The next two weeks flew by without me noticing. One day the Halloween decorations were still hanging, and the next, everything was strung with sparkling lights as the city prepared for Christmas, despite it only being the middle of November. People couldn’t wait for the Christmas holidays. The Darlington was no exception: A five-metre-tall Christmas tree stood in the lobby, and stockings hung above the fireplace. Fairy lights adorned the facade, making it sparkle once dusk fell.
I used to love this time of year. My mum and I had never had much, but we’d always made sure we had a nice time during the holidays, making the most of London’s winter offerings. This Christmas reminded me how terrible the last year had been, but it also made me see how far I had come in the last few weeks. Therewere many things to be grateful for—particularly that I now had a certain someone in my life.
I knocked at Henry’s office door. He had sent me a message asking if I wanted to have lunch with him.
“Come in!” Henry called.
I pushed open the door and entered, wondering if it was strange that I hadn’t been here before. The floor was covered in thick, red carpet, and dark shelves crammed with binders and old books lined the walls. A leather sofa stood in one corner, while a solid wooden desk commanded attention at the centre of the room. Henry sat behind it, his jacket removed and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, as if he were preparing for physical labour.
“Hi,” I said, closing the door behind me.
He smiled. “Hi yourself. Give me a minute.”
I nodded and settled into one of the chairs in front of the desk while he finished typing up whatever he was working on. My gaze wandered around the room before landing on a magazine—with Henry on the cover. The photo showed him in a suit, leaning casually against the counter of The Darlington’s rooftop bar. He held a crystal glass filled with amber liquid, his expression both seductive and slightly roguish. Behind him, rows of expensive bottles of spirits lined the wall. The headline read, “A New Luxurious Era.”
I picked up the magazine. A Post-it note stuck to a page directed me straight to the feature article, a four-page interview with Henry. I skimmed it. The interviewer asked about his family and career, and focussed on his vision for advancing The Darlington as one of the youngest CEOs in the global luxury hotel industry. His responses were eloquent and passionate.
I looked up from the pages. “You didn’t mention this.”
Henry closed his laptop. “I forgot.”
“You forgot you’re on the cover of a magazine?”
“The photoshoot was three months ago.” He stood and took the navy suit jacket from his chair. “Vivian talked me into it. If I could remember the interview, I would have retroactively changed some of my answers.”
“Which ones?”
“I said that the BBC wanted to make a documentary about the centenary of The Darlington, which was a little premature. The filming was called off a few weeks ago because of the allegations. I also made a grand announcement that there would be no redundancies.”
I raised my eyebrows. “And will there be redundancies?”
He gave a brief nod, slipped on his jacket, and focussed intently on straightening his cuff links, avoiding my gaze. “Since the allegations against my dad went public, around forty people have resigned. I’d hoped that the resignations would make up for the dwindling reservations, which mean there’s less to do; apparently people prefer to stay in hotels that aren’t run by rapists, not to mention ones that have more privacy and no press loitering at the entrance.”
“How many people do you have to let go?” I asked.
Henry looked up, and I could see in his face how disappointed he was in himself. He was doing all that he could and more, but the allegations against his dad trumped everything. “It’s not clear yet. We’re still crunching numbers and figuring out the prognosis. We’re thinking about temporarily closing one of the floors to save costs. Perhaps it will give us a little time.”
“You could cut my pay,” I suggested. It was more than enough that I could stay at the hotel and eat The Darlington Diner’s leftover food. Besides, I had sent out a handful of job applications inthe last few days. I had already received several rejections, but I wasn’t about to give up.
“I’ll cut my own salary before I stop paying you.”
“That makes it sound like you’re favouring me.”
“You bet I favour you,” Henry said. He came closer and put a hand on my waist.
My heart involuntarily skipped a beat, and I wondered if I would ever get so used to Henry’s proximity that my body stopped reacting. I doubted it. In the last two weeks, the effect Henry had on me had only intensified. My body responded to every kiss, every touch, every soft whisper in the night—usually the only time we had together, because Henry had his hands full with the gala. Every so often, we’d cross paths in the hotel corridors during the day—but they were stolen moments, fleeting glances before Henry was pulled into his next meeting. Right now, though, it was just us.
“Don’t tell the others, but I like you the most.”
“I promise I won’t,” I said and stood on my tiptoes to gently kiss Henry’s lips. He wanted to deepen the kiss, but I wouldn’t let him. Instead, I reached into the bag slung over my shoulder and pulled out a wrapped present. I’d initially thought about giving it to him at lunch, but the moment was too perfect. “I like you the most too, so I have something for you.”
Henry raised his eyebrows. “A present? It’s not my birthday.”
“It’s to say thank you. I got my first paycheck a while ago and wanted to give you something in return for everything you’ve done for me,” I said, feeling myself blush. Now that Henry stood in front of me in his fancy office, wearing his tailored suit and an outrageously expensive designer watch, the present I’d bought for ten pounds seemed ridiculous. It was a lot of money to me, but toHenry, it was nothing. A part of me wanted to tear the present out of his hands again and return it to my bag, but it was too late. “I know it’s not very much in light of everything you’ve done for me, and you probably could have bought it yourself. And I can return it if you don’t like it, but...”
“I love it,” Henry interrupted before I could finish the sentence.
I swallowed. “You don’t even know what it is yet.”
