‘You look… just… wow.’ Harry checks me out, top to bottom. He’s looking sharp himself in a trim black suit, no tie. ‘Are you wearing purple contact lenses?’ Harry is right up close to check.

‘My irises are sometimes violet,’ I reply, flattered. ‘Have you truly never noticed?’

‘Of course I’ve noticed,’ Harry tells me.

Unusually, we don’t embrace.

‘Did you enjoy the stroll?’

‘The red carpet? I did. And I believe we wowed them, windy weather and all.’ I bat my (real) lashes dramatically.

‘Come here, you,’ Harry says, pulling me inside his arms.

My face presses softly into his neck. Harry nuzzles his chin to mine. I’m wearing my new favourite perfume, Philosykos by Diptyque. Lusty notes of fig and white cedar. I feel Harry breathe in my scent.

Slowly, he breaks away.

‘You’re on your own?’ he says.

‘Not at the moment.’

He grins at me lopsidedly. ‘Where is your date? Where is your, ahem –’ Harry lowers his voice and clears his throat ‘– shag buddy, wasn’t it?’

Unbelievably, he mustn’t know that I cancelled with Carlos. Or that I’m supposed to be here with Jordan. For reasons I don’t wish to dwell on, I’m reluctant to tell him.

‘Are you on your own, Harry?’

‘No, my dates are powdering their noses – and not like that.’

‘Dates? Plural, darling? Charming.’

‘The twins, as you might say. I’m here with Bip and Ban.’

I was being chummy. Forcibly – it’s lovely, but it’s always forcibly that I put the brakes on with Harry. But he is here with his sisters. Half-step-sisters. Not dates. Not even one.

‘Oh.’

Inside my tummy, a knot tugs. Or maybe this trouser suit is too tight after the champagne.

‘They’re looking forward to seeing you. We must all catch up later. I haven’t forgotten, I promised you the best after-parties.’

‘That sounds smashing.’

Why am I speaking like a Peaky Blinder?

‘So, the girls, ah, stepped in,’ Harry carries on. He looks nervous.

‘Right…’

‘After you so brutishly declined my offers to accompany me this evening,’ he finishes.

I check for signs of mischief. There’s nothing in his eyes to suggest it. I wait for him to laugh. Harry does no such thing.

‘You invited me as your date, Harry?’

‘I certainly tried. Didn’t I?’

‘No, I…’

I avert my gaze. I cannot look into those gorgeous, dark eyes without wanting everything with this man. Thoughts are racing through my head. My heart is skipping beats.

For months, to survive my humiliation, with a mortal fear of being rejected, I’ve numbed my feelings. Afraid to fail, I refused to dream. Now, a flood of hope sweeps over me.

‘Gracie, I—’

Without warning, Jordan arrives at my side. Interrupted, the moment between Harry and I evaporates. I watch the colour drain from his face.