Chapter Seven: The Proud Aunt

Anastasia Greene Johnson

“You can’t be serious, ma’am?” I asked, half amused, half convinced I’d misheard her.

  She gave a soft chuckle.

“Oh, I suppose it doesn’t exactly look as though someone that famous could be my nephew, does it?”

  I stiffened. That had come out rather insulting. Thankfully, Mrs. Stanfield didn’t seem offended—if anything, she looked entertained.

“Um. . . that’s not what I meant, ma’am. I just. . . well. . .”

“Oh, honey, no need to explain. I understand.” She waved it away. “Alex is my brother’s son. Though it’s been years since I last saw him in person. Probably when he was thirteen or so. As you already know, the boy is frightfully busy. I haven’t even watched many of his films, which he never lets me forget. But as you can see—” she smiled proudly, “I’m quite the proud aunt.”

  Mrs. Stanfield carried on chatting, leaving me speechless for a good while.

“I—I see. But you’ve never bragged about it to anyone before.”

  She burst out laughing.

“Well. . . what would I say? The banners plastered all over the place do a far better job of bragging than I ever could. Besides, I never thought anyone would care whose nephew he was.” She paused, fixing me with a mischievous glint. “Although, apparently, you seem rather interested in my nephew.”

“No, no.” I shook my head, heat creeping into my cheeks. “I—I mean. . . well. . . he’s a good actor, that’s all.” I muttered sheepishly.

  Mrs. Stanfield chuckled, clearly enjoying my spectacularly flustered state, and rested a hand on my shoulder.

“That, he certainly is. He won the Oscar last year. It was such a proud-aunt moment watching him on television, even though he looked absolutely terrified up there. But I understood. He was never a particularly outspoken child.”

“Isn’t that right? I’ve noticed that about him too. He seems like quite the introvert.”

  The moment the words left my mouth, I realised I sounded far more invested than I meant to.

  Mrs. Stanfield’s lips curved into a knowing smirk.

  Oh, boy. What ideas are spawning in her head now?

“Well, if you want, I could personally—”

  I didn’t let her finish.

“No, no!” I blurted, shaking my head so vigorously it nearly became a workout of its own. “Mrs. Stanfield, it’s just a celebrity crush, nothing more. He’s simply one of my favourite actors. Besides, I already got a picture with him yesterday.”

“Oh! Well, that’s lovely, then.” She smiled. “He’ll be staying here for a while with his crew anyway. They’re filming his upcoming movie nearby, so you’ll probably see him quite often.”

  That caught my attention.

“Wait, really?”

“Yes. Though I can’t tell you much about the film. You’ll have to ask him yourself.”

  She said it so miserably that I couldn’t help laughing.

“It’s alright. We’ll all find out when it’s released anyway.”

“Also, you’re going to love this.” Her smile widened. “He’s going to be a special guest at the restaurant’s twenty-fifth anniversary.”

  I stared at her.

  Again.

  Apparently, that was becoming my speciality whenever Alexander was involved.

“It wasn’t part of the original plan. But since he’s here anyway, he agreed to it,” she continued. “Although, you’re the only one who knows for now.”

“I—I. . . well, I don’t even know what to say. What’s he going to do?”

“Well, there’ll be something of a fashion show, complete with a runway. My daughter came up with the idea when she heard Alex was coming. It’s all just for fun, and anyone can participate. Apparently, she’s decided to force her poor cousin into showing off his supermodel talents.”

  I laughed at the way she described it. It actually sounded entertaining.

“That sounds quite fun, actually.”

“Mmm-hmm. Of course it does. After all, it came straight out of my daughter’s wonderfully chaotic head.” Her mocking tone made me smile.

“Stella can be quite amusing sometimes.”

“No, she’s like that all the time. Especially when Alex is around. She’s loved tormenting him since they were children. Put the two of them together and they’re practically Tom and Jerry.”

“Typical sibling behaviour. Me and my little—”

  The words died in my throat. A sharp ache pierced my chest as a vague memory surfaced.

  My little brother. . . right.

“Ana? What happened?”

  Mrs. Stanfield’s concerned voice pulled me back. I blinked quickly, fighting the sudden sting behind my eyes.

“Um. . . what I meant was, siblings and cousins usually behave like that, you know.”

“Exactly. Although my daughter can be a bit much. She even organised a couple-dance competition and bullied Alex into participating.”

“A couple-dance competition?”

  That was news to me. I hadn’t realised the anniversary celebration would include anything like that. I’d assumed it would be the usual affair—good food, drinks and polite conversations.

“Apparently, my nephew became rather famous for a ballroom scene in his latest film, so my daughter decided that meant he had to dance in front of everyone.” She shook her head fondly. “I’ll make an official announcement soon so everyone can participate with their partners. There’s no particular genre, either. Anything goes.”

“Oh. . . that actually sounds interesting.”

“Uh-huh. Of course it does to you. Brynn told me you used to be a ballerina. You should perform in the—”

“N-no, Mrs. Stanfield.” I shook my head, insecurity creeping into my voice. “It’s been far too long since I stopped dancing. I don’t even know if I’d be any good anymore.”

“Oh, honey, it doesn’t matter. It’s only meant to be a bit of fun.”

“Still, I’m not confident enough. But thank you for asking.”

“Alright, I understand.” She smiled. “Nevertheless, don’t forget to come to the party. You’ve worked here for nearly three years, and you’re one of the finest employees I’ve had. I’d genuinely be disappointed if you didn’t turn up.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I really do want to come. I’m just not sure what to do about my son. The party will probably run until midnight.”

“How is that a problem? Bring him with you.”

“I wish I could. But he doesn’t really like parties or noisy places, so I’ll probably have to leave him at a friend’s house for the night.”

“Aww. . . would you look at that? He’s only six and already behaving like a grown man?”

“I’m afraid so. The way he acts like an adult sometimes genuinely frightens me. I’m not ready for him to grow up this quickly.”

  I meant every word. Mrs. Stanfield seemed to understand.

“I completely understand. I felt exactly the same when my children were little. But look at them now—they grew up in the blink of an eye.” She sighed, nostalgia softening her voice. “Even my little Stella is turning eighteen in a few months. Time really does have wings.”

  I tightened my grip around the strap of my handbag, already dreading the day Ruslan would become an adult. More than that, I worried about the man he would eventually become.

  I just prayed he wouldn’t grow into someone like his father.

“Well, you should get going now,” Mrs. Stanfield reminded me. “Ruslan must be waiting for you at home.”

“Um. . . y-yeah. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I finally left the restaurant, trying to shove those darker thoughts back into whatever corner of my mind they had crawled out from. I was so lost in them that I failed to notice the unmistakable shape of a Lamborghini approaching.

  By the time I did, it was far too late. I braced myself for the impact.

  The car screeched to a halt.

“Hey! You alright there?” The familiar voice came from inside the vehicle.

  Then I realised.

  Alexander’s car. His friend leaned out from the passenger seat, worry etched all over his face.

  It suddenly dawned on me what an incredibly stupid way I’d nearly chosen to die.

  How could I be thinking about something else while crossing the friggin’ road? What is wrong with me?

“Y-yeah! I—I’m really sorry!” I called towards Alexander’s friend, mortification burning through me. “It’s my fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  I hurried out of the way. His friend gave me one last once-over, apparently checking for injuries, before nodding and turning back inside.

  That was when I caught a glimpse of Alexander behind the wheel. Dark sunglasses rested over his nose as he drove away as casually as though he hadn’t nearly sent my soul into the afterlife. Behind him followed a black Rolls-Royce SUV packed with bodyguards.

  I stood there for a moment, wiping the sweat from my forehead.

  So he’d been inside the restaurant this entire time? Or had he simply stopped for lunch and left now?

  I pondered it briefly before my phone rang. It was Mrs. Dixon—the mother of Justin, one of Ruslan’s friends. She told me Ruslan would be spending the night at their house.

  It wasn’t unusual anymore. Ruslan practically spent half the month at the Dixons’, and I trusted them completely. So I had no reason to object.

  And, as luck would have it, that meant I suddenly had an evening to myself.

  I immediately texted Brynn.

‘Movie. Dinner. Tonight. I haven't had proper time for myself in ages.’

  For once, I was going to let the world spin without me.

• • •