Page 70 of The Ring
I try to hold myself back, but I can’t help it. “You’re Benedict Glounger,” I say, my tone caught somewhere between astatement and a question. At minimum, I don’t sound entirely like an overexcited fan. I sound more like someone seeking confirmation. Which I am. Perhaps he’s just an exceptionally good lookalike.
Benedict chuckles lightly. “And you’re Cornelia Rose Monroe-Nodrick.” I grimace at the mention of my full name. “Good to have that out in the open.”
“You know who I am?” I ask, pleased. A lot of people know who I am, but I wouldn’t consider myself a celebrity like him.
He nods. “Of course, you and your friend group are like the UK Kardashians.”
Disgusting, but I understand the comparison. We’re famous for existing.
I look at him—he looks so handsome. An intrusive thought takes over, and I blurt out, “Blimey, I just met my TV crush in a cleaning cupboard,” instead of thinking it.
He burst out laughing. “I hope I haven’t disappointed you.”
I compose myself quickly. “You’re taller than I thought, but other than that, no. Six-one?”
“Six-two.” Benedict corrects me. “Now your turn. What brings you to this cleaning cupboard?”
“My ex is practically eating…” I pause. I almost use the wordactoras a derogatory term, but I don’t want him to think I’m judging the profession—what I’m judging is Weberly. She hasn’t acted or done anything relevant in years, and what she has done can barely be called acting. “A girl out there,” I finish.
Somehow, it feels easier to open up to a stranger about this than to someone I know. Maybe it’s because I know I’ll likely never see him again.
“Was that why you were crying?” he asks. I hoped he hadn’t noticed, but he did. He was just nice enough to act like he didn’t.
“It could be, but it could also just be allergies.”
“I’m sure,” he says. “Was this the same ex-boyfriend who slept with your mum?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Was it true that you all were in a quartet, but then they turned it into a duo?” He nearly bursts out laughing again as he says it, and I can’t help but smile. The sheer absurdity of that tabloid article still gets me, and yet people claim creativity is dead.
“Completely true,” I tell him, and we both chuckle.
“Either way, he doesn’t deserve you,” Benedict says.
I smile. “In that, we can agree.”
He glances around the cramped space. “Are you really keen on spending the entire party here, or is there any way I can convince you to go out and let me buy you a drink?”
He’s flirting, isn’t he?
“You do realise this is a private party, and the drinks are free, right?”
“I do, but it wouldn’t have sounded quite as good if I had phased it that way,” Benedict replies smoothly.
“In that case, how about several?”
Chapter 40
Cornelia
Several drinks, indeed. So many, in fact, that I ended up taking him home, and we couldn’t even wait until we got to my room—I’m fairly certain some of our clothes are still on the lift floor.
Yesterday was absolutely knackering, but in a good way. There was a lot of drinking, sex in the lift, sex in my shower, sex in my bed. Benedict has incredible stamina. He’s even better than what I’d imagined from seeing him on TV, if that’s even possible.
I glance over at him, and he smiles at me. He’s lying beside me on my bed, on top of my white duvet,completelynaked.He told me he likes sleeping naked, and I wasn’t about to tell Benedict Glounger not to sleep naked in my bed. Would you to your TV crush?
Like me, he looks half-awake, half-asleep, though leaning more towards the sleep side. I’m considering drifting back off myself.
