it wasn’t mistrust that made zahara collect wesley from his very doorstep. she had enough faith in her friend to believe that he would be at the gala when he gave her his word. no, it was nothing so paranoid or shallow, it was pragmatism. why waste time searching for her partner in the masses of wealth worn in fine silk and polished silver, and make appearances when they were faced with more pressing concerns? the latter could not be helped; an unfortunate consequence of having wentworth tied pretilly to the end of her name, and eyre at the end of wesley’s. the least she could do was eliminate what little distraction was in her control.
the first came in the form of a red carpet and an army of hungry eyes behind a barrage of camera flashes, at the front of the hotel. the very public appearance of wesley eyre after almost half a decade of absolute silence. the media was going to have a bloody field day.
throughout the blinding ritual, zahara stood very rightly, spoke very nicely and smiled very politely. her arm linked in wesley’s to both aid and support, as well as to soothe the inherit stubbornness of which he had no shortage. “you are allowed to smile, darling,” she said through one of her own, “it’s a charity gala. not a funeral.”
@ofinkandeyre
