He grunted tiredly. “Good night, Kate.”
The Blackroom
Who would have thought it? The Pearl Gala is making a comeback in a desperate bid by The Darlington Hotel to salvage its reputation. Once upon a time, the rich and famous considered it a highlight of the social calendar. Celebrities and socialites alike vied for an invitation to the charity event, which not only raises money for good causes but also serves as the perfect opportunity for self-promotion.
This December’s gala was initially cancelled, but now it’s back on the agenda, with the surprise announcement coming just a few days after it was made public that Richard Darlington will be going to court.
Is someone trying to polish their tarnished reputation? Does the Darlington family truly believe we’ll be fooled by this cheap PR stunt? As if a little glitz could make people forget that Richard Darlington has ruined lives...
The decision to go ahead with the Pearl Gala after all might be a noble attempt at making reparations and will undoubtedly benefit the organisation Hope Harbour, which advocates for homeless people in England. However, we can only hope that this one good Darlington deed doesn’t blind the public to Richard’s many wrongdoings. The gala should be seen for what it is: his desperate attempt to cover up his guilt.
29
Good morning. I hope you slept just as well as I did. Unfortunately, I had to go to the office, and I didn’t want to wake you. Have a great day. Message me, if you like.
Note left by Henry on Kate’s pillow
Kate
The next day, I heard angry voices coming out of Henry’s office. His dad was furious at Henry for banning Mr. Fleming from the premises. I was still asleep when Henry had sneaked from my room. By the time I started work three hours later, the entire hotel was already talking about it. I would never have asked Henry to ban a regular guest from The Darlington on my account, but it was a relief to know I’d never run into that perv in the hotel corridors again. Still, I felt bad that Henry had to confront his dad, who voiced his disapproval of Henry’s decision loud and clear, for everyone to hear. I sent Henry a message asking if everything was fine, but all I got in response was a terseYes.
Over the course of the day, my thoughts kept drifting back to Henry and last night. How he had lain in my bed and held me.It had felt just as intimate as if we’d known each other for a very long time. It was no wonder I had wanted to kiss him—he made my body tingle and my heart race. Looking back, though, I was glad it hadn’t happened. A kiss would only have complicated our relationship, which was already far too complicated. He was Henry Darlington, after all. Rich. Powerful. Influential. The whole world lay at his feet, while I was being trampled by it. No matter which way I looked at it, it just didn’t fit, and probably never would.
Lost in thought, my work took considerably longer than it usually did. Fortunately, no one seemed to mind. I cast a final glance around the room I had just finished cleaning to make sure I hadn’t missed anything, then confirmed on the tablet that I was done so reception would know the room was ready for new guests. I returned my cleaning trolley to the housekeeping room and made my way downstairs—my shift was finally over.
After retrieving my room key from my locker, I headed to Henry’s office. I had walked past it more times today than I’d like to admit, hoping to run into him. I could have knocked, of course, but I hadn’t wanted to disturb him. The door had been closed every time I passed—but this time, luck seemed to be on my side. Just as I turned into the corridor, the door opened. Henry stepped out. Just one glance at his face was enough to confirm that he’d had a bad day. His skin was pale and his eyes were dull, but he was smiling. Next to him was a woman who seemed vaguely familiar. She must have been around forty, with auburn hair and gold-rimmed glasses. They were heading straight towards me but hadn’t spotted me yet.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” Henry asked.
“Definitely. It’s not my scene.”
“That’s a shame. Let me know if you change your mind.”
The woman smiled. “Thanks, I will.”
Henry looked up as if he had sensed my presence, and the intensity of his gaze hit me hard. The fake, tired smile from just a moment ago transformed into something more alive and warm. I paused, not sure what to do. Should I greet them and risk interrupting their conversation? Or should I leave?
Henry decided for me. “Hi.”
“Hey.” Why did I sound so breathless?
They stopped in front of me, and suddenly, I realised where I had seen the woman before: yesterday at the press conference with Henry.
“Kate, allow me to introduce Matilda Gallagher from Hope Harbour,” he said, confirming it. “Tilly, this is Kate Hamilton, the friend who gave me the idea of raising money for local homeless charities.”
A broad smile spread across Tilly’s face, etching fine wrinkles around her eyes. She shook my hand enthusiastically. “It’s really nice to meet you, Kate. Thanks for thinking of Hope Harbour. It means a lot to us.”
“Oh. I... I didn’t do anything,” I said awkwardly.
“Don’t say that.” Tilly placed a hand on my arm, an unexpectedly maternal gesture. “Thanks to you, the organisation will receive a very generous donation at the end of the year. We’ll be able to help a lot of homeless people. You can’t imagine what that will mean to them.”
Icouldimagine—very well, in fact. But I wasn’t sure how much Henry had told Tilly or how much she was allowed to know. I looked at him hesitantly and saw only openness in his eyes. Heseemed to be leaving it up to me to decide what I wanted to share with her. I had promised him I wouldn’t tell anyone at the hotel the truth about my history, but Tilly wasn’t part of the hotel. And if anyone would understand, it was her.
“I was homeless myself until recently,” I confessed, keeping my voice low even after I had made sure no one was listening. “I even went to the Hope Harbour soup kitchen a few times. You really do an amazing job.”
Tilly raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Really?”
I nodded. The soup kitchen had often helped me in the last few months—when luck had been on my side. Although the meals were portioned to keep things fair, I was often turned away empty-handed because there wasn’t enough to go round for everyone who needed it. But that wasn’t Tilly’s fault—it was a systemic problem.
