These days, every pint with Jake feels like staring into a mirror at the life I used to have. And all I can feel is the weight of what I’ve become. Board meetings that drain my soul. Reports full of projections and buzzwords. All this—boardrooms, media write-ups—was the dream once, back when I was an apprentice covered in plaster dust.
I remember being sixteen, ready to punch walls from boredom. Algebraic equations and Shakespeare when all I wanted was to build something real with my hands.
The apprenticeship saved me. Gave me room to breathe and build and dream.
Now I’ve got ten hotels across the UK. TheFinancial Timescalled it a “boutique empire.”
But fuck me if anything’s ever beaten the rush of restoring that first house. Eight months freezing in an attic with dodgy plumbing, living on beans on toast. Watching a wreck come back to life under my hands.
“Hey, Georgie mentioned she’s headed to Skye for work. She seems excited.”
I blink. They’re sendingGeorgieto Skye for the rollout? What the fuck is Craig playing at?
“Right,” I say, keeping my voice level.
“Good for her. She needs a change of scenery. It’s brilliant to see her doing well in the company. Means a lot to me, mate. Thanks.”
My jaw tightens. “I don’t get involved in decisions like that.” I clear my throat. “I’m sure she’ll… enjoy Skye.”
Christ. I have to trust my managers to manage, but sending Georgie?
I can’t afford weak links there. Not when I’m about to start the application for Forbes Five Star designation at Clachmòr House. Out of all my hotels, that Scottish beauty means the most to me. Every detail must be perfect.
If she couldn’t hold it together in a boardroom, how the hell is she supposed to handle a rollout? Is she spinning Jake some story about how well she’s doing?
“You see much of her around the office?” Jake asks. “I try not to interfere, but our great-aunt just died. I think she’s been a bit low.”
“I don’t keep tabs on her day-to-day. Better for me to keep my distance, given my position.”
I’m not about to let him think I’m some noble bastard watching out for her. And I had no fucking clue Craig was planning to send her.
“Of course.” Jake nods, accepting that. “Professional boundaries and all that. Just… keep an eye on her in Skye, yeah? I worry about her being alone up there, and I’m never around. The guilt’s real, mate.”
The last thing I need is to babysit Jake’s sister. Especially one who already flinches every time I walk into a room. But Jake’s been there for me more than once.
I pause a beat too long.
“Of course,” I say finally. “I’ll make sure she’s alright.”
“Cheers.” He waves for another round, launching into some story about Norwegian customs and suspicious camping gear.
I nod along, but my mind’s stuck on what I’ve just promised.
Little Georgie Fitzgerald. In Skye. Under my watch.
Feels like a fucking terrible idea.
SEVEN
The last thing I’ll ever see
Georgie
Inverness is experiencing spring,though you’d never guess. It’s technically still Britain, but I feel like I’ve been dropped into a Scandinavian crime drama where everyone wears hand-knitted jumpers and solves murders while staring pensively at lochs. Any minute now, someone will hand me a pickled herring and ask me to identify a body.
On the plus side, I’m approximately five hundred miles from Craig.
Following HR’s instructions, I make my way to a reception building near the airport. Skye’s at least four hours away by road, with a single bridge onto the island.
