Chapter 8
Have fun! Drink one for me!
Message from Kate in the group chat “Hive Mind”
Grace
“Rose Kennedy and Grace Claymore,” Rose bellowed at the bouncer.
We had been standing in line for almost an hour already, waiting to be let in—it seemed like the whole city wanted to party here tonight.
The queue behind us stretched on endlessly.
Although I wasn’t in the mood for clubbing, I was glad we were about to be let in, because I was freezing.
I clutched Amy’s favourite coat around me tightly, grateful for every last bit of warmth it gave me.
The bouncer glanced from Rose to me, his eyes lingering on the coat with distaste—it didn’t exactly match the club’s fancy vibe.
Then he turned his attention back to the black guest book, skimming the list before ticking off our names.
If we hadn’t been on the guest list, he probably would have turned me away, but as it was, he didn’t have a choice.
He unhooked the cord barring our way and let us through. A crimson carpet led to the entrance, which had been decorated for the opening with black balloons and dark roses. The music spilling out from inside was so loud that even in the entrance, the bass felt intense enough to rearrange my organs.
We went to the cloakroom to hand in our coats.
I stashed the tickets safely into my clutch, so Rose would have to let me know if she left early with some guy, which she usually did.
Hopefully it would be sooner rather than later.
Because once Rose had left with her conquest of the night, I could go home and continue with my investigations into Amy’s death.
“Are you ready to dive in?” Rose asked. She looked ravishing in her strapless dress and high heels, which emphasised her sensual figure and added a few extra inches to her height.
Her thick brown hair cascaded over her shoulders in lush waves, and her eyes—so vibrantly green that they almost seemed unreal—were heavily lined with dark makeup.
There was a time when I would have dressed up like Rose to go clubbing, but back then, those nights had still been fun.
Right now, I just wanted to be back at home, because the idea of enjoying myself seemed impossible.
And it showed. I wore flat black shoes that screamed business meeting rather than sexy night out and a figure-hugging but plain dress.
I had no desire to draw any attention to myself.
“Ready,” I replied, although the only thing I was really ready for was to leave.
I didn’t want to be like this. I wanted to have fun and live my life, as Amy would have wanted.
I just didn’t know how. After her death, it felt as though a grey veil had settled over the world, making everything bleak and joyless.
Everything that had once brought me happiness now seemed flat and meaningless.
Rose grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the entrance into the club itself, which was housed in a former industrial hall.
It was already packed, despite how huge the space was.
Hundreds of people swayed in time to the music, lit up by flashing lights.
A female DJ stood on a round podium in the middle of the club, firing up the crowd.
Professional dancers undulated on raised platforms, some moving freely, others around poles—but all of them were wearing barely any clothes.
A spiral staircase led up to a gallery offering a view of the dancing masses below.
There seemed to be seating up there too, though I doubted Rose and I would find space. We’d arrived far too late for that.
Rose pulled me through a thick throng of clubbers to one of the bars, where we were lucky enough to grab two stools. We ordered cocktails, which the barkeeper slid down the bar to us.
“To a fun evening,” Rose toasted. The music was so loud that she had to yell, even though we were sitting right next to each other.
“To a fun evening,” I echoed, trying to match her enthusiasm. We clinked glasses, and I took a sip of my mai tai. It was tasty but strong. “Phew, I’d better not drink too much of this.”
Rose gave a little cough. “Yeah, this really packs a punch. Do you want to try?”
We swapped drinks. Rose’s cocktail was even stronger than mine, though at these exorbitant prices, making the alcohol count was the least they could do.
We’d paid sixty pounds for two drinks, and I could already tell that this would be our first and last time at this club.
It was clearly not for people like me and Rose; it was for the likes of Ethan Darlington and his friends.
They would probably order the most expensive bottle of champagne just on principle—and then leave it half finished.
“Where’s Kate tonight?” Rose asked.
“She’s at some event with her boss, sweet-talking people from the planning office,” I said, passing back her cocktail. “Hope Harbour submitted plans for a new homeless shelter for women, and they’re pushing for fast approval so they can get going with the construction.”
“That’s a good reason to ditch us.”
“Definitely,” I agreed, my chest swelling with pride.
I was impressed by what Kate had built up in the past few months.
Some people were saying that none of it was her own doing and that she owed it all to Henry, but that wasn’t true.
He’d only levelled the playing field in an unjust world.
It was Kate who had seized the chance. And that didn’t make her achievements any less her own.
“How are things in the kitchen?”
Rose sighed. “I’m worried that Matthieu is going to quit soon.”
Matthieu was head chef at Darlington Dining, the hotel’s restaurant. It served breakfast and lunch to hotel guests and opened its doors to the public in the evening. The food there was as overpriced as the drinks in this club. “What makes you say that?”
“He’s been acting strange lately, and he’s always on the phone. I overheard him talking about money. He’s probably already looking for a new job. If he quits, we’re done for. The restaurant would be lost without him.”
“It won’t be. They’ll find a good replacement.”
“Nobody is as good as Matthieu,” Rose protested.
“He holds that kitchen together.” If I hadn’t known better, I might have thought she had a crush on Matthieu, but she admired him on a purely professional level.
She worshipped Michelin-star chefs the way other people did rock stars.
If there had been posters of them, she doubtless would have them pinned above her bed.
“I know at least three people who only still work at Darlington Dining because of him. He’s the best head chef you could imagine. ”
“Would you quit?” I asked, a knot suddenly tightening in my stomach. I tried to ease it with another sip of my cocktail. Maybe it was selfish of me, but Amy was dead, my family was ignoring me, and Kate had already quit. I didn’t want Rose leaving too. I felt lost and lonely enough as it was.
“I haven’t quit yet, and I’m not about to just yet,” she said with a reassuring smile, patting my hand as if she knew exactly what I was thinking.
“The Darlington pays better than most restaurants, and I still need a few thousand pounds for Kingston. So it’ll be another couple of months before I can afford to leave. ”
A couple of months. By that time, maybe I’d have my life back on track enough that I could be genuinely happy for Rose when she left London.
Ever since we’d met, she’d talked about going to Kingston Cookery School in Plymouth, down in the southwest of England.
A few years ago, she’d come close to making her dream a reality, but then fate had intervened, and her dad was diagnosed with cancer.
He was healthy again now, but Rose had used up her savings to support her family, since her dad hadn’t been able to work for a long time.
“Enough about my depressing week. How was yours?” Rose asked.
I raised my eyebrows.
“OK, I get it. Your week was depressing too. But I want to know what’s new. How is it being back at work?”
“It feels good not to be sitting around at home anymore, although my feet will have to get used to it again,” I said, glancing down at my flat shoes and wiggling my toes. “But it’s annoying that everyone treats me like I might fall apart at any moment.”
“They’re just worried about you.”
“Yeah, but there’s no need. I’m fine.”
“Are you?”
“Yes,” I insisted. “I’ve only had one major cry this week, and that was entirely down to people at The Darlington. Did you know they collected money for me?”
“They don’t mean any harm,” Rose said diplomatically. She had probably chipped in herself.
“I know, and I don’t want to seem ungrateful. I just wish things could go back to how they were before. Things are already so weird at home, and now they’re strange at the hotel too. Even Beelzebub is acting differently.”
Rose’s ears pricked up at the mention of Ethan. She knew I never mentioned him in passing. I only brought him up to vent about something he’d done. Only this time, I was more confused than infuriated. “What do you mean?”
“He’s just not behaving like himself,” I replied, not sure how to describe his transformation. “He didn’t invite anyone over to his place all week. I even caught him studying. His flat was always tidy, and . . .”
“And what?”
“And on Monday, he hugged me.”
Rose spat the mouthful of cocktail she’d just taken back into her glass and stared at me wide-eyed, the colourful strobe lights flashing across her face. “He did what? How did that happen?”
“I was pretty shaken after talking to a few people in the break room. I felt so uncomfortable that I was almost looking forward to Ethan throwing some insults my way. But instead, he offered his condolences. It was just too much. I started crying right there in his penthouse, and then . . . he hugged me. For a really long time.”
“Did you like it?”
“No!” I protested far too quickly.
Rose was the only person who knew about my weakness when it came to Ethan.
I’d confessed, after one too many gin and tonics last summer, that a rogue part of me was attracted to him.
He was objectively hot, and his perfectly sculpted body was as intimidating as it was impressive.
I was honestly curious about how it would feel to spend a night with him.
Not that it would ever happen—not least because his terrible personality smothered every spark of desire I might have felt.
My confession had surprised Rose, but she wasn’t blind, so she got it.
Especially since she despised most men but still got involved with them for her own pleasure.
“Oh my God,” Rose squealed. “You enjoyed it!”
“I didn’t!”
She examined me through narrowed eyes. “Liar! I can tell!”
I bit my lower lip. “Fine, I liked it. It was a great hug. But that doesn’t mean anything. It’s just that Ethan is big and strong and built to hold things tight—traumatised chambermaids, for example.”
Rose snorted. “You’re a weird pair.”
“We’re not a pair. He’s the devil!”
“Yeah, but it was the devil who turned into a snake and seduced Eve.”
“If you think I’d ever get involved with Ethan, then you’ve had too much of this.” I tapped her half-empty cocktail glass. “I have something called decency, dignity, and self-respect.”
“If you say so.”
“I’m not just saying it. I mean it.”
“I hope so,” Rose said with a warning look.
She might understand my crush, but if anything actually happened between Ethan and me, she’d be the first to judge me.
She hated the Darlingtons with a passion.
She already resented Kate for being with Henry, but since she hadn’t known Kate all that well yet when the relationship started, she let it go.
She’d be far less forgiving of me. Not that it mattered, because I was never going to get involved with Ethan Darlington. Never.