“I know.”
“Do you mind?” I asked, trying to sound indifferent despite wishing more than anything that he didn’t care what anyone said about us.
“Doyoumind?” Henry echoed.
“I asked you first.”
“No, I don’t mind. People always talk about me. It can’t be helped. I’m Richard Darlington’s son, after all, and their boss. But I’d much rather they talk about us than about the other shit. If it bothers you, though, I can...”
“It doesn’t,” I interrupted. “I don’t care.”
Henry’s light eyes met my dark ones, his gaze piercing. “Good. But if that changes, or someone gives you shit because of it, will you tell me?”
“I promise,” I said, and the warm tingling I often felt in his presence returned. God, I liked this man more with every minute I spent with him. “Grace and I cleaned the private family floor today,” I said to distract myself from the feeling.
He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, yes?”
“Yes. It was a bit strange to be in your apartment,” I admitted. “Especially your bedroom. I felt like I was snooping around.”
“And did you snoop around?” Henry asked, amused.
“Of course not! But... I don’t know.” I shrugged and took another slice of pizza. I’d already eaten half of mine, while Henry was still nibbling on his second slice. “Aren’t you afraid I might steal something? It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“I’m not. And even if you did, I’d just buy it again. There’s nothing in my apartment that can’t be replaced.”
“Nothing? Not even sentimental things?”
Henry opened his cola with a bottle opener and took a sip before answering. “No. All my memories are of the hotel itself. For the guests, it’s just a stopgap, but for me it’s my home. They just see the fancy interior with its antique, handpicked furniture and its elegance. Whereas I see... everything. My whole life. I only know this hotel. Take the lobby, for example. You noticed the fireplace, right?”
I nodded.
“Perhaps you thought it looked cosy. But when I look at the fireplace, I think about Logan, and about how when I was a kid, I threw his favourite action figure into the fire because he called me Fartface. The burnt plastic stunk out the whole hotel. Every guest got a complimentary bottle of Moët & Chandon, and I was grounded for a week,” Henry told me with a smile. “There are dozens—no,hundredsof memories that I associate with the hotel. Logan and I got up to so much shit here. You can’t imagine.”
I grinned at the image of young Henry running amok in this sophisticated setting. “Do you have a favourite place in the hotel?”
“Many!”
“Will you show me some?”
Henry’s eyes lit up at the question, as if he’d been waiting for me to ask. “I’d love to. After dinner?”
“I don’t have any plans.”
We talked for a while about the hotel and my first day of work. I confessed that I’d already forgotten the names of most of the people Grace had introduced me to. Henry then took out his phone and showed me some Instagram profiles and photos of company parties, and explained who everyone was. Grace was right: He really did know everyone’s names. It was impressive and showed me once again how important the hotel was to him.
I could hardly wait to see it through his eyes.
22
Club Owner Demands Compensation! Ethan Darlington Parties with Friends and Premium Spirits, Leaving Chaos and Destruction in His Wake!
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Henry
What the hell was I doing here? I shouldn’t be wandering around the hotel with Kate, further feeding the rumours. I’d told the truth—I didn’t care if the staff talked about us. I’d grown used to having barely any privacy. It couldn’t be avoided when home and the workplace were one and the same. I’d been born into the situation, though, while for Kate, this was all new. The people who were talking about us workedforme, but she had to workwiththem, which was a huge difference. I wanted to keep her life at the hotel from becoming uncomfortable. Kate might not have told me much about herself yet, but what I did know suggested she’d been through a lot. I didn’t want her time at The Darlington to be yet another shitty experience, especially not because of me.
Yet here I was, standing next to her and pressing the button to call the lift. Because I couldn’t help myself. Because I wantedto spend time with her. Because I wanted her to get to know the hotel through my eyes. Even if there was a real chance she’d regret it tomorrow when she heard the whispers, I was placing the palm of my hand on Kate’s back, guiding her into the lift. She didn’t resist. My fingers brushed the fabric of her T-shirt—only lightly, but even so, the touch stirred something I shouldn’t be feeling. Especially after Kate had opened the door earlier. I could already tell with absolute certainty that the sight of her, covered only with that tiny towel, was something I would think about tonight while lying alone in my bed.
