He poured himself a glass of water. “What are you trying to say?”
“We usually start preparing in March.” I had started managing the gala two years ago. It had been my segue into the family business after I graduated, and it had given me a chance to prove myself after my grandmother died. “It’s almost impossible to organise an event like that in three months.”
“Almostbeing the operative word.”
“I don’t have time.”
My dad cast me a warning look intended to put me in my place, but I wouldn’t let it intimidate me. He’d clearly forgotten that his former role was now mine. “Andwedon’t have time to hire someone new to take this on. You’re familiar with the event, and the only one who knows the processes, suppliers, and sponsors. Vivian and Rakesh can give you a hand.”
What about you?
The question was on the tip of my tongue, but I kept it to myself. I would organise the Pearl Gala, even if it became stressful. Because I wanted to, and because I loved the gala. I would carve outtime for it in my already busy schedule, but I would do it without my dad’s sceptical comments and criticisms. And I certainly didn’t want to spend any more time than necessary in his presence.
“I’d be happy to help with the planning as much as I can,” Vivian chimed in. Which realistically meant she wouldn’t lift a finger. Confirming my suspicions, she said, “I’m sure your mother would be willing to help too. She likes to organise events.”
“A brilliant idea,” my father agreed.
Suck-up.
“You’d be doing the hotel an enormous favour,” Vivian added, her smile triumphant. She knew how much I loved The Darlington and that I’d do anything to save it.
“Fine,” I heard myself saying. But I wasn’t doing it for Dad or Vivian. I was doing it in memory of my grandmother, and because the gala could help a lot of people. Besides, my dad was right: We couldn’t hand the planning over to someone else this last minute without risking the event being a disaster. The last thing The Darlington needed was yet more negative press.
5
James threw a party on Dad’s boat yesterday. Ethan got drunk and fell into the water. Luckily there was someone sober enough to fish him out.
Message from Olivia to Henry
Henry
The highlight of every conversation with my dad was its end, but today, I didn’t feel my usual relief. How could I organise the Pearl Gala with so little lead time? I’d have to cram ten months’ work into three and grovel to suppliers, service providers, and sponsors, since we’d already called off our arrangements for December. I could only hope our usual contractors still had capacity. Bringing in anyone new on such short notice carried risks I’d rather avoid.
I reached into my coat pocket for my phone to text Rakesh the bad news so he could kiss his free time goodbye. But my hand encountered an empty pocket. I tried the other one but found only a packet of tissues and the little tin I always carried with me. Confused, I patted down my suit and then my coat again. I tried to remember when I’d last had my phone in my hand. The call with my dad in the park. So where was it now? The answer was as clearas it was unpleasant: I had lost it. It must have fallen out of my pocket on the way back to the hotel.
Fuck.
Just what I needed. Could this day get any worse? Probably not, but I didn’t want to tempt fate. I really needed my phone back. My data was backed up in the cloud, but some of it was pretty sensitive. I could only hope that whoever had found the phone was honest or that they couldn’t get past the screen lock.
I strode purposefully to my office, which was at the other end of the corridor. It had once belonged to my grandfather, and I hadn’t found the time yet to decorate it to my liking. The room was elegant but gloomy. Sometimes when I inhaled deeply, I thought I could still smell my grandfather’s stale cigar smoke. The imposing chandelier that my great-grandfather had chosen still hung from the ceiling, and the walls were lined with glass cabinets full of old books with cracked leather bindings that probably hadn’t been touched in decades.
I tossed my coat onto the burgundy velvet sofa in the corner and slipped behind the desk to log into my laptop. I opened the Find My app nervously and sighed with relief when I located my phone. It was still in St. James’s Park, and it wasn’t moving. I took the lift up to my apartment to get the key for my Bentley. I’d usually walk to the park, but there was no time to lose.
I grabbed the key from the sideboard and headed straight back downstairs. The doors of the lift were just about to close when my brother Ethan appeared from around the corner. He was wearing a grey hoodie and dark jeans, and his dishevelled black hair stood on end. I couldn’t tell if it was a carefully put-together look or if he’d just rolled out of bed.
“Wait,” he called when he spotted me.
I instinctively pressed the button, and the doors of the lift slid open again. A moment later, I regretted my decision. Ethan didn’t speed up but walked slowly, with all the arrogance of a man used to others waiting for him. In the time it took for him to make his way down the corridor, I could have gone down and sent the lift back up again.
“Thanks,” he said when he finally reached me. At least he hadn’t entirely misplaced his manners.
I pressed the button for the first floor, and the doors slid shut. Ethan stood beside me, arms crossed in front of his chest. Although he was now twenty, it still surprised me that he was almost as tall as me.
“What happened to your eye?” I asked, not wanting to let on that my best friend Olivia had already told me about his wild night on the Asterdams’ boat.
Ethan refused to look at me, staring instead at the metal door in front of him, but he couldn’t hide the bruise standing out deep purple against his pale skin. “Nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing to me.”
