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“Think of what you’ll miss if you don’t go,” Jennifer says. “Hot cocoa in The Ritz, the Christmas tree in Trafalgar Square. And mulled wine. All the mulled wine.” She looks at Derrick. “Can you believe they actually drink hot red wine over there?”

“I think they drink it in a lot of places, sweetie,” Derrick says. Then he clears his throat, like he has something important to say. “But she’s right, Georgia. Think of it as an adventure. You’ll have fun. God knows you deserve some of that after all you’ve been through this year.”

My chest tightens. It’s not that I’m afraid of flying alone. Or spending time in a city I’ve only ever seen on the screen before. I’m thirty-one years old, I’ve flown alone before.

And Derrick’s right. I’m a little bruised now. Funny how life can do that to you.

“Okay,” I say, because the last thing I need is for Jennifer to worry about me. “I’ll go.” I keep my voice brave, even though the thought of being in London alone makes my stomach tighten.

“Yes!” Jennifer says.

“But if I hate it, I’m coming back early.”

“Just see how it goes,” Derrick murmurs. “But make sure you have a good time, okay?”

“And make sure you find a sexy Englishman,” Jennifer adds.

I laugh softly, and say goodbye, because it’s getting late and I really need to finish this packing. Tomorrow morning I have to finish all the work I didn’t get to today because the whole office was buzzing with news of job losses coming our way. And the morning after I’ll catch a cab to JFK, push through check in and security, ready to catch my late afternoon flight.

Sighing, I bring my attention back to my luggage, sliding an extra pair of boots into the second case, because apparently, I’m a chronic over packer. And, let’s face it, everybody knows London is full of fashionistas, and I don’t want to look out of place.

Maybe Jennifer and Derrick are right. Maybe I need this trip. A chance to start over, to reinvent myself.

I snap the suitcase shut and take a deep breath, looking around my messy apartment. I catch my reflection in the mirror. I’m as chaotic as my bedroom, hair half-up in a messy bun, the other half spilling out over my shoulders.

For a second I consider unpacking it all. Wouldn’t I be better off staying here, playing it safe?

I huff out a laugh. Like that’s ever worked out well for me.

“It’s going to be fine,” I murmur at my reflection in an attempt to reassure myself. “You’re only going away for a couple of weeks. What could possibly change in such a short time?”

2

THEO

I scan my eyes over the proposal in front of me. If you can even call it a proposal. It’s more of a handwritten jumble of numbers that seem to be plucked out of thin air. Either way, I let out a sigh because yet again I’m going to look like the bad guy.

“This isn’t worth our time or money,” I say, pulling my gaze back to the board table. There are six people sitting around it. My father, my brother, my uncle, and two cousins, along with my assistant who’s taking notes. “I’m sorry, Alex, but Vegas just isn’t a good investment opportunity as things stand. We need to concentrate on this hotel for the time being.” Because Christ knows the past few years have put our profits through the wringer. First the pandemic, then the cost of living crisis. I’ve spent enough evenings going over numbers with our finance team to know that we don’t have the kind of capital it takes for this type of investment.

Which is frustrating. We should be making more money than we are. And I’m determined to make sure next year is our best year yet.

“The real estate there is going for a damn song,” Alex protests.

“For good reason,” I point out. “Have you seen the hotel occupancy rates there?”

I could parrot them out, but Alex is already looking stormy, the way he always does when I point out reality to him.

You’d think he’d be more mature at thirty-seven, but he never acts like it. This is the third time he’s tried to persuade the board to look at expanding our brand to Las Vegas, and we all know it’s a bad idea.

But I’m the only one who actually voices it.

“We could fly somebody out to take a look at some potential hotels,” our father says mildly. He’s always had a weak spot for his first-born.

“And it would be pointless,” I say, not bothering to sugarcoat it this time. “If you want to burn money, throw it on the fire in the lobby. People just aren’t going to Vegas in this economy.”

“He’s right,” my uncle murmurs. “I’d be opposed to any expansion right now. Theo’s said he’s working on profitability here. He’s the expert, I trust him.”

My cousins nod in agreement with their father.