“That’s not true, and you know it.”
“OK, I do care about the hotel. But I care about you too. A lot. You matter to me, Kate,” Henry said. His irritation and anger had vanished, and in his eyes, I now saw nothing but affection. “You matter so much. And I don’t want to have to choose between you and The Darlington just because my dad screwed up. I want you in my life, and I’m prepared to fight for you. Are you prepared to fight?”
I saw the fear flicker in Henry’s eyes. But it wasn’t fear of what people might think, or what the press might report. It wasn’t even fear for the hotel. He was afraid of losing me. And there was no way I would let that fear become reality, because he was just as important to me.
Henry suddenly felt too far away, even though he was sitting right next to me. I got onto his lap. He looked surprised—and then I leaned in to kiss him. The kiss was gentle and loving, passionate and deep. It was everything—and so much more. He wrapped hisarms around me, and I melted into his embrace, holding him as tightly as I could. I never wanted to let him go. He had been there for me ever since we met, giving me a chance when no one else had believed in me. And in return, he had asked for nothing—which was probably why I wanted to give him everything.
“I’m ready to fight for it too,” I murmured against his mouth. With the next kiss, I felt his smile on my lips. It warmed me from within and gave me hope. I was confident now that Randell wouldn’t succeed in ruining my life again. I wouldn’t let him. And this time, I wouldn’t have to face him alone. I had Henry by my side.
52
How are you? Let me know if I can do anything for you.
Are we still on for our coffee date?
Message from Olivia to Kate
Kate
Once upon a time, I ran for fun.
Later, I ran to survive.
Today, I ran to forget.
I didn’t want to think about how Randell had dragged my past into the public eye like a corpse—one that was now being eviscerated and dissected by the media. It seemed like all of England was talking about the homeless whore who had snapped up one of the most esteemed bachelors of British high society. Thanks to Vivian and a sum of money—the enormity of which I didn’t want to think about—the video of Randell’s interview was no longer online. Henry had paid for it to be removed, but the damage was already done. Every media outlet had picked up the story and run with it, and had started to dig deeper. They’d found old tourist photos from St. James’s Park in which I was visible in the background.And men who claimed to have been my clients shared their alleged experiences with me, all of them just looking for their five seconds of fame. It was creepy and terrifying. People kept making up more stories, because the worse I looked, the more scandalous and provocative my relationship with Henry seemed—and the more clicks the articles generated. There were now hundreds of them online.
“When can we stop?” Grace groaned on the treadmill next to me. We were at The Darlington’s gym, which was technically only for hotel guests, but Henry had given me permission to use it as well. I had been working out a lot since the interview last week. I needed something to distract me from the chaos.
I looked at Grace. A strand of blond hair had already escaped her ponytail. Sweat glistened on her forehead, and her cheeks were flushed. “You can stop anytime you want.”
“I want to do this in solidarity with you.”
I had been grateful for our friendship before, but in the past few days, the feeling had multiplied. After my conversation with Henry, I had called Grace as I’d promised. I had answered all her questions and dispelled the lies Randell had spread in his interview. I had also told her the truth about how Henry and I had met. Instead of responding with anger or disappointment, she had shown nothing but understanding and support.
“You can be supportive while sitting down.”
“Thank god!” Grace stopped the treadmill and dragged herself over to the bench where we had left our water bottles and towels. She took a sip of water and wiped her face. I could feel the sweat running down my back, but I wasn’t ready to stop.
“Will Giulia let you start working again next week?” Grace asked.
“I hope so.”
I had been determined to carry on as usual after the initial shock of the interview, but it quickly became clear that it was impossible. Before, the hotel guests had mostly ignored me and let me do my job. But now, they stared at me and asked inappropriate questions, to the point where Giulia had temporarily taken me off the work roster. My job interview had also fallen through. The owner of the corner shop had called yesterday to cancel because he didn’t wantsomeone like meworking at the till. I had tried to explain, but he hadn’t wanted to hear it.
“Maybe you can do something behind the scenes.”
“Maybe. I’ll talk to her.” I smiled at Grace. “How’s Amy doing?” I asked, hoping to distract myself from my own life.
Grace sighed. “Not very well. She spent half the night crying.”
“Why?”
“Because of that loser Garrett, of course,” Grace hissed, and aggressively screwed the lid onto her water bottle. “They had planned to go on a date yesterday, and five minutes before he was supposed to pick her up, he cancelled. He said he was tired and needed an evening to himself—again. But a few hours later, he was at a party. One of his friends tagged him in a photo, and naturally, Amy saw it.”
“Shit. And then?”
“Nothing. She cried, as always. I offered to go to the party with her and confront him, but she didn’t want that.” Rage radiated from her. “That guy is the worst. Amy deserves someone better, and I’m not just saying that because she’s my twin. She’s the kindest person I know, and Garrett is a selfish bastard.”
