The woman in the blue dress shrugged and rifled through her makeup bag. “Perhaps she’s amazing in bed and lets him do all kinds of really kinky stuff to her. I can totally imagine Henry being into that kind of thing.”
“At least in bed, she wouldn’t be wearing that cheap dress. It looks like she fished it out of some old charity shop donation bin. Isn’t she embarrassed? She’s humiliating Henry as much as herself.”
My stomach clenched. I had felt pretty in my dress—until now. Now I felt foolish, like a kid playing dress-up. I had genuinely thought I looked elegant, but I’d clearly been wrong. Were the other guests thinking the same? Did they think my dress was fitfor the bin? Were they secretly wrinkling their noses behind their masks, just like Mrs. Darlington? The thought made me feel sick.
“Totally. It’s as cheap as it gets. But honestly? I bet it’s all for show, to distract from Richard. I can’t imagine Henry seriously being interested in someone like her. He’s way out of her league.”
My hands started shaking, and my heart fluttered as though it wanted to escape—to take off and fly away. I wished I didn’t care about what the two women were saying about me and that I could brush it off like all the insults people had thrown at me when I was homeless. But I did care. The women’s words confirmed what I had felt time and time again since arriving at the hotel: I didn’t belong here, and I would never be good enough for someone like Henry. Everyone knew it. These women. Henry’s parents. And probably every single guest at this ball. Sooner or later, Henry would also see how worthless I was and that I had nothing to offer him.
“Perhaps you should give him another shot, Em,” the woman in the red dress suggested.
Em scoffed and put her makeup back in her purse. “Definitely not. I might have considered it before tonight, but it would just be humiliating now that everyone has seen how low the bar is. I’m not that desperate.”
Her friend sniggered. “You could be the woman who makes a respectable man of him again. A real phoenix-from-the-ashes story.”
“No, thanks. That ship has sailed. Perhaps I’ll try my luck with...” The rest of her sentence was lost as the bathroom door swung shut behind them, cutting off their voices.
The room fell silent.
The only sounds were the faint hum of the ventilation and my shaky breathing. My eyes stung. I tried desperately to keep ittogether. I didn’t want to cry. Not over this. But stopping the tears was incredibly hard. I had truly believed I could fit in for one evening, that I could pretend to be part of this glamorous world. Yet while I had felt like a princess in Henry’s arms, to everyone else, I was just a dirty imposter. How could I have been so naive?
36
Have fun tonight. Let me know how it goes with Kate.
Message from Logan to Henry
Henry
“So, what is it like being the CEO of The Darlington?” Mr. Doyle asked. My dad would have called him a family friend, but to me, he was a vulture, circling events like this in search of the next piece of rotting meat to choke down.
“It’s good.”
“Really? A little birdie told me the hotel is struggling with declining numbers,” Mr. Doyle said, which confirmed what I already knew. He hadn’t approached me to make innocent small talk—he wanted something from me, and I was fairly certain I knew what. Mr. Doyle made his fortune buying up small and medium-sized hotels, absorbing them into his soulless empire. He preyed on desperation, purchasing businesses for a pittance. And apparently, he was deluded enough to think The Darlington would be his next victim. But he was biting off more than he could chew.
I warned myself to stay polite, though it became more difficult the longer I had to endure Mr. Doyle’s sleazy smile, a smearof caviar clinging to the corner of his mouth. When would Kate finally return?
“The figures go up and down, but fluctuations are totally normal.”
Mr. Doyle grinned and let his hand rove over his companion’s back. She wasn’t his wife, and judging by how fast she was knocking back her champagne, she would rather be anywhere but here. “Some wouldn’t call a fifty percent occupancydownso much asa deep abyss.”
What the hell? Where had he got that statistic from? That kind of information was for internal reports only, not for the public to know. I kept my face expressionless, refusing to give Mr. Doyle the satisfaction of a reaction. It was clear that by “some people,” he meant himself, and that he was trying to unsettle me, all the better to pressure me into a sale somewhere down the line. But over my dead body would I let him have The Darlington.
“I’d call those people cowards with zero business sense. It might be a challenge, but it’s hardly insurmountable—unless, of course, you’re completely incompetent.”
Mr. Doyle’s grin faltered. “That’s a pretty bold statement.”
“No, bold would be suggesting those people have tiny dicks and impotence problems, but no one here is saying that,” I shot back. His date choked on her champagne, but it was Mr. Doyle’s face that turned bright red. “Please excuse me, I’m wanted elsewhere. Enjoy the rest of your evening. And do give my regards to your wife when you see her.”
Mr. Doyle didn’t reply, but his puce face spoke volumes. Glad I was finally rid of him, I scanned the ballroom for Kate. She had bravely stuck by my side all evening, probably bored to death bythe conversations. Still, she hadn’t complained once—she’d simply been there for me. But now, I realised I hadn’t seen her in a while.
I set off to find her. I didn’t want her to be alone—or worse, cornered by my parents. I silently cursed them both for having made her feel unwelcome when she was anything but. Not just in the hotel and at the ball, but in my life, regardless of what my parents or their friends thought.
I went to the bar first. On my way there, I was cornered by Shawn Wilders, an old friend of my mum’s, but told him I would find him later. Kate was neither at the bar nor on the dance floor. I checked the restroom, but she wasn’t there either. Finally, I went back to our table, though I was certain she wouldn’t have sat with my parents of her own accord.
Unsurprisingly, her seat was empty. It was as if she had vanished into thin air.
I wondered if she’d had enough of the ball—but I was sure she wouldn’t leave without telling me. Still, I wrote her a message, just in case she had gone back to her room. I put my phone away and was just about to do another round of the ballroom when I spotted Kate through the glass door that led to the balcony. The white dress with its deep-cut back was unmistakable.
