The crowd gasp and coo as though they’re being let in on Ryan’s deepest secrets, which truthfully they are. Though they’re not just his secrets. They’re mine too. Right now, I can’t bring myself to care about the repercussions his announcement might bring.
Such is life, indeed.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
RYAN
17thDecember
As amazing as Vegas was, it was fucking exhausting. Or perhaps I’ve just lost the horn for it now I have more meaningful things in my life again. Namely, my relationship with Sasha and the prospect of our first Christmas together.
It’s only five p.m. but I could cheerfully drag her straight to my bed. I might even let her sleep, once I’ve satisfied both of us, that is.
The temperature has dropped since we left. Crisp frost embellishes the ferns lining the driveway, hundreds of tiny stars sequin the clear sky above. White fairy lights adorning the castle twinkle, dipping and brightening in a soothing cycle.
It’s the perfect night for a hot tub on the terrace, if I can prise my girlfriend away from her sisters.
Chloe and Victoria practically fly out the castle door to greet us. From the welcome they extend, you’d think we’d been gone months not days.
‘How was it?’ Chloe asks at the same time as Victoria shrieks, ‘Did you bring me back a present?’
Both Sasha’s sisters envelop her in a ginormous hug, creating a Sasha sandwich.
One of the porters takes Sasha’s bags. ‘Thank you so much, James,’ she calls over Victoria’s shoulder.
‘Is that a Louis Vuitton bag I see?’ Victoria’s animated shriek has me visibly wincing.
Pierce arrives with Frankie and Archie, relieving the security staff that travelled with us. The castle gates are absolutely crawling with paparazzi. It’s my own fault. I gave them Sasha’s name. Though it’s an inconvenience being swamped again, I can’t bring myself to regret it. I wanted the world to know she’s mine – now they do.
Pictures of us strolling the Strip in Vegas headline every single newspaper both sides of the Atlantic.
Sasha got her own double-page spread in most of them, but because she’s been keeping a low profile for the last ten years, there were hardly any pictures of her online. Smart girl. Everyone wants to know more about my mysterious brunette, the unofficial queen of Huxley Castle. It’s probably one of the reasons we’ve been offered millions in exclusive interview deals, none of which we’ve accepted yet, though to me, it’s a no-brainer.
It’s not like we need the cash, but Sasha could invest it straight back into the castle. Honestly, I’d just love to get our story out to the world and then maybe they’ll let us crack on with actually living it.
Megan greets us in the reception area, also throwing her arms around my girlfriend. ‘Oh. My. God. It looks like you had an amazing time! Do you know that Evangeline Araceli dress you wore to the concert has sold out everywhere? It’s all over social media, pictures of you sipping champagne in your private booth, draped in that stunning rose gold silk. You looked like you were made for that life.’
Sasha glances at me, squirming uncomfortably for some reason as Megan ushers us into one of the castle’s private drawing rooms behind the reception desk. The double-height, rectangular room is tastefully decorated with the usual navy and white theme, and thick expensive wallpaper lines the fireplace where flaming orange logs offer a welcoming warmth.
‘Actually, I did hear it sold out. Evangeline called me yesterday to ask if she could send over a few more items that I might wear to any events we have.’
‘Evangeline called me yesterday,” Megan imitates Sasha in an extremely poor fashion. ‘Holy fucking shit that’s unbelievable. The woman is one of the hottest fashion designers to grace this earth.’ Her hand clamps over her mouth but it does nothing to silence her shrieks.
Sasha nods, but her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She perches on a navy velour couch, motioning for the rest of us to sit. ‘How’s everything been here?’
Between the last few days, the concerts and the jetlag, I’m beat, but I sit anyway. She sat through three concerts in a row, the least I can do is sit through a cup of tea and an update on the castle.
Chloe and Victoria take the couch opposite us and one of the young waiting staff wheels in a trolly loaded with tea and fancy triangular-cut sandwiches, placing them on the table between us.
‘Also unbelievable. That new quantity surveyor has whipped everyone into shape. When she shouts jump, every construction worker in the country asks how high. She’s fantastic. There’s no denying the place is going to be a bit of a building site for a while but the way she’s going, the rebuild will be finished in a matter of weeks rather than months.’
Sasha lets out a sigh of relief, her tense shoulders visibly relaxing a full inch lower.
‘I know you’ve only just arrived in the door, but we need to talk about a rebrand. I get you always wanted to preserve things, do things the way your parents did.’ Megan shoots a sympathetic look at the three sisters before continuing. ‘But seriously, the interest you and lover-boy have caused in this place is sensational. With a bit of modernisation, and a few clever tweaks, this place could be turning over millions each year.’
Sasha swallows hard, glances at each of her sisters and nods. ‘I’ve been thinking about it a lot and I think it’s time. I’ve been honouring Mam and Dad’s legacy, and it nearly cost us our own. It’s time we moved with the times, as long as you both agree?’
I’m not surprised. She said as much over the past few days. Perhaps the break provided a little more clarity. Or dare I dream to believe she might hand over the reins to someone else and come and live stateside with me?
