Chapter 15
Good morning. I hope you slept well. I’m afraid I had to go to the office, and I didn’t want to wake you. You can order breakfast, or take cornflakes and milk from the kitchen.
Note from Henry to Kate
Kate
I leapt up in a panic. Even before I was fully awake, a sense of dread washed over me, accompanied by a familiar tingle that told me that something was wrong. Something was different . . .
. . . Everything was different.
I wasn’t in St. James’s Park. And I wasn’t lying under a pile of blankets, with twigs from last night’s storm tangled in my hair.
I was at The Darlington, the most luxurious hotel in London, lying in the softest, warmest, cosiest bed of all time.
It hadn’t been a dream. I was really here.
Henry had picked me up from the park in the middle of the storm and let me shelter in his penthouse.
My heartbeat slowed as I pieced everything together.
Taking a deep breath, I surveyed Henry’s guest room, which was probably bigger than most London apartments.
I hadn’t figured out how to close the blinds, and the bright poststorm sun streamed into the room.
I squinted against the resplendent blue of the sky.
According to the digital alarm clock on the bedside table, it was already past ten.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept so long.
I usually woke to the sound of early morning joggers or, at the very latest, to the hum of rush-hour traffic.
But today, nothing and no one had disturbed me—not even Henry.
A part of me wanted to stay put and savour the snug bed for as long as possible, but most of me wanted to find Henry.
I headed to the bathroom and slipped into the clothes I’d washed the night before in the bathtub.
The heating had dried them overnight. I brushed my teeth and then stuffed the hotel shower gel and shampoo into my rucksack.
They smelled amazing, and I figured that Henry wouldn’t leave them for the next guest, given that I’d already used them. They’d probably just end up in the bin.
I shrugged on my rucksack and unlocked the door.
The open-plan living area seemed even bigger in the daylight, perhaps because of the incredible view visible now that the clouds had cleared.
I could see Westminster Bridge and Big Ben, and the Thames sparkled below in the sunlight.
It took my breath away. After a moment, I remembered that I was looking for Henry.
I turned on my heels. “Henry?”
When no one answered, I turned my attention to what I assumed was his bedroom door.
It was open. I approached it cautiously and knocked, but I was met with silence.
It looked like he was gone. I didn’t know what to make of the fact that he’d left me—someone who’d stolen his phone—alone in his apartment.
The man was a complete mystery to me. He confused me in a way no one had before.
Especially last night. I replayed the memory of how he’d cooked for me in his T-shirt and jogging bottoms. The sight of him had sparked a heat in me that I hadn’t felt for a long time.
I glanced around, unsure of what to do now.
My blankets were probably still with the laundry service.
Should I wait here? Crossing the room to the kitchen, I spotted a note next to the sink.
I picked it up and squinted at the scrawl of writing.
What the hell did it say? Something about offense.
Or was it office? And something that looked like breakfast and milk.
Beyond that I couldn’t decipher much, except for Henry’s signature.
Oddly, it was neater than the rest of the note. So maybe he was at his office.
I decided to wait for my blankets. There was nothing else to do. I scanned the kitchen, found the cornflakes, and poured myself a bowl before settling onto the sofa. Beside it stood a DVD shelf holding no fewer than twenty copies of London Has Fallen, a Gerard Butler film. Odd.
My gaze wandered from the shelf to the breathtaking view.
I snuggled up in a blanket that lay on the sofa and ate my cornflakes, enjoying the warmth.
The sun was shining, but I suspected a biting cold awaited me outside.
I knew whatever came next wouldn’t be as idyllic, safe, and peaceful as I felt right now.
I should have been making the most of it, but instead a creeping bitterness and envy was taking hold.
Henry had so much, and I had so little. It wasn’t fair.
I knew that it wasn’t his fault that he’d been born into wealth.
But it wasn’t my fault, either, that I was the product of a one-night stand and the daughter of a drug addict who had died of an overdose.
The sound of the apartment door jolted me from my bleak thoughts.
I turned on the sofa, expecting to see Henry, but instead, a young woman stood in the doorway.
She had plaited blond hair and was wearing a dark uniform with a name badge I couldn’t quite make out pinned beneath the embroidered Darlington Hotel logo.
Her features were pretty, the expression on her face mirroring my own surprise.
She stood rooted to the spot, staring at me as though uncertain of her next move. That made two of us.
“Hey,” I said, waving awkwardly.
“Hi,” she replied and stepped tentatively into the room. She pulled in a cart bearing various cleaning products behind her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know anyone was here. Mr. Darlington is usually at the office at this time.”
“Yes, he’s at the office. Or is committing an offense.” I smiled, but my joke was met with no more than a tired frown. “Forget it. Are you returning my blankets?”
“No. I’m just here to clean. Should I come back later?”
I looked around at the apartment. It seemed pretty spotless to me. “No, don’t let me stop you. I’m just waiting to get my things back from the laundry.”
“It’ll probably take another two or three hours.”
“Oh, OK. Then I guess I’ll make myself at home,” I said, wishing Henry were here. It felt strange to be in his apartment without him.
The woman, who looked only a couple of years older than me, pushed the cleaning cart into the kitchen and wiped down the already pristine kitchen counters. I watched her for a moment, but the silence between us felt strange.
I cleared my throat. “I’m Kate. What’s your name?”
The woman looked up, her face softening into a warm, inviting smile. I immediately felt less tense. “Grace.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Grace.” I got up from the sofa and took my cornflakes to the kitchen counter so we wouldn’t have to shout across the room.
Only now did I notice the rings adorning Grace’s fingers.
They were all silver, but each was unique in shape and cut.
Although they looked mismatched, together they exuded organised chaos.
Grace looked at me. “You’re the woman from the photos.”
“What photos?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “From the INsider. Wait.” She typed on her phone and then held it out to show me a photograph.
It was of Henry and me at McDonald’s, capturing the moment I’d placed my hand on his.
The headline read, “Is Henry Cheating on Olivia? Who Is the Mysterious Woman He’s Been Spotted With? ”
A pang shot through my gut. I didn’t care much that I was in the photo—nobody knew me. But I was worried about Henry. He was a decent guy, and I was sure he wouldn’t cheat on his girlfriend. I hated that people might think he would.
I looked up at Grace, who was watching me inquisitively. “Henry and I aren’t together. He’s just a friend. I slept in his guest room. Really! You can check. The bed is a mess. From sleeping!”
Grace smirked. “You don’t have to justify yourself to me.”
“I know, but I . . .” I hesitated for a moment to order my thoughts.
My mouth was suddenly dry, and my hands were sweating.
“I’m nervous,” I said, wiping my palms on my trousers.
“I didn’t expect someone to come into the apartment.
And it feels weird even just being here.
I don’t usually hang out in fancy hotels with room attendants and chandeliers. ”
The look in Grace’s brown eyes softened, and her expression became more understanding. “Yes, The Darlington is special. I’ve been working here for almost two years, and I’m still not used to all this grandeur and luxury.”
I stirred my mushy cornflakes. “Do you like working here?”
She shrugged. “It could be worse.”
“You’re not really selling it.”
Grace hesitated for a moment. “Things have been overwhelming lately because of the allegations. The other day, a reporter followed me home trying to get a statement. He even ambushed my dad and asked if he was afraid that Richard Darlington might sexually abuse me too. It’s all so surreal.”
I nodded. That did sound surreal. I couldn’t imagine how much more difficult it must be for Henry. “Do you always clean Henry’s apartment?”
“Not always, but pretty regularly for the past three or four months, after Tanya quit. She used to take care of the Darlingtons’ apartments,” Grace explained as she emptied the rubbish into a bin on her cleaning cart.
“And what’s Henry like?” I asked, hoping to discover something about him that would help me understand him better.
Grace moved on to the living area, where she plumped the sofa cushions.
“If you ask me, he’s the nicest of them all.
His brother Ethan is an arrogant shit, and his friends are even greater arrogant shits.
And don’t get me started on Richard. Mrs. Darlington is OK, but quite fussy.
She told me off once because I’d accidentally moved a vase a few centimetres when I was dusting. ”
I spooned cornflakes into my mouth. “Henry isn’t like that?”
“No, not at all. He even knows my name.”
I furrowed my brow. “Is that unusual?”
“It is. In our black uniforms, we all look the same to them. But it doesn’t really matter. The pay is good, and that’s what matters most, isn’t it?” said Grace. She didn’t seem to expect an answer. “How do you know Mr. Darlington? Henry, I mean.”
“From bouldering,” I lied. “We go to the same climbing gym.”
Grace took out her duster. “Lucky you. I came across him at the gym once, at the weekend. He looks even better in workout clothes than he does in a suit.”
My thoughts drifted to last night, to Henry standing in the kitchen wearing his black jogging trousers and grey T-shirt. How the fabric had clung to his muscular biceps. I had allowed myself the briefest glance, but it was still enough to make me blush at the memory. Grace noticed.
“You really aren’t together?”
“No. We haven’t known each other for long.”
“Well, anything could happen,” Grace philosophised.
“Isn’t Henry with Olivia?”
“No, they’re just very good friends.”
Grace’s answer inexplicably made my heart race. The feeling was totally irrational. Henry clearly liked me enough to help me, but he most definitely wasn’t interested in me in that way. “What about you? Do you have a boyfriend?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation away from myself.
“No. I broke up with my ex a few months ago. I just want to focus on myself for a bit. This job is supposed to be a temporary solution, until I find out what I really want to do. What about you? What do you do?”
“I’m looking for a job,” I answered. I could hardly tell her I made my money pickpocketing.
Grace and I talked as she cleaned. She was friendly, and we were on the same wavelength.
She had a lot of anecdotes about the hotel, from special guest requests to the unsettling things she had seen and heard while she was cleaning.
I followed her like a shadow through the rooms and onto the mezzanine, stopping only at Henry’s bedroom.
Going in there without his permission seemed like a breach of trust.
Grace eventually had to leave to clean other rooms. We said goodbye, and suddenly I was alone again in a huge apartment that didn’t belong to me and where I felt like an intruder. As much as I wanted to be here, I didn’t belong. It wasn’t my world. It was Henry’s.