Page 5 of In Knots

“You aren’t very talkative,” Simon says with a hint of annoyance. I draw open my eyes and smile primly up at him, placating him a little. “Although, if truth be told, I like my women quiet.” I’m not sure if that is a joke or not. The notes of the song are dying away though, so I break away from him firmly.

“I’m not much of a talker,” I tell him, picking at the skirt of my dress. “Thursday would be lovely. I’ll see you then.”

I hurry away before he can grab me for another dance.

* * *

I pick up my towel from the rack and dab at my face as I walk from the spinning studio, my chest still heaving after the punishing workout. Someone taps me on the shoulder.

“Are you coming for lunch?” Margo asks, swiping her own towel over her face, the large diamond ring on her left hand sparkling under the studio lights.

“Not today,” I say, pulling a face, “duty calls.”

“Another date?” Margo says, her eyebrows waggling. “I’ve lost count of the number you’ve been on now.”

“No, not a date.” I tug the hair elastic from my hair and let my dark locks tumble down over my shoulders. “Volunteering at my mother’s foundation.”

“Oh God. Is she still insisting you do that?”

I imitate my mother’s voice. “Until you find yourself a suitable alpha, you need to at least appear as if you’re providing some use to this world.”

Margo rolls her eyes. “I can’t wait to marry Daniel and escape my mother.”

“Me too. Escape my mother I mean.”

Margo laughs and pushes against the heavy changing room door. More fresh towels have been laid out, so I dump my used one in the basket and strip off my clothes, plunging under cool water and washing my hair.

“I hear you were at the Johnson’s last night.” Margo calls over the roar of the water.

“Uh huh,” I hum back as I scrub shampoo into my scalp.

“Rumour has it you were occupying rather a lot of Simon Stanford’s attention.”

I groan. “How do you know about that?’

“My aunt was there. Spoke to my mum this morning. He’s just returned from the States, right? And I hear he’s looking mighty fine.”

“I suppose,” I mutter, vaguely recalling that he’d said something about studying abroad. I hadn’t been paying attention.

“So, he has potential? He asked you out?”

“Hmmmm,” I hum, noncommittal.

Margo groans this time. “You’re getting yourself a reputation, you know?”

“I am?”

“Yes, as a picky prude. If you keep turning every eligible bachelor down, you’re going to end up with no one.”

“Oh,” I say, plunging my head under the force of water, letting it run into my eyes and my mouth. For a moment, I can’t breathe, and I relish the burn in my lungs until it’s too much and I throw my head forward gasping for air. Ending up alone. It doesn’t sound as bad as they all make out.

When I step out of the cubicle, Margo is waiting for me with her towel wrapped around her torso, her long tanned legs crossed, and her toenails painted red.

“I don’t understand why you are so picky. My brother–”

“Your brother is lovely,” I say. “But there was no chemistry there. I’m sure he told you that.”

“My brother liked you a lot,” Margo says with a frown.

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