Page 6
By the time I reach my office on the top floor, Jess has her coat on and is turning off the Christmas lights on the tree she insisted we should put up in here.
“I thought you would’ve left already,” I say to her.
“I’m trying,” she says, grinning. “But you keep talking to me.”
I incline my head at the door. “Get out of here. I’ll call you tomorrow.” It’s her day to work from home. That way she gets to take her kids to school.
“Yes boss.” She grabs her purse and hurries out. I walk over to my desk, but I don’t sit down. I’ve been sitting all afternoon, and my muscles are already feeling restless. Instead, I turn and look out of the window at the city stretching out before me.
My great-great grandfather insisted on his office being up here, rather than on the ground floor where most normal bosses would want to be. Back then it had an unhindered view of London. Rumor has it that he liked to be able to keep watch for his wife, while he smuggled his mistresses up here.
Leaning my head on the window, I let out an exhale that turns to condensation on the cool glass. You can almost see the Thames over the roofs of the buildings that line the embankment. Tiny little lights from the boats bob on the inky black water. To the right the London Eye is lit up, a vibrant pink circle against the dark London sky, and to the left there’s a parade of red lights as cars, buses, and trucks slowly cross Waterloo Bridge, taking people home after a long day of work.
Tiny red lights cross the sky, no doubt from an airplane flying into City Airport.
It’s funny how London is one of the biggest cities on earth and also the easiest place to feel lonely.
Shaking my head, I turn to my desk and pull out my chair, settling heavily in my seat as I open my laptop to the hundreds of emails that Jess has already filtered for me.
I hate emails as much as I hate board meetings. The problem is, I’m good at this. Running the hotel along with our other investments and properties.
The screen flickers on, and I click the first email in my inbox, grabbing the cup of coffee that Jess must have made and left on my desk before she went home.
I take a sip and grimace at the temperature, then set it down and get to work.
This is what I’m good at. Business, decisions, anything that doesn’t require emotion. I understand those.
The rest of it… I’ve learned to live without.
3
GEORGIA
As soon as I’m through customs and waiting for my luggage, I switch on my phone. There are a few messages from friends wishing me a great trip, and some spam that I quickly delete. And then I see an email from Jennifer, and smirk at the fact that she still uses the same address she created when she was twelve years old.
I love that she’s completely unembarrassed by it.
I get pushed three times by people lunging for their luggage as they start to appear on the carousel, but I still manage to open it anyway.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Fwd: Your booking
Dear Georgia,
You made it to London! We are so proud of you. Please find below your early Christmas gift for being the BEST FRIEND a couple could want. And I don’t want to hear thanks, or complaints that we spent too much. Enjoy it. For one night. You deserve it, Jennifer and Derrick xx
I scroll down, blinking at the elegant green and cream logo in the original email, followed by,
Thank you for booking at The Hunt Hotel. We look forward to meeting you. Please find the details of your stay below.
“No way,” I mutter, shaking my head at my friends’ generosity. “You idiots.”
God, I love them. Even if they’re now my bankrupt best friends.
Everybody in the world knows The Hunt Hotel. It’s as famous as The Ritz and The Savoy. As expensive, too.
