“Thank you for the safe ride,” Henry said, holding an armful of my belongings.
“Of course, Mr. Darlington. Do you need help carrying up the luggage?”
“No. We’ll manage, thank you. You should finish for the day.”
The driver nodded and stayed with the car while Henry and I made our way past dozens of luxury vehicles to the lifts. The gleaming black Mercedes, parked next to a fancy Bentley, was probably the least expensive car in the garage. I suddenly felt shabby in my stolen raincoat and wet shoes. My feet were ice-cold, because my socks had been soaked for hours.
We got into the lift, which was so much more than a gleaming metal box. The floor was carpeted, the ceiling mirrored, and the walls wood-panelled. A painting of a lake sparkling in the sun hung on the back wall. Henry pulled a key chain from his coat pocket and scanned the attached ID chip before pushing the button for the penthouse.
I held back a gasp of astonishment when the doors slid open to reveal a wide corridor. It exuded wealth and luxury, with old oil paintings in heavy frames adorning the walls. The sage-green carpet was spotless, and dozens of gilded wall lights illuminated the corridor, which was lined with solid wooden doors. Everything was so immaculate that it almost seemed unreal.
“Are you coming?” Henry asked when he noticed I’d frozen in the lift.
I nodded and followed him down the corridor. “I’m sorry. I’m making everything wet.” I tried in vain to stop my sopping body and blankets from dripping.
“Don’t worry. Me too,” said Henry. Even now, he was devastatingly attractive. The rain that pearled off him seemed to intensify the blue of his eyes. “Anyway, there are no guests up here who’d be bothered. This floor is private. It belongs to my family.”
“Your whole family lives here?”
“Not all of them. My brother Logan isn’t here. But I’m the only one who can access my apartment, so don’t worry about running into anyone if you need to get a glass of water from the kitchen tonight.”
“OK,” I muttered.
Henry paused in front of one of the dark wooden doors and unlocked it using the same ID chip he’d used in the lift. He pushedit open, gesturing for me to go in first. My steps faltered as I stepped inside, and I was instantly struck by the fact that Henry’s apartment was nothing short of a palace. The entrance opened into an enormous, unexpectedly modern room. The far wall was made entirely of floor-to-ceiling windows, which, if not for the stormy darkness outside, would probably have offered a sweeping view of the city. A sectional sofa upholstered in luxurious fabric stood in front of the glass, while an open-plan kitchen occupied the opposite side of the room, featuring light-toned cabinets, gleaming white marble countertops, and a double-door fridge. The ceiling was several metres high. An imposing stainless-steel chandelier bathed the suite in soft light, and a staircase led up to a mezzanine. The room could easily have felt cold and uninviting, but the plush carpets, the large plants in every corner, and small details like the sports bag lying on the floor made it feel homey.
“You live here?” I asked in disbelief as it sank in how wealthy Henry really was. He wasn’t just rich—he was filthy rich. Henry set my wet things down on the floor near the door, and I resisted the impulse to pick them straight back up to avoid getting anything dirty.
“Yes,” he said, oblivious to what I was thinking.
“Wow,” I breathed, adding the items I’d carried to the heap. I kept hold of my rucksack, just in case I had to make a quick getaway, but I doubted I would have to. I couldn’t say why, but I’d had a good feeling about Henry from the very beginning. Still, although I was comfortable in his presence, I felt uneasy surrounded by so much luxury.
“Shall I show you to the guest room?”
I nodded wordlessly, unable to find the right words for the situation. I could handle contempt, hatred, and ignorance. But Henry’sgenerosity and helpfulness left me at a complete loss. Especially since I deserved neither. A familiar pressure built behind my eyes, and I fought back tears as I trailed Henry around his apartment.
He led me to a closed door. A light turned on automatically when he opened it, revealing a room no less impressive than the living area. In the centre stood a large king-size bed with a padded headboard and silk covers. A wooden desk and several substantial bookcases lined the room, along with a walk-in wardrobe featuring integrated lighting and recessed cupboards. But the cherry on top was the adjoining bathroom, complete with a spacious rain showeranda freestanding bathtub. A warm shiver coursed through me at the thought of soaking in it.
“I should have asked for more in exchange for your phone,” I said with a forced chuckle, playing down my spiralling anxiety. Everything was impossibly chic and fancy, and I felt completely out of place.
“You’ll know better for next time,” Henry replied with a smile that had a strange effect on my heartbeat. “You’ll find slippers, a dressing gown, and towels in the cupboard in case you want to have a bath. I’ll get you some dry clothes.”
I nodded. My mouth felt incredibly dry. The pressure behind my eyes grew stronger at the thought of spending the night here, in a real bed. In a warm, dry room without insects buzzing around me. Without strangers scrutinising me as they walked by. The thought not only filled me with relief and gratitude but also restored a sense of humanity that I’d lost during my time on the streets, when most people either treated me like rubbish or completely ignored me.
“Are you hungry?” Henry asked.
“I’m always hungry.”
He frowned at my answer. He was probably wondering what had happened to his four thousand pounds, given that I’d spent it on neither accommodation nor food, but he didn’t ask. “Is toast OK?”
“Of course. I’m not picky.”
“OK. Wait here,” Henry said and left the room. I hardly dared to move until he returned with a bundle of clothes in his arms. “They’re probably too big, but at least they’re dry.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Take your time,” he said. He closed the door behind him when he left the room.
I stood rooted to the spot for a moment before I locked the door. Not because I didn’t trust Henry specifically, but because I’d learned to not trust anyone. I walked around the room. Was I dreaming? It felt like it.
