Sounds like a fair deal.
I grinned at my new phone, but my smile disappeared when Henry’s photo suddenly appeared. I assumed he’d take one in his office and that it would feature stacks of files and folders. Instead, he had sent me an older picture of himself at the beach. He was smiling at the camera with his feet buried in the sand and the sea behind him, wearing only a pair of swimming trunks.Wettrunks that clung to the contours of his body. He didn’t look like Ethan. No six-pack, no muscles honed at the gym just for the aesthetics. Henry’s muscles were less showy, more practical, made to support his body when he was bouldering. Personally, I found that much more attractive. The heat inside me moved down to between my thighs, where it grew even more fiery when I thought about the bulge in Henry’s trunks.
Snowflake:
Let your imagination run wild.
25
Write to M about V.
Note on Henry’s phone
Henry
The first journalists were arriving at the press conference where I was about to announce the Pearl Gala. I could hear their voices, the clicking of their cameras, and the snapping of their tripods being tested and set up. I paced restlessly back and forth in a small room behind the stage, using a ballpoint pen to correct the speech that Vivian had handed me this morning to read out. It wasn’t an announcement, though. It was a bad joke. Twenty-five percent of it was about the hotel and the gala, the other seventy-five waxed lyrical about my dad’s dedication and commitment, as if he gave a shit about the gala. He only cared about how it could restore his reputation. He hadn’t even asked me what organisation we were supporting this year.
“Mr. Darlington?” came a bright voice from next to me.
I looked up to see a woman with auburn hair and gold-rimmed glasses. She was wearing a colourful jacket adorned with a rainbow broach. This could only be Matilda Gallagher from HopeHarbour, a national organisation dedicated to helping the homeless. Its headquarters were in Glasgow, but it had branches across Britain and Ireland.
“Mrs. Gallagher?”
She nodded. “Yes, but you can call me Tilly.”
“Henry.” I shook her hand. “I’m glad you’re here.”
She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose nervously. “Thanks for having us. Everyone at Hope Harbour is completely over the moon. It’s incredible that The Darlington chose to raise money for us at this year’s gala. We thought at first that the request was a joke.”
I laughed, which, thanks to my headache, felt terrible. “No, we’re completely serious.”
“I can tell,” said Tilly, glancing in the direction of the journalists’ voices, which were growing ever louder. “Still, it really surprised us. We asked your grandmother a few years ago, but she turned us down because she thought it would be better to support international charities.”
“Yes, Hope Harbour is the first local organisation we’re supporting.”
“Can I ask how this has come about? Rakesh told me on the phone that it was your suggestion.”
“A friend, Kate, gave me the idea.”
The door opened, and my dad came in with Vivian. My shoulders tensed and the atmosphere in the room changed immediately. But perhaps I was just imagining it. Vivian put on her most charming fake smile and made a beeline for Tilly, who nervously adjusted her glasses again even though they were sitting perfectly.
“You must be Mrs. Graham from Hope Harbour.”
“Gallagher,” Tilly corrected. “But you can call me Tilly.”
“I’m Mrs. Edwards, and this is Mr. Richard Darlington,” Vivian said, as if my dad were incapable of introducing himself. “We’re so happy that the Pearl Gala can support Hope Harbour this year. Mr. Darlington chose your organisation himself. The well-being of Londoners is a matter very close to his heart.”
“I know, we were just talking about it,” Tilly said and gave me a warm smile, a stark contrast to the cold looks Vivian and my dad were shooting me. They’d become even icier when they noticed that I’d cut the praise for my dad from the speech.
“Henry suggested it, but it was Mr. Darlington who made the final decision to support Hope Harbour.” Vivian’s voice was sweet, but her words were bitter and laced with an unspoken warning that I hold my tongue.
I ignored her. “That’s not true.”
My dad let out a hollow laugh, and the wrinkles around his joyless eyes deepened. “Henry, let’s be honest.”
“In which case, you should try telling the truth for once,” I retorted. I wasn’t interested in praise. Rakesh was welcome to take all the recognition from Hope Harbour. He’d selected and contacted the organisations, and all I’d done was give my approval at the end. My dad, on the other hand, hadn’t lifted a finger in the last weeks, neither for the gala nor the hotel. Meanwhile, I’d been working eighteen-hour shifts for days, hunched over my desk until late at night, cleaning up his mess. The Darlington now had an average occupancy of just 50 percent, and the numbers were trending downward. If reservations didn’t pick up soon, we’d have to lay off even more staff despite the many resignations, because there just wasn’t enough work to go around. The hotel was a service business, and if there was no one to use the service, the staff were paid to do nothing. On top of that, I was frustrated—I hadn’tseen Kate in days while my dad had been off doing god knows what. He was probably screwing Vivian. How else could I explain their mutual sucking up?
“Mrs. Gallagher... Tilly,” Vivian said, “how do you feel about getting a coffee?” Before Tilly could answer, Vivian grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away from me and my dad. He waited until the two women were out of earshot before speaking.
