I shut my laptop. “Yes. I have plans.”
Rakesh tapped away on his tablet, which he guarded like a treasure and took with him everywhere in the hotel. I’d even caught him in the bathroom with it once. “There’s nothing in your calendar. Have I forgotten something?”
“No, it’s private,” I answered curtly. The entire staff was already speculating about me and Kate, especially since it had become public knowledge that she was working and sleeping at The Darlington. I pretended not to get wind of it, but I was neither deaf nor blind. I heard the muttering and caught the inquisitive looks. But no one had brought it up with me besides my mum. Probably because it was more fun to talkaboutthe boss thanwithhim.
I stood and took my suit jacket from the back of the chair. “Have a nice evening.”
Rakesh had just left my office when my phone vibrated with a new message notification. I considered ignoring it, fearing there was some emergency that would require me to stay at the office, but I couldn’t resist checking.
Logan:
You’ll pay for this.
The next message was a photo of the facade of his restaurant. Someone had written the word “Rapist!” on the wall in red paint. The photo also featured Maxton, Logan’s business partner, awkwardly wielding a sponge that didn’t seem to have made an impression on the graffiti.
Me:
I can contribute a little.
Logan:
Are you serious? Did you just PayPal me five pounds?
Me:
Yes. Doesn’t that cover it?
Logan:
Very funny, loser.
Me:
Pay for your own shit. Or ask Dad.
Logan:
I’d rather lick the paint off myself.
Me:
I don’t think that’d be good for your health.
But seriously, do you need money?
Logan:
No, I was joking. The restaurant’s doing great.
Me:
I’m glad. Do you have a table free tonight?
Logan:
Dude. It’s 7 p.m. No.
Me:
