So, no, I’m pretty far from OK right now.
But Hunter is no longer the person I can turn to about all of this, so I just settle for that tiny nod, then turn quickly away, almost walking into Zara in the process.
‘Here,’ she says, dumping a pile of blankets into my arms. ‘Start handing these out, will you? It’s going to have to be all hands on deck for a bit while we get everyone settled.’
I do as she says, and the next half an hour or so passes in a blur of pillows and blankets, and last-minute requests for hot chocolate and directions to the spa, where the new guests have been told they can use the showers, but not the other facilities, much to their disappointment.
Finally, though, peace descends on the ballroom, punctuated only by the occasional rumble of now-distant thunder, and the rather more regular rumble of people’s snores. The worst of the storm seems to have passed, but the rain is still doing what Izzie describes as ‘pishing it doon’, and, upstairs, every vacant room in the hotel is now filled; including my own, which I offered to Ian, Callum and Rowan, begging Zara to let me bunk in with her instead, so I don’t have to worry about any more goings-on. As I settle into one side of the fourposter bed, though, all I can think about is Hunter, in his room just a few doors away.
Despite everything I found out tonight, I still can’t bring myself to think of him as the bad guy the villagers seem convinced he is. The fact that he hid his identity from me is a whole other matter, of course, but I believe him when he says he’s doing his best to save the hotel, under circumstances I can’t even begin to imagine. And even though I wish he’d trusted me enough to tell me who he really was, I guess I can sort of understand why he didn’t – especially once I got rolling with the ‘arsehole nephew’ comments.
I cringe, remembering the things Izzie and Ian told me that I mindlessly repeated to Hunter, not knowinghewas the person I was talking about. The stupid jibes. Thecucumber video.
Ireallywish he hadn’t seen the cucumber video.
But he did. And he still decided to kiss me, even though my attempts at influencing could’ve cost him his business.
So I’m upset, sure, but I can’t bring myself to hate him. And even if there’s no future for the two of us, I still wish there was one for the hotel – and for the villagers, too.
But we don’t always get to do the things we love most in life.
Isn’t that what Hunter told me?
It is.
And, most of the time, I suppose it’s true.
But what if this time it didn’t have to be?
Chapter 31
By the time we wake up the next morning, after a night which is thankfully free of goings-on (unless we’re counting Zara’s surprisingly loud snoring), there’s a message on all of our phones from Sabrina, summoning us to a breakfast meeting in the orangery, and confirming that, after the chaos of yesterday, today’s theme is going to be back to business.
Literally, I mean.
‘Today’s theme is “Back to Business”,’ she’s written. ‘Last night’s plans might have been disrupted, but we can’t allow ourselves to be distracted from our mission to promote the Chrysalis. The competition has just one day left to run. Let’s all have our best content ready to upload.’
‘Today’sactualtheme is “how the hell is anyone getting out of here anytime soon?”’ says Zara, pulling back the curtains to reveal a scene which is startlingly reminiscent of a post-apocalyptic movie. The tree blocking the gates isn’t the only one to have been blown down in last night’s storm: the long driveway is littered with leaves and branches, plus what looks like quite a few of Ian’s baked potatoes. As Zara said, it’s hard to see how anyone is going to get past the huge trunk that lies across the road, though, the sheer size of which I completely failed to appreciate while peering at it through the wind and rain. In the cold light of day, however, I can see that Hunter wasn’t exaggerating when he said it would take him a while to clear it; and, until he does, the only way anyone’s going to be leaving the castle is on foot.
I quickly pop back to my own room to put on some clean clothes, then make my way to the orangery, which is filled with lush greenery and tasteful wicker furniture, giving it an almost tropical feel, in stark contrast to the grey skies that are visible through the window.
The rest of the influencers are already there, along with Sabrina and Luna, who are hunched together over a laptop. Daniel is wearing a pair of sunglasses and wincing in pain every time a weak shaft of sunlight filters through the many windows. Bex is in a soft cream jumper which looks like cashmere, and which I’d be totally coveting if it wasn’t for the large ketchup stain she hasn’t quite managed to remove from it. It’s positioned right over her heart and makes her look like she’s been stabbed.
‘I can’t stay,’ says Dante, bursting importantly into the room. ‘I have a few dozen hungry guests to feed.Non-payingguests,’ he adds, glancing pointedly at me. ‘Then I need to figure out how we’re going to clear that tree and get them all back to the village,pronto. So you’re going to have to deal with this contest on your own, Sabrina. Oh, Hunter, there you are – good.’
He addresses the last words to Hunter himself, who pushes the door open, looking rumpled and bleary – although still unreasonably gorgeous – as if he hasn’t slept at all. Everyone except me stops what they’re doing to stare at him with open curiosity, all of them clearly struggling to recast him in their minds from handyman to heir. I do my best to focus on the sugar cubes I’m busy dropping into my cup of tea, but, after a minute or so, I can’t resist a quick peek at him over the top of the steaming mug.
Hunter’s standing by a potted palm, talking to Dante, who keeps waving his hands at the devastation, as if he can’t quite believe it has the audacity to exist. He doesn’t look up, or in my direction. It’s as if I’m not even here at all.
Back to being invisible, I guess. Although the Laird certainly noticed me last night, didn’t he? Which reminds me . . .
‘Er, wait a minute, would you?’ I call out as the two men finish their conversation and head for the door. I get up and follow them, really wishing I could speak to Dante in private, but knowing there’s no way he’s going to agree to that; not with how much he still has to do today.
‘Dante, I, er, wanted to apologise,’ I begin, my entire body cringing with awkwardness as I feel everyone’s eyes on me. ‘For what I said yesterday. I got everything wrong—’ I allow myself a quick glance at Hunter here ‘—and I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have told everyone you were the Laird’s nephew. I was just .?.?. well, I guess I was more freaked out by everything that’s been going on than I realised. The ketchup attack felt like the last straw.’
As apologies go, it’s not a great one, so I’m not surprised Dante looks uncomfortable rather than grateful for it.
‘Um, about that—’ he begins awkwardly, but, before he can go on, the orangery door opens and the Laird himself appears, Agnes hovering behind him with a tray of breakfast things.
