here it was again—like an irritating old acquaintance you think you’ve cut out of your life who then pops back up unexpectedly for a visit. That reeling loss of control he’d felt in the hideous few months after Maggie had left, walking away with apparent ease from the ruins of their relationship. He’d made sure he retained the upper hand in all dealings with women since. These days every situation worked for him. No emotion involved. No risk. His relationships were orchestrated by him, no one else. That way he could be sure of every outcome.

But not this time. Their agreement had lasted—what?—a year? And in that time she’d never once refused a date with him. Even when he’d needed an escort at the last minute she’d changed her schedule to accommodate him. He’d relied on her because he’d learned that he could rely on her.

And so he hadn’t seen it coming. That was why it gnawed at him like this.

You don’t like losing her. You thought you had her on your own terms. You took her for granted and now you don’t like the feeling that she’s calling the shots.

He gritted his teeth. This smacked a bit too much of the past for comfort. It resurrected old feelings that he had absolutely no desire to recall, and he apparently couldn’t let it slide. What he needed to do now was get this thing back under his own control.

Well, she hadn’t gone yet. And he didn’t have to just take her decision. If this agreement was going to end it would be when he chose—not on some whim of hers. He could talk her round if he wanted to. It wouldn’t be hard. And then he would decide where their partnership went.

If it went anywhere at all.

He pulled his chair back close to the desk and pressed a few buttons, bringing up his calendar for the next couple of weeks with a stab of exasperation. Had she no idea of the inconvenience she’d thrust upon him?

Not only had Emma dumped him, she’d really picked a great moment to do it. Not. The black tie charity dinner a week away hadn’t crossed his mind the other evening when she had dropped her bombshell. It hadn’t needed to. Since he’d met Emma planning for events like that had been a thing of the past. He simply called her up, sometimes at no more than a moment’s notice, and he could count on the perfect companion on his arm—perfect respect for the dress code, perfect intelligent conversation, an all-round perfect professional impression. There was some serious networking to be had at such an event, the tickets had cost a fortune, and now he was dateless.

He reached for the phone.

It rang for so long that he was on the brink of hanging up when she answered.

‘Hello?’ Her slightly husky voice sounded breathless, as if she’d just finished laughing at something, and he could hear music and buzzing talk in the background, as if she were in a crowded bar or restaurant.

From nowhere three unheard-of things flashed through his mind in quick succession. Emma never socialised on a work night unless she was with him; she never let her phone ring for long when he called her, as if she was eager to talk to him; and in the time that he’d known her she had never sounded this bubblingly happy.

‘What are you doing a week from Friday?’ he said, cutting to the chase.

‘Hang on.’

A brief pause on the end of the phone and the blaring music was muted a little. He imagined her leaving the bar or the restaurant she was in for a quiet spot, perhaps in the lobby. He sensed triumph already, knowing that she was leaving whoever she was with to make time to speak with him.

‘Tying up loose ends at work, probably. And packing.’

So she was storming ahead with her plans, then. The need for control spiked again in his gut. He went in with the big guns.

‘I’ve got a charity ball in Mayfair. Black tie. Major league. Tickets like hen’s teeth. It promises to be a fabulous night.’

He actually heard her sigh. With impatience, or with longing at the thought of attending the ball with him? He decided it was definitely the latter. She’d made no secret of the fact she enjoyed the wonderful opulence of nights like that, and he knew she’d networked a good few new clients for herself in the past while she was accompanying him—another perk of their plus-one agreement.

For Pete’s sake, she had him giving it that ludicrous name now.

Their usual dates consisted of restaurant dinners with his clients. Pleasant, but hardly exciting. Except for Dan’s own company, of course. Luxury events like this only came up occasionally. He waited for her to tear his arm off in her eagerness to accept.

‘What part of “it’s over” did you not understand, Dan?’ she said. ‘Did you not hear any of what I said the other night?’

It took a moment to process what she’d said because he had been so convinced of her acceptance.

‘What I heard was some insane plan to desert your whole life as you know it for some guy you’ve known five minutes,’ he heard himself say. ‘You’re talking about leaving your friends and family, walking out of a job you’ve worked your arse off for, all to follow some celebrity.’

‘It would be a sabbatical from work,’ she said. ‘I’m not burning my bridges there. Not yet. And you make me sound like some crazy stalker. We’re in a relationship. A proper grown-up one, not a five-minute fling.’

He didn’t miss the obvious dig at his own love life, and it made his response more cutting than he intended.

‘On the strength of—what was it?—half a dozen dates?’ he said. ‘I always thought you were one of the most grounded people I know. You’re the last person in the world I’d have expected to be star-struck.’

He knew from the freezing silence on the end of the phone that he’d sunk his foot into his own mouth up to the ankle.

‘How dare you?’ she said, and a light tremble laced her voice, which was pure frost. ‘It was obviously too much to hope that you might actually be pleased for me. Yes, Alistair is in the public eye, but that has nothing to do with why I’ve agreed to go away with him. Has it occurred to you that I might actually like him because he’s interested in me for a change? As opposed to the grandchildren I might bear him or the fact I might be his carer when he’s old and decrepit. Or...’ she added pointedly ‘...the fact that I might boost his profile at some damned work dinner so he can extend his client list a bit further because he never quite feels he’s rich or successful enough.’

She paused.

‘You’re saying no, then?’ he said. ‘To the all-expenses-paid top-notch Mayfair ball?’

He heard her draw in a huge breath and then she let it out in a rude, exasperated noise. He held the phone briefly away from his ear. When he put it back her voice was Arctic.

‘Dan,’ she was saying slowly, as if he had a problem understanding plain English, ‘I’m saying no to the Mayfair ball. I’m through with posing as your professional romantic interest so you can impress your damned client list while you date airhead models for a week at a time.’