Page 78 of Vivacity
I wish I felt more certain that we’re on the right side of this thing with the Montagues. It’s hard to look at Charles Montague and Richard Kingsley side by side and believe that I’ve chosen the right ally. Not that I’ve actuallychosenhim—not for a second. But I wish I felt less shitty. I didn’t miss Charles’ heavy-handed dig at our plans to cut his employees. It would have been impossible to miss.
And I wish, at the very least, that Soph didn’t have to feel as though she was sleeping with the enemy. I wish—entirely for her sake—that there was a reality where we could socialise with them as a couple. These people are her friends, after all. She’s known them for years and years.
Unlike my father, I’m mature enough to understand that things aren’t always black and white, good or bad. The Montagues are good people—better than we are, without a doubt, which explains why their cost base is more bloated than ours. Dad may be right that softness doesn’t drive excellence, but Charles and Miles’ brand of integrity has to count for something.
As I stand there,completely alone in a roomful of people I know, I realise to my intense discomfort that Miles Montague is making his way to the bar. Too late, he spots me, but he doesn’tgive me the cold shoulder. Unlike some members of my family, he has basic manners. Basic decency.
He nods curtly at me and turns to where the servers are milling about behind the bar.
‘That was a great speech,’ I say. It’s an olive branch, albeit a lame one.
He doesn’t look at me. ‘Yeah. It was. Scotch, neat, please,’ he says to a server.
‘I could barely see it from where we were sitting, but still.’
His mouth twitches, and he looks over.
‘My brother’s idea, but I wholeheartedly approved it.’
‘I bet you did.’ I try to laugh, but it’s more of a sigh. ‘My dad was fuming. Still is.’
‘So my work is done. What did you expect? A front-row seat? A spotlight? You’ll get that next year.’
‘No, mate.’ I shake my head. ‘Didn’t expect anything less. I’d like to think I’d have had the balls to do the same, if the tables had been turned.’
He accepts his scotch, thanks the server, and looks at me properly then.
‘That’s the thing. The tables would never have been turned. We would never have pulled a stunt like that, because we’re not led by our egos. We have nothing to prove. I mean, your father’s behaviour is no surprise, obviously. He’s a fucking narcissist, if ever I saw one. But I thought you were more decent than him. Relatively speaking, anyway. So what the hell your excuse is, I have no fucking clue.’
He goes to walk away from the bar, but I stop him with a hand on his arm. There’s something about that word, and the way he said it, that has alarm bells ringing. ‘Wait—what do you mean by that?’
He looks at me blankly. ‘I meant what I said.’
‘Was it a turn of phrase, or… narcissism, I mean? You didn’t mean it literally?’
‘Well, it’s always a hard one to diagnose clinically. Narcissists aren’t exactly known for their introspective natures. But I was married to one, and let’s say I’ve read every book there is on the subject.’
I’m extremely confused now. ‘You’re saying Allegra was a narcissist.’
Miles’ ex-wife is a beautiful socialite. Truly stunning. I didn’t know her well enough to judge her character, although I do know she abandoned Miles and his daughter Bea, who was then two years old, during lockdown, taking off to LA for a new lover and a yoga empire. It was all over the tabloids at the time.
His lips press together before he answers. ‘I am. And I’m the oblivious dickhead who not only married the woman but waited for her to walk out on us instead of taking Bea and running for the hills.’
‘Shit. I’m so sorry.’ I truly am. There may be beef between us—a lot of it—but I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy, even if Saoirse seems like the sweetest woman ever.
He nods awkwardly.
‘And you think my father is a narcissist—like a proper one?’
That gets a humourless laugh out of him. ‘An absolute textbook case. I can recognise them at a hundred feet now. Sorry to be the one to break it to you, pal.’ He picks up his glass and goes to leave again. ‘But like I said. Doesn’t give you an excuse to follow blindly in his egotistical footsteps. Look, I have to go find Saoirse.’
With that, he turns and vanishes into the throng.
CHAPTER 35
Sophia
Ethan ushers me into his office as soon as I turn up. He stayed at my house after the awards dinner last night, and I distracted him from his unique brand of melancholy stress the best way I knew how: with sex. He fell asleep in my arms almost immediately. Early this morning, he went home to shower and change. He looks tired this morning, but he still beat me in here. His beauty routine is a little more pared-back than mine, I’ll warrant.
