Shelley exhaled. ‘So, just fill the role of your arm candy. I’m still nervous though. What if I trip?’

‘Are you kidding me? You can hold a plank far longer than anyone else I know. You won’t trip.’

‘Or if someone asks me a question? Like some reporter asks how long we’ve been … dating or something?’

‘Just smile and play dumb,’ Ward answered bluntly. ‘They’re more likely to ask you what you’re wearing. Or who, for some stupid reason.’ He rolled his eyes.

‘So should I …’

‘If you’re worried about anything, just let Hannah handle it. That’s what she’s there for.’

But his words made him wince inwardly.

He pictured Hannah feeding some fabricated story about him and Shelley to the press – and realized he didn’t want that either. The whole thing could run away far beyond tonight and turn into something he couldn’t row back on, could no longer control. That wasn’t fair on Shelley either.

Damn, this was all such a mess . . .

‘Hey, I’m sorry. I know this is a big deal for you. And I know I’m probably not saying the things I should because I have done this shit before. It will all be OK, though. Likely, the attention won’t even be on us, they’ll mostly be focused on the winners and we can just breeze through and go upstairs and take our seats,’ he told her, trying to sound more reassuring. ‘The night will be over before we know it and then we can figure out how to … um … break up.’

Shelley nodded, feeling happier. ‘Right. Yes. It will be over before we know it.’

‘Yeah. And you can always rely on some idiot to show up and start showboating on the red carpet – there’s always some rookie desperate to attract the cameras and take the focus off everyone else. That’s what we want. Or someone with some hot pop star on their arm, and no one is going to care about us.’

Shelley smiled, looking appeased, but maybe also a little disappointed, Ward noted. ‘So, fingers crossed for a showboater, then?’

‘Yeah. Someone who wants to be the centre of attention. Trust me. On nights like this, there’s always one.’

A little later, the limo driver cleared his throat and called from the front seat, ‘Mr McKenzie? We’ve arrived.’

The car pulled up at the edge of Hudson Yards Plaza and Ward turned his attention to the outside.

There was a bustle of activity beneath the iconic heart-shaped Vessel copper sculpture in front of the main building. Production people hurrying around, professional handlers shuttling clients to where they needed to be and photographers hoping to catch a glimpse of celebrity attendees before they headed into the holding tent that would lead them through the media area and then upstairs for the ceremony.