Josie glanced around but there was no one else she recognized in the entrance hall. She should have timed it better—deliberately arrived twenty minutes late or something. Although surely Laura, at least, must be inside somewhere. They checked their coats, and Josie felt a shiver run down her spine as she gave up her extra layer. When Max touched her bare shoulder to steer her in the right direction, she jumped, and he raised his eyebrows.
“Sorry,” she said, trying to smile even though her mouth was dry. “Just cold.” She glanced at him as they walked, though his attention was on the interior of the building, not her, looking up and around them, his lips occasionally moving as though he was silently talking. She realized she was twisting her hands in front of her and dropped them, deliberately flexing her fingers at her sides. She shouldn’t have brought Max with her. Now she had to try to pretend she was all breezy, at the same time as worrying about what he was doing and whether he was having a good time.
Josie led the way into the hall, and, like Max, she couldn’t help looking up as she did. The ceiling was phenomenal, arched over them like a dome in a beautiful lattice design. The windows were huge, the tops of them domed to match the ceiling, each one decorated with fairy lights, and there was a Christmas tree in each corner. There were circular tables dotted around the room, with what looked like a mini stage down the other end, and a large buffet-style table on one side. And there were people here, thank God. Josie let out a slow breath as she realized they were not the first ones to arrive, that the room was already filling up, people milling about with glasses in their hands or sitting at the tables in small groups, heads bent toward each other.
“I knew they’d renovated it in here, but I haven’t ever been in,” Max muttered, and Josie cocked her head up at him, not totally sure he was talking to her, given his gaze was still flicking around the building. “It’s impressive.”
“Prosecco?” A woman, dressed smartly in black and white, held out a tray to them and Josie took one of the glasses gratefully, taking a sip immediately.
They walked a little farther into the room, and Josie felt heat from somewhere caress her skin. There was music in the background, she realized now—not the usual Christmas tunes but something instrumental and classical; she could hear the violins. She searched the room for someone she knew, someone from her own company, and pressed her lips together when she saw Janice, sleek black hair twisted into a bun, sitting at one of the tables near a makeshift stage.
Josie stopped as Max turned in a small circle to admire the room a little more, and felt her face soften into a small smile. If the evening was a complete fiasco he’d at least have appreciated the architecture. He grinned a little guiltily at her when he saw her watching, then looked over her head, his gaze sharpening.
“Where are all the bikini models then?” Max asked, taking a sip of Prosecco. “It’s the only reason I came.”
“I knew there was an ulterior motive.”
He shrugged. “Of course.”
She laughed, then jolted, nearly spilling her drink, when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see Oliver, smiling in a way that looked painful. He was a bit pixieish, now that she thought about it, all clean-shaven and perfectly smooth hair, his frame quite obviously petite in his smart black jacket and maroon shirt—a nod to the festive season, she supposed. His eyes—the ones she’d described as chocolate when she’d first gushed about him to Bia, didn’t sparkle with pixie mischief tonight though, but rather looked a little mournful.
“Hey, Jose,” he said. “Happy Christmas Eve.” He reached out for a hug and, feeling it would make a scene if she refused, she returned it, trying not to think of how comforting and familiar he smelled, how her body remembered exactly where to fit against his. She pulled away as soon as she reasonably could. She glanced up at Max and though his expression gave nothing away, the perfect poker face, she was pretty sure he’d seen Oliver coming and made her laugh deliberately.
“Nice to see you again,” Max said affably, shaking Oliver’s hand.
Oliver frowned. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
Max smiled easily, a direct contrast to Oliver’s tense jaw. “It was a last-minute decision.”
Josie was saved from having to try to bridge the conversation when she saw a blond, broad-shouldered woman by the tray of Prosecco and waved her over, trying not to look desperate. Laura marched over to them at a speed that indicated she hadn’t broken her no-heels rule even for the party, with her fiancé, John, only ever known as Scottish John in the office, following a step behind her.