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“For fuck’s sake,” Alex mutters, narrowing his eyes at me. “Theo’s not the only shareholder here. There are six of us after all.”

“I am the only one who works here on a daily basis, though,” I say firmly. Because the rest of them are happy to take dividends whenever we pay them out, but I’m the one who’s here at the hotel from six in the morning, making sure the company runs smoothly. And the one who doesn’t leave until nine at night, because somebody has to keep the Hunt legacy going.

“How about we review the situation at the next quarterly meeting?” our father says to Alex. “Once Theo works his magic, there’ll be more money to invest.” He turns to me. “Right, Theo?”

“Right,” I say, because I’m tired and I need this meeting to be over.

It’s almost six. I have at least three more hours of work ahead of me before I can even think of going home.

“Is that everything?” I ask them. “Or is there any other business?”

Please god, let this be over. I’m starting to get a headache. A four-hour board meeting with my family tends to do that to me.

“I have nothing else,” my father says. My cousins and uncles say the same. Alex looks like he’s already halfway out of the door, mentally at least.

“In that case, let’s end this here.” I look over at Jess, my assistant. “Can you get the minutes out next week?” I ask her, because I’m not going to demand she works on them tonight. She has a family to go home to. One she actually likes.

“Of course.” She nods. “Can I arrange a car for anybody?”

“No thank you,” my uncle says. “Jamie is driving Ellie to the station and me home.”

“And my driver’s taking me to my club,” my father adds.

Alex just grunts, as we all stand up, and file out of the boardroom. The rest of my family heads toward the lobby, my cousins shaking my hand, my brother pointedly ignoring me.

My father, however, lingers behind.

“Ah, your mother was wondering if you’d received the invitation,” he says as he slowly pulls on his charcoal wool coat.

“What invitation?” I ask him. Because there’s a pile of mail stacked by the front door of my house in Marylebone. And quite frankly, it won’t get opened until I have a spare five minutes. Probably sometime in the next century.

“To our Christmas party.”

“You’re staying home this year?” I ask. Because most Christmases they prefer to celebrate out of the country.

“Yes. She needs to know numbers. Not quite sure of the date though,” my father says, shrugging. It’s so like him not to know. He’s always let my mother make all the plans. “She was just asking, that’s all.”

I take a breath. “I’ll let you know.”

And when I do, the answer will be no. The thought of spending even more time with my family makes me shiver. Especially near Christmas.

The holiday season makes people expect too many things. Mostly of me. To be happy, to be sentimental. To be all the things I’m not.

I’d rather work through it. It’s our busy time at the hotel anyway.

“You do that.” He winds his cashmere scarf around his neck. “I’m late for dinner at Annabel’s. I’ll speak to you soon.”

“I thought you said you were going to your club,” I say, raising a brow.

He blinks. Just that second too long. “I’m going there afterward,” he says quickly. “Goodbye Theo, don’t forget to let your mother know about the party.”

I nod at him as he leaves, then grab my laptop, turning off the lights to the boardroom as I head into the main lobby of The Hunt Hotel.

We’re almost fully booked, but then occupancy is always high at this time of year. Built in the 1890s by my great-great grandfather, The Hunt Hotel is set on the edge of Covent Garden, convenient for the Royal Opera House, which had recently taken the place of the Theatre Royal which previously stood at the same location.

Back then, land in London had been cheap and my great-great grandfather decided to build a hotel because he spent so much time here, thanks to his many mistresses and his love of the theatre. He managed to buy a swathe of land opposite what was then a working fruit and vegetable market at Covent Garden, and built the kind of impressive building that attracted wealthy guests from both sides of the Atlantic.

The lobby is full of conversation and laughter as I walk through the glass domed atrium, nodding at the piano player who’s performing all the holiday classics.