Hmm. Time to change the subject, I think, brain.
Kit Charleston is the very last person I should be thinking about right now. He wasn’t right for me then and he’s no doubt not right for me now. People don’t change. Not really.
And I’m probably only projecting these inappropriate feelings onto him because of how out of control Adrian’s left me feeling.
Sexual jealousy is a potent aphrodisiac.
I take my passport back from the receptionist when she hands it over and return her bow as she gives me the key card to my room.
‘The porter will be back any moment to take your suitcase to your room and show you around, madam,’ the receptionist says.
I hold up my hand. ‘No need. Thank you. Can you just point me in the right direction? I’d rather find my room myself. And I’m fine with my suitcase,’ I add. I really don’t want to get into the wholedo I tip?head-mash thing again.
‘Of course,’ the receptionist says with a confused smile. Clearly people who come here don’t normally tend to lug their own bags around. ‘You’re down this corridor, to the very end, and it’s the last room on the right.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, giving her a bright smile, before setting off in the direction she’s sent me.
I find my room easily and let myself in with the key card.
After taking off my shoes in the entrance hall and pointing them towards the door, I walk into the room and gasp in glee. It’s even more beautiful than the website made it look. I’d been worried it would actually be a bit pokey and more soulless than it seemed in the pictures, but no. It’s perfect.
There’s a huge black-lacquered four-poster bed, with crisp white cotton sheets and squidgy-looking pillows, and on each side hang semi-opaque silk drapes which can be pulled round for privacy. By both sides of the bed stand elegant urushi-e black-lacquered cabinets with paper panels and gold detail handles. The walls of the room are painted in a soft duck-egg blue and there’s wood-coloured rush matting on the floor, giving the sense of the outdoors inside. Through the large windows I can see the lush green banks of the river and the water flowing past, the sun glinting off the surface and making it sparkle.
It’s the height of opulence and good taste.
Leaving my suitcase by the wardrobe, I stumble over to the bed, pull off my clothes, which I leave in an untidy pile on the floor, and crawl under the covers.
I’m so ridiculously tired now after being up for a whole day there’s no way I’m keeping my eyes open till 9p.m., like they advise you do if your flight lands in the morning.
Sod that. I need to sleep. Just for a couple of hours. Then I’ll be refreshed and ready to enjoy my first evening here.
My eyelids are so heavy now I have to squint through them to set the alarm on my phone, and once that’s done I dump it onto the nightstand and pull the covers up over my head, immediately sinking into a beautiful deep sleep.
* * *
Kit
I can’t sleep.
Even though my body’s telling me it’s actually the early hours of the morning in the UK and I should have a kip, my brain is determined to keep me awake.
Bloody Chloe Dasher.
Seeing her has made my mind spin and dredged up intense memories of how hot we’d been together.
She’s still got it. More thanitin fact.
I can’t help but laugh, though not with any kind of joy.
Bloody hell.
Talk about bad timing.
Why did I have to bump into her now, when she’s in a bad place?
And how did my life go tits-up like this?
It was looking so good there for a while. I had everything I’d ever wanted. Money, status, a beautiful fiancée, excitement about my future. The world was my fucking oyster.
