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Your Dress Is From The Charity Shop - (13)

I sigh dramatically, looking at him reproachfully. 'I'm not angry,' I say. 'I'm just disappointed, Ivan.'

His eyes meet mine and he lets out a loud bark of laughter before he can stop himself.

I notice lots of people turn to look at us, but neither of us pay attention to the whispers that begin to fill the room at the sight of us.

After a moment, he eventually stops laughing. 'Shall we get a drink?' he offers. 'I could do with one.'

I raise an eyebrow. 'Did I forget to mention that it's also because you're a borderline alcoholic?'

He smirks. 'Borderline, Poppy. Not a full alcoholic.'

I don't offer him a response as we walk into the room full of people, heading for the bar. Whispers and eyes follow us, but Ivan doesn't even seem to notice or care.

He orders himself a red wine and looks at me, arching his eyebrow. 'What would you like to drink, darling?'

I debate my answer for a moment, before asking a red wine for myself as well, deciding that I need to look sophisticated for this event.

We've just been handed our drinks when we're intercepted.

'Ivan, my man!'

A tall man with chestnut hair stands in front of us. His blue eyes are similiar to Ivan's, but not quite as blue or bright.

'Phillip,' Ivan greets him, reaching a hand out to shake the man's, while his other hand slips rather indiscreetly around my waist, drawing me closer to him.

'And who might this be?' Phillip glances at me, a large, welcoming smile on his face.

'I'm Poppy,' I introduce myself, smiling easily at me.

He doesn't hesitate in sweeping me up in an eager hug, placing a kiss on each of my cheeks. The gesture forced Ivan to drop his protective arm from my waist and he is not happy about it at all.

'Phillip,' Ivan glares at him, reaching for me once more.

I roll my eyes at him, but decide not to comment.

Phillip's only response is a cheeky smile, before he turns back to me. 'Phillip is awfully formal,' he frowns. 'Please call me Phil.'

'Phillip,' Ivan suddenly snaps. 'Please stop flirting with my date and make yourself useful by chatting up a woman who isn't taken.'

Phil grins at me. 'He's awfully possesive, isn't he? Don't let him get away with too much now, will you, Poppy? I'm going to go for now before he sends me six feet under, but I'll be back later for a dance,' he winks, before turning and leaving.

'Did you really have to do that?' I ask Ivan, fighting to keep my face and eyes neutral so nobody around us suspects anything, but I let my eyes flash momentarily.

He huffs. 'You're here with me, Poppy,' he murmurs quietly.

I'm just about to send him a sharp reply, but another man comes to speak to us. He's a lot older, with greying hair and a moustache.

'Ivan Garth, what a pleasure,' he extends a hand and shakes Ivan's hand firmly, before turning his twinkling brown eyes on me.

He reminds me oddly of my grandfather and I find comfort and confidence in that. 'Hello,' I smile at him. 'My name's Poppy.'

'Hello, Poppy,' he greets me with ease, pulling me in for a hug and kiss on the cheek, just like Phil, but this time Ivan doesn't react. 'I'm Hugh, one of Ivan's business partners.'