“And you’re overstepping the line,” I said, feigning more courage than I felt. I didn’t want to lose my job. For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t hungry. I had a roof over my head, and I had friends and a shot at a future. I didn’t want to lose those things, but I also couldn’t let a bastard like Mr. Fleming strip me of my dignity.
“I’ll show you overstepping the line,” Mr. Fleming hissed. His expression, overly friendly a moment ago, darkened. He let go of my chin and placed his hand on my shoulder. His fingers dug into me painfully hard as he forced me to my knees. It was clear what he expected of me. I didn’t know if it was pain, disgust, or fear that drove me to let go of the rag I’d been holding and reach for thecleaning spray next to the sink. I didn’t stop to think before spraying Mr. Fleming right in the face.
He screamed and released his grip to rub at his eyes.
I didn’t waste any time. I squeezed past him and fled from the room.
“You nasty little slut!” I heard him call, but his enraged voice faded when the door to his room shut behind me.
I hurried down the corridor without turning back and pressed the lift buttons in a panic until the gleaming doors opened and I was safe. Pressing the button for the first floor, I leaned back against the cool metal wall. My breath was jagged, and my entire body was trembling. Regret flooded me, twisting my stomach into knots. What had I done?
“Fuck,” I said under my breath.
Maybe I had just jeopardised my job at The Darlington. Mr. Fleming was probably calling reception to complain at this very moment, and rightfully so. I’d sprayed him in the face with cleaner. He had deserved it, but I was sure he would omit how he had harassed me. Perhaps I should go straight to Giulia and beat Mr. Fleming to it. But would she believe me? Mr. Fleming was a well-respected and loyal guest at the hotel, and I was a nobody. Expendable. Even if Giulia believed me, would that help me if Mr.Fleming threatened to go public? The Darlington couldn’t afford more bad press, not on my account.
God, Henry would be so disappointed.
Hot tears welled up in my eyes, but I willed them away. I didn’t want to cry now. I knew if I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop, and I had work to do. As long as I still had a job.
27
No Comment: Henry Darlington Cuts Press Conference Short.
INsiderheadline
Henry
Heavy raindrops lashed against the window. The night was pitch-black. Dark clouds obscured the sky, as gloomy as my mood. Thunder rumbled, and the occasional flash of lightning lit up the sky. Sweat ran down my forehead, neck, back, and chest. I ran. And ran. And ran. But I couldn’t escape my thoughts, which once again were keeping me from sleep. The brutal beats of Lorna Shore pounded in my ears as I pushed myself on the treadmill, but not even the singer’s animal growls could drown out the negative voices in my head.
The day had been a total catastrophe, starting with the press conference. I’d opened my speech with a joke that had made the journalists laugh, and afterwards, I’d announced the plans for the Pearl Gala. The news that this year’s event was raising money for a local organisation had been well received, and Tilly had briefly introduced Hope Harbour. So far, so good—until that jerk WilliamHunt had suddenly started asking questions about my dad’s case. I’d refused to answer, but his boldness had shattered everyone else’s restraint. Every question from that moment on had been about Richard Darlington: the trial, his bail, and his house arrest. I’d reluctantly cut the press conference short, which the media had eagerly pounced on in their coverage.
I had assumed the day couldn’t get any worse, but I was wrong. Vivian and my dad had given me a hard time after my speech for daring to deviate from the agreed script. Their tirade hadn’t stopped until we learned that a group of activists had hung a giant banner along the parapet of Westminster Bridge during the press conference. It was clearly visible to the hotel guests. Not to mention to the rest of the world. On the banner was an unflattering photo of my dad, accompanied by the words “The Face of a Rapist.”
The image had become grotesque in the darkness of the night, and my dad’s face watched me mockingly as I worked out on the treadmill. I couldn’t wait for the banner to be removed in the morning, even though hundreds of photos were already doing the rounds on social media. As if that weren’t enough, Giulia had informed me just before the end of the day that Mr. Fleming, one of the hotel’s most loyal guests, had filed a complaint against Kate. She’d apparently treated him with disrespect.
I didn’t know what to think. It didn’t seem like Kate, but we had to take every complaint seriously. Especially one coming from someone like Mr. Fleming, who had been a regular guest at the hotel for over ten years. The Darlington relied on the satisfaction of its guests, and I was sure my dad would have fired Kate without batting an eyelid. And perhaps that was just what I should do. My priority should be the hotel, not some woman I barely knew. But it wasn’t quite that simple. Not when it came to Kate.
Gasping for breath, I stopped the treadmill. My heart was racing. I pulled off the heart rate monitor from my upper arm and headed to the kitchen, thighs burning. I chugged a glass of water, waiting for the hammering of my heart to slow. But the calmer my body was, the louder the thoughts in my head became. It infuriated me that I had to deal with this shit. I knew I could help The Darlington more without all these obstacles in the way. No, they weren’t just obstacles. They were entire mountains, and they were growing bigger and steeper by the day.
I filled the water glass and drained it again before making my way through my dark apartment to the bathroom to take a shower. Showering was a necessary evil in the mornings, something to be accomplished swiftly so I could get to the office as fast as possible. All that was waiting for me right now, though, was my bed, and I wasn’t in any rush to get there. I stood motionlessly in the shower and enjoyed the feeling of hot water raining down on my skin, washing away the sweat and relaxing my overworked muscles.
Fifteen minutes later, I was right back where I’d been two hours ago: sleepless in bed. Lost in thought, I stared up at the ceiling and watched the flashes of lightning come in through a crack in the curtains. I felt like I was losing my mind. Another sleepless night would be fatal. Still, I caught myself reaching for my phone instead of closing my eyes.
Me:
Hey.
I wasn’t expecting an answer, but one pinged in a few seconds later.
Kate:
Hey right back at you.
I hesitated briefly before tapping the little camera symbol.
Kate answered the video call immediately. When her face appeared on my display, I saw that she was also in bed. Her hair was tousled, as though she’d been tossing and turning. Her eyes were tired, and the only light in the room came from the reading light on the bedside table next to her.
“You’re still awake,” Kate said.
