Page 112 of The King Contract
Callum lets out a wolf whistle and starts punching the air. “Fuck, yes!”
I laugh at him. “I can’t wait to tell the boys and Millie. Hell, I might even have a beer to celebrate.”
Callum’s busy dancing to whatever’s playing on the radio when I notice the clock inside the car reads 6.07pm. My stomach lurches, and I snap my head back at my watch. Nope, definitely 5.07pm.
The song on the radio fades into a DJ chatting through the speakers. “This is 93.4 FM, the Gold and Tweed Coast’s number one hit music station. My name is Todd Hanson, and I hope you’re staying dry out there . . .”
I know what the announcer is going to say before the words leave his mouth, and I feel the blood drain from my face.
“It’s gone five o’clock on the Gold Coast, six o’clock on the Tweed Coast. Stick around while we play some more hits on the Coast’s number one hit music station . . .”
A silent scream of panic fills my mind as I realise the enormity of my mistake. I forgot about daylight savings. The party was over the border in Queensland, where everything is an hour behind. It might be just after five o’clock here, but it means once we cross back into New South Wales . . .
No, no, no.This can’t be happening.
I make eye contact with the driver in the rearview mirror. “Put your foot down.”
46
MILLIE
Not what it looks like
The last ofthe guests leave the store, waving goodbye as they duck out into the downpour outside. I wave cheerily after an event that went better than I could’ve imagined. I’ve had interest for freelance gigs from three different people and I was even brave enough to give a short speech. Doing something I was terrified to do is the biggest rush of all.
Except, Noah never showed.
My disappointment has morphed into genuine concern. No one’s been able to get in touch with him or Callum. What if something happened at the event? What if he and Callum got into an accident? It started pouring rain during my exhibit, so I wouldn’t be surprised if the roads were crazy busy.
I close the front door to find the room empty. Ellis was walking a couple of people to their cars with umbrellas, but Dan and Mack were here moments ago. When I hear voices coming from the back room, I head towards it, slowing down when I hear the alarm in Mack’s voice. “We’ve got a big problem!”
Dan’s tone is deadly. “Lower your voice.”
“Noah’s a fucking idiot,” Mack hisses.
An unpleasant, tingly sensation claws at the back of my head.
“What do you mean?” Dan asks, worry and reluctance etched in his voice.
“Surf King and Makeup Queen rekindle their fiery romance,” Mack dictates aloud. “What was the point of all this work if he was going to throw it away as soon as he saw that crazy red head?”
Nausea washes over me as my trembling hands fish out my phone. One search of Noah’s name in the search engine and it’s as if someone dumped a bucket of icy cold water over my entire body. It’s what I imagine walking through a ghost must feel like if Harry Potter is to be believed, and I have no reason to doubt him.
Photos are plastered across a celebrity gossip page and as I swipe through the images, I realise there’s no way I’m not seeing what I’m seeing. Noah with Sofia, the two of them looking ridiculously Hollywood as they kiss in a booth of the exclusive party they’re attending. Noah’s eyes appear half-shut, and Sofia’s mouth is definitelyonhis.
My phone almost slips from my hand as I swallow down the urge to vomit up the recent champagne and mini quiches.
“Everyone’s going to think he’s cheating on Millie!” Mack cries. “Why didn’t hewaitto kiss her in public? A couple of weeks and this wouldn’t have mattered. I’ll have to ask Millie to go public and make a post about how they’d already split. We’ve got to do something to save this shitshow?—”
“Mack.” The venom in Dan’s tone is threatening, and I sense his presence before I see him. Dan’s stepped out of the back room, expression tight. “It’s probably not what it looks like. Are you alright?”
I don’t answer him as Mack ducks out of the room, his face falling when he sees me. I quickly close my eyes to block out his look of pity or shock or whatever’s happening on his face.
I concentrate on breathing in through my nose. Deep,deepbreaths, to slow my heart rate. That’s what Noah told me what to do during our surf lesson. If I ever tumble through a wave or fall off a rock in a storm again, I need to recover quickly. Deep, controlled breaths through the nose and out through the mouth.
I try my best not to panic, not to jump to the worst conclusion, but it’s as if my body takes complete control to protect me, searching for answers to this turn of events. Somewhere in the far corners of my mind, I recall Noah mentioning fake-dating someone would help make his ex-girlfriend jealous. I remember the internet articles about his partying, the supermodels draped over him every other night. He made a point of telling me he didn’t want a girlfriend and yet, somewhere along the way, I forgot about that.
Noah’s used to this lifestyle. Maybe this is how he treats women he wants to sleep with and why he’s been so affectionate with me. Maybe he got caught up in the lie until what he really wanted was back in front of him. Maybe he really is the fuckboy people warned me about.
