Setting my keys down onto the radiator cover by my front door, I chucked my work bag down and trudged to the bathroom to change. I hated relaxing in my work clothes.

It wasn't long before I returned to my work bag, gingerly taking out the glossy magazine I had hastily shoved inside. Walking past one of the corner shops outside the tube station by work, I couldn't help but stop and grab a copy.

I thumbed the brightly coloured pages, feeling guilt seep through me. It felt so scandalous to be reading the gossip about Callum Moore, but I was curious. That week alone he had made another four IT requests. Every time I fixed whatever 'problem' there was with his computer or printer, I could feel his eyes following me around the room as I moved.

He stared at me like I was a tall, icy drink on a hot day, and it made me want to scream.

In fact, he quite unashamedly watched me. Even when people were in the room, Callum was unbothered in his attraction. It unnerved and excited me, which I hated. He made it hard to fight my attraction to him, but I was also curious about how a man could be so unphased about others knowing his affairs.

'Smiles all around as Callum Moore strolls on Sunday date with new fiancée Freya Lux.'

There was something interesting about how the information was being pumped out. It seemed as if all of the tabloids had gone from regurgitating the same old story about Callum stumbling out of a club with a different woman on his arm each evening to prim and proper Sunday walks with a dog through Kensington and Chelsea. The dark, flashy images outside clubs had been swapped for daytime park pictures.

"Is it staged?" I mumbled to myself.

It certainly seemed that way. Their smiles were far too wide, and they always seemed to be looking right at the camera or staring dreamily at each other. Gone was Callum's bachelor persona and in its place was a doting husband-to-be.

Somebody wanted those photos to paint a certain image, and I was fairly certain I knew who.

Scanning the words written in the article, I shook my head.

'Freya Lux has proved it's possible to do the impossible by actually getting Callum Moore to tie the knot and settle down.'

"Cheating one day into your engagement being public knowledge? Sounds like that knot was tied a little too loose," I scoffed.

I felt horrible for the girl; Freya Lux was an innocent bystander in the storm that was Callum Moore and whether she had any clue about his cheating was beyond me. His reputation preceded him, so it was likely she did, but then why would she even attempt to marry him?

I had so many questions.

My phone began to ring, and I returned to my bag to fish it out of the front pocket. Swiping to answer, I flopped against my bed and held it to my ear to speak.

"Hi, Mum. Did you get the money I sent?"

"Thank you, darling," her voice croaked through from the other end. "You really don't have to. I'll manage without it, you know?"

That was a lie.

"Don't be silly, Mum," I reassured her. "I want to."

"Are you going out tonight, Millie?"

Glancing around my dimly lit studio flat, my eyes settled on my laptop at the end of my bed. The extent of my evening plans lay within the confines of that screen, but I didn't exactly want to tell my mother that my only source of entertainment on a Friday night came from a screen.

She knew me all too well.

"You should put yourself out there, darling." My mum's voice sounded strained. "There's so much to do and you're so young, Millie. You have the entire world to experience."

Glancing back at my laptop, I pulled a face. This was the third time she'd given me this exact spiel since I had moved out. My eyes continued to wander until they landed on the gossip magazine I had abandoned to take the call.

"I know, Mum," I entertained her. "In fact, some work colleagues and I are going to La Fête tonight."

I was lying through my teeth, and I felt horrible, but it made her happy to hear the lie. I was torn.

"You are?" The unadulterated excitement, and doubt, was clear in her voice.

"Of course. I was just about to start getting ready," the lie continued against my own free will.

"Oh, fantastic! Take lots of pictures to show me, darling. I won't keep you any longer; you make sure you have fun tonight."

She hung up before I could make an excuse, and I groaned. If I didn't come up with some pictures tomorrow morning, I would never hear the end of it. Dropping my phone, I stared up at the ceiling, searching my brain for a clue as to what to do. I was well and truly stuck in my lie.

"Why can't I just have an evening watching a movie?" I complained as I pulled myself up from my cosy, alluring bed.

Standing up, I began to pace back and forth (as best I could in a tiny studio flat). The only option in my mind was one I wished not to have to explore, but it seemed I was left without a choice. If I was going to lie, I was going to have to do it well. Grabbing my phone, I dialled for Ollie.

"Ollie, are you busy tonight?"

A pause came from the other side of the line, and I bit my lip, praying he was free.

"Millie, I was convinced you didn't exist outside of work. Are you feeling alright?" Ollie's familiar, sarcastic voice came through the speaker, "Never before have you been heard from outside of the nine-till-five hours."

"Well, there's a first for everything." I felt slightly guilty, "It seems I come out of the woodwork when I need something."

"And what is it you need?"

"A photo. It sounds really weird, but I need a photo of us outside of La Fête tonight as if we're going to go in." I felt embarrassed to request it, but it was a last resort.

"You're right, that does sound really weird." Ollie laughed, "Care to explain?"

Swallowing my pride, I explained to Ollie the circumstance. Revealing that I was a habitual hermit was bad enough but to admit that it was my mother who was encouraging me to be 'young and dumb' on a Friday night was a whole other level of mortifying.

"So, you're asking me to help you lie to your mother?" Ollie's amusement was evident.

"If you're not busy, yes," I said. "You'd be making a sick woman very happy."

Silence came through the receiver, and I sat waiting, anxious for his response. Fiddling with the magazine pages, I came to the conclusion that I was grateful for Callum Moore's 'change in lifestyle' because at least I wouldn't see him at the club this evening. He was too busy walking a tiny dog around rich streets, pretending to be faithful.

"Count me in, I'll see you in an hour outside Piccadilly tube station."

Ollie hung up rather abruptly, but I was grateful nonetheless.

Never before had I showered, blow dried my hair, and dressed so fast. I'd even grabbed my makeup bag and began to apply it on the tube, which was an experience altogether. My eyeliner took four tries after each shake and bump ruined it repeatedly.

Ollie was exactly where he promised he'd be, wearing a shirt and everything. He looked positively bemused by the entire situation. I'd had to swallow my pride to call him there, but I really appreciated him turning up.

"You'll never get into La Fête wearing those," Ollie criticised my choice in shoes.

"I wasn't joking when I said I only want a photo outside of the place. As far as I'm concerned, my bottom half is irrelevant if you can't see it in the photo. You're lucky I'm not rocking my pyjama bottoms: they're purple and fuzzy."

Ollie smiled, shaking his head at my antics.

"You sure this isn't a charade to casually bump into a certain CEO?"

I was highly offended at how low Ollie's estimation of me was: how pathetic.

"Absolutely positive," I confirmed. "It'll be a good night if I don't see him."

We strolled together towards the club, quickly becoming surrounded by drunken people as we walked further into the 'clubbing' area of the city. Plenty of people, especially those in suits who had remained long past happy hour, were standing outside the pubs and spilling into the roads with their plastic pints of beer.

It was an assault to my nose, but we persisted, walking around the crowds and towards La Fête. The club itself was inside of a rather inconspicuous building but I knew we had arrived from the queue lapping the outside. There was a glowing, obnoxious sign that illuminated the name, and two rather burly bouncers stood outside, managing the growing queue.

"You owe me for this." Ollie groaned, taking out his phone to take the photo with me in front of the sign.

The entire queue of people watched as we took our photo, us pretending to have fun to sell the lie. I appreciated Ollie's commitment to the act but felt rather like a queue-side freak show. It was a shame we weren't charging.

"What happened to La Fête not being your idea of fun?"

Without turning to look, I knew exactly whose voice that was. Unfortunately, I had spent rather a lot of time bickering with that voice in the past week. That usual conflicted flurry of emotions returned to me. Taking our last photo together, Ollie and I turned to face the source of the voice.

I was about to respond with a disgruntled quip when I noticed who Callum was standing next to: none other than Freya Lux herself. The magazines didn't really do her justice; she was absolutely gorgeous in real life. She had a deep, golden tan and her warm blonde hair was stylishly cropped in a choppy, shoulder-length cut. She looked sun-kissed.

The engaged couple stood together, Freya holding onto Callum's arm like it was the most natural thing in the world. They suited each other and, stood in front of me now, it was clear they came from the same world. They were, of course, flanked by security and the people queuing were watching excitedly.

Their queue-side entertainment had just become even more interesting.

"We're not going in, just passing by. In fact, we'll be off now."

Taking Ollie by the arm, I pulled him in the direction to leave but we were stopped by Callum's outstretched hand on my shoulder. His touch was gentle but unrelenting, bringing me to halt.

"You're not going to introduce me to your boyfriend?"

Ollie and I glanced at each other and shared a disgusted expression. The thought of being romantic with Ollie in any capacity made me nauseous; the love I felt for him was largely that of a dismissive, tired older brother.

"I'm the CEO, Millie. I make an effort to know these things." I did my best Callum impression, dropping my voice to his deep, husky tone and copying the words he'd said to me back last week.

"I take it you also work in IT?" Callum was speaking to Ollie who was trying to hold it together after my impression.

My silly behaviour provoked a burst of laughter from Freya Lux, drawing my eyes to her as a flash went off to the side of us.

"Millie, is it?" Freya outstretched her hand. "I'm Freya."

It felt bizarre to meet the woman that I had seen on countless magazine covers and read about in gossip articles. An heiress to a fortune that could solve world hunger, and she was shaking my hand as if it were a completely regular human interaction. I suppose that to her it was nothing but normal.

It was even more strange that I had made her laugh by mocking her partner. Her entire demeanour was so warm that it baffled my mind how somebody so sweet could end up with somebody like Callum Moore. Guilt leaked through every pore of my body as I thought about the way her fiancé looked at me and I felt the instant need to vomit the truth at her; her fiancé was a flirt and a cheat.

"Millie, you look like you've seen a ghost," Ollie whispered in my ear, resting his hand on the back of my arm to help stabilise me.

Callum's eyes followed Ollie's hand and stared at the point of contact. Freya's eyes followed and she glanced between Callum and I with an unreadable, poised expression. My stomach sank. Looking down at the floor, I racked my mind for ways out of the situation.

"It's been lovely to see you both but we're going to miss our dinner reservation so please excuse us." Ollie took control, guiding me out of there with his hand on my shoulder.

"Thank you," I whispered to him, not daring to glance back at where we left the happy couple.

"You double owe me."