“It’s from you, and that’s all that matters.”
He took a purposeful step towards me, put a hand on the back of my neck, and pulled my face towards his. I was expecting a soft, sweet kiss, but Henry had other plans—the kiss was intense and sensual, and almost instantly, I felt a searing heat in my chest that travelled down to my pelvis. I shut my eyes and leaned against his chest, my gift between us as he ran his tongue over my lower lip and then flicked it into my mouth. Henry clearly did nothing half-heartedly. He put just as much heart and soul into every kiss and every touch as he did into his work for the hotel. It felt like our lips were destined to be pressed together, but I couldn’t forget the present squashed between us. I no longer found it silly—Henry had dispelled that worry with his kiss.
“I should give you presents more often, if this is the thanks I get,” I whispered between kisses, stroking his shirt. I could feel that his heart was racing just as unsteadily as mine. “Open it.”
Henry’s beautiful blue eyes shone, and his lips were red from our kiss. He seemed reluctant to let me go, but then he slipped his hand from the back of my neck to open the present. Naomi had helped me wrap it, as I didn’t have much experience with that. Nervously, I watched Henry tear open the paper to reveal a DVD ofInterstellar.
“For your DVD collection,” I explained, as if it weren’t obvious. “I thought it would be nice if you had a film that wasn’tLondon Has Fallen, and this is one of my favourites. I wrote you something in the case, like Logan always does.”
Wordlessly, Henry opened the case to read my message. I had spent the previous evening searching for the right words, and until just now, I hadn’t been sure I’d found them, but the look in his eyes assured me they were perfect. When he looked up at me, the affection in his gaze almost swept me off my feet. But even if it had, it wouldn’t matter. I wouldn’t fall—Henry would catch me. Or maybe we would fly together. At least, that’s how it felt.
“Thank you, angel. It’s perfect,” Henry said. Once again, he leaned in to kiss me. This time, his kiss was sweet and achingly gentle, and my heart swelled, expanding with something I had never dared dream I’d feel. “You have no idea how much I’d love to cancel our reservation, order a pizza, and watch the film with you,” he murmured against my lips. “But I’m pretty sure Logan would kill me.”
The name piqued my interest, and I disentangled myself from him. “Logan?”
“Yes. I’ve reserved a table at The Meridian for us.”
I was surprised and suddenly a little nervous. Logan was the only member of the family I hadn’t met yet—and he was also the one Henry was closest too. I was eager to meet him.
We arrived at The Meridian in Covent Garden twenty minutes later. Henry parked his Bentley in a side street, and we walked to the restaurant in Floral Court holding hands. A passageway ledto a small courtyard surrounded by houses that blocked out the hustle and bustle of the city. There were potted plants everywhere and fairy lights strung from house to house. But the most surprising feature of the courtyard was a sculpture of an elephant made from delicate wooden struts.
Logan’s restaurant was located right on the corner of the courtyard. It had floor-to-ceiling windows, and tables had been arranged with visible care among the lush plants. Outdoor heaters allowed guests to dine alfresco despite the cold November air.
Henry led me to an entrance flanked by two large-leafed plants. He pulled the door open and waved me ahead. For someone who had turned their back on the luxurious lifestyle of The Darlington, Logan’s restaurant was relatively upscale, with dark chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings. The walls were partially mirrored, partially decorated with opulent paintings. Creating the illusion of privacy, plants like those outside were strategically placed between the tables, almost all of which were occupied. Unobtrusive music played softly in the background.
“Hello, Henry,” the hostess greeted him with a broad smile. “I haven’t seen you here in quite some time.”
“Hi, Sara. Yeah, there’s been a lot going on.”
“I’ll let Logan know you’re here. He reserved your usual table for you.”
“Thank you,” Henry replied, and with his hand at the small of my back, he guided me to a table with two dark wood chairs and a brown leather bench at the window. He let me choose my seat, and I slid onto the bench. I shrugged off my jacket and shoved it behind me as he hung his coat on a coatrack. A waiter approached with a carafe of water infused with mint leaves and poured us each a glass.
“What do you think?” Henry asked when the waiter had left.
I looked around. “I imagined it differently, after everything you told me about Logan. A bit more... simple.”
Henry took a sip of his water. “The only thing that’s simple here is the food. Logan has never been a fan of tiny, pricey portions that look pretty but barely taste like anything. He and Maxton wanted to combine classic dishes with luxury. You won’t find a cheeseburger or pizza with better ingredients anywhere in London.”
I was about to answer when I spotted Logan. I would never have recognised him on the street wearing jeans and a T-shirt, but his chef’s uniform gave him away. Aside from his height, he bore no resemblance to Henry or Ethan. Logan clearly took after Mrs. Darlington with his brown eyes and blond hair, which he wore tied back, accentuating the shaved sides. His forearms were covered in tattoos. They seemed to extend beneath the sleeves of his white chef’s jacket, over which he wore a black apron embroidered with The Meridian’s logo.
“Hey, Buttface,” Logan greeted Henry.
“Rather Buttface than Dickface,” Henry retorted with a laugh, and they performed a well-practised handshake that made me smile—I could imagine them inventing it as teenagers. “Logan, this is Kate.” Henry gestured to me. “Kate, this is Logan—also known as the unattractive Darlington brother.”
Logan swatted Henry, although it had clearly been a joke. Logan was beyond handsome. Before I’d met Henry, he would have been just my type. A little rugged and serious, perhaps even slightly intimidating. He was the kind of man who might make you cross the street at night if you didn’t know him—and a man who would make you feel completely safe if you did.
Logan shook my hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Kate.”
“Likewise. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“I’d love to say the same, but Henry hasn’t been here for weeks,” Logan said, giving his brother a reproachful sideways glance as he lowered himself onto the empty chair. He leaned his arms on the table and rolled up his sleeves, revealing more of his tattoos.
I smiled. “Your restaurant is beautiful.”
“Thanks. Maxton did the interior design.”
“Is he here today too?” Henry asked.
