“I know. It’s just...” I hesitated. I briefly considered telling him about the conversation I’d had with his mum, because I couldn’t shake the thought that she might be right. But it would only upset Henry, and I didn’t want to drive yet another wedge between him and his family. “I had a fight with Rose.”
“The kitchen assistant?” Henry asked.
“Yes.”
“What did you fight about?”
“That blog.The Blackroom,” I replied carefully, testing the waters. I could tell from his expression that he knew exactly what I was talking about. “I said that the anonymous interviews might be fabricated. Rose didn’t take it well. She’s convinced I only said it to protect you. I don’t think she likes you very much.”
“Hmm. That’s fine.”
“Is it?”
“Sure. As long as you like me.”
It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “I like you. A lot.”
Henry’s laugh was low and unguarded, and it sparked a warm glow in my stomach that took my breath away. I noticed the exact moment he realised the effect he was having on me—his laugh faded, his posture shifted, and with it, the air between us did too. It heated up suddenly, as if someone had cranked up the thermostat. Warmth flooded through me, bringing back memories of our night together. It wasn’t my tears I was remembering, however, but how safe I had felt in Henry’s arms. I recalled the way his body had pressed against mine, how his hands had rested on my stomach, how his fingers had brushed my cheek.
My body seemed to move of its own accord when I took a step towards him. His familiar scent, so present in his bedroom, grew stronger. I was so close now that I had to tilt my head up to look at him. But Henry didn’t meet my eyes—his gaze was fixed firmly on my mouth. It was as if he could read my mind. I licked my lips. A shadow passed across his face, and the longing in my chest intensified.
“I’m glad to hear that, because I wanted to ask you something,” Henry said roughly. “There’s a masked ball at the hotel next Wednesday, and I’d like it if you came with me. As my date.”
There was a brief silence.
“You... You want me to go with you to the ball?”
“Yes.”
I bit my lower lip hesitantly. “Are you sure you want to go with someone like me?”
Henry’s expression darkened. “What is that supposed to mean?Someone like you?”
I didn’t want to rat out his mum, but I couldn’t deny that she had a point. Henry and I were too different. Even right now,we were like day and night. Henry in his expensive designer suit. Me in my room attendant uniform—which happened to also belong to him. I didn’t even own it. I had nothing, while he had everything. People looked up to him and down on me. “Nothing. But do you really think it’s a good idea?”
“I think it’s an excellent idea.”
“People will know who I am.”
“My stunning date?”
“Your employee.”
Henry raised my chin with two fingers, making it impossible to avoid his gaze. He gently stroked my face with his thumb, before running it over my lower lip. When I inhaled sharply in response, his own breathing grew jagged.
“Kate, if you don’t want to go to the ball with me, that’s fine. But you’d better not believe for a second that I care what others think. This...” he gestured between us, “is a thing between you and me. It’s no one else’s business.Iwant to go to the ball with you, and that’s all that matters. So, do you want to be my date or not?”
I didn’t need to think about it for long. If I ignored the headlines, the gossip and the conversation just now with his mum, it was simple. I wanted nothing more than to go to the ball with him. But before I accepted his invitation, I raised a practical question. “I have nothing to wear.”
Henry grinned. “You could come naked, and then no one would talk about the fact that you work for me. The perfect diversion.”
“OK. But only if you go naked too.”
He wrinkled his nose. “I’ll be shaking a lot of hands. It could get pretty awkward without trousers. Imagine: I’m greeting theChancellor of the Exchequer, someone jostles me—and suddenly his hand ends up somewhere it shouldn’t. It would traumatise everyone involved. Maybe we should stick to clothes after all.”
I laughed. “Fine. But that brings us back to my original problem.”
Without a word, Henry turned and made his way to the wardrobe across from his bed. He pressed on a drawer, and it slid open smoothly. Reaching inside, he pulled out a sleek black credit card, as if it were the most normal thing to keep between his socks and underwear. “This should solve your problem.”
