Chapter 60
Boycott against The Darlington: Many stars are staying away from this year’s Pearl Gala, but politicians such as cabinet member Lawrence Eddington and members of the royal family are also refusing to attend the charity gala.
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Henry
My heart was racing. I wasn’t sure if it was from excitement about the Pearl Gala or lingering withdrawal symptoms—perhaps both.
I stood off to the side of the red carpet, watching the flurry of camera flashes as photographers scrambled to get shots of Hollywood darling Kayden Bradley.
A lot of journalists had turned up to cover the gala, possibly even more than last year.
Presumably, they were all hoping for a new Darlington family scandal, but they wouldn’t get one—I would make sure of it.
Someone tapped me on the shoulder.
I spun around to see Rakesh. He wore a suit and clutched his beloved tablet, looking just as harried as I felt. His cheeks were flushed, but at least his hair was holding up—slicked into place with what looked like an entire pot of gel.
“You’re up in a moment.”
I nodded. “Is everything going to plan?”
“Yes.” He tapped away on his tablet. “We’ve had four last-minute cancellations, but not from anyone important. The last limousines for the red carpet should be arriving any moment, and the catering staff is about to start serving the aperitifs.”
I let out a relieved sigh. Finally, some good news. “Thank you, Rakesh. Really. I couldn’t have pulled this off without you.”
“I’m happy to help. But do you know what’s even better than thanks?”
“A raise?”
“A raise,” he confirmed with a grin.
I laughed and made a mental note to arrange it, even if accounting would kick up a fuss.
The Darlington couldn’t afford to lose Rakesh—especially not now that I was planning to take a step back.
Without the Vitalyn, I couldn’t keep working a hundred hours a week or more.
Right now, every hour felt like one too many.
But I hoped that time and support would get me back on track.
“You’re up,” Rakesh said, patting me on the shoulder.
I resisted the urge to make a face and took a deep breath instead, adjusting my jacket before stepping onto the red carpet. Dozens of cameras shot up in the air, and blinding flashes engulfed me. It wasn’t my favourite part of events, but it came with the territory.
“Henry, look left!”
“Henry, where’s Kate?”
“Henry, don’t you have a date tonight?”
“Henry, what happened to your girlfriend?”
“Henry, what can you say about Olivia Asterdam’s relationship with Marko Langston?”
“Henry, give us a smile!”
The photographers called my name, and I followed their directions and demands, but didn’t respond to their questions.
I didn’t want to talk—or even think—about Kate’s absence.
A small part of me had hoped we would make up before the gala, but I’d been fooling myself.
She hadn’t answered a single one of my letters.
Even so, the next one was already sealed in its envelope, waiting in my office.
I finally stepped off the red carpet two minutes later, although it felt like it had been twenty. Rakesh smiled at me from across the other side of the carpet, and I made my way into the ballroom.
The Darlington exuded elegance and luxury year-round, but in December, it took on a special kind of splendour.
The holiday decorations—the grand Christmas tree in the lobby and the countless tiny fairy lights, which took many hours of meticulous work to arrange—totally transformed the space.
I had always loved this time of year at the hotel.
A wave of melancholy washed over me as I considered the possibility that this might be the last time I saw it like this.
The future of The Darlington was still hanging in the balance.
I would do everything in my power to save it, but there was only so much one man could do.
The ballroom was also lavishly decorated. Lively voices filled the space, mixing with the live music. A digital display above the stage showed the donations. The figure currently stood at ￡5,423,050—not a record high, but still an impressive sum.
A waiter approached me with a glass of champagne, which I politely declined. I was trying to stay sober in every sense of the word. I made my way to the bar and grabbed a glass of water before mingling with the guests.
The attendees were a colourful mix of high society, including celebrities, politicians, aristocrats, and a few influencers Vivian had insisted on inviting.
I spotted Aliza Malik and Fiona Harrison, whose videos Olivia enjoyed watching.
I introduced myself to them, but quickly excused myself to continue shaking hands and encouraging people to donate.
Occasionally, someone would ask me about Kate, but I avoided the topic, using the question as an opportunity to excuse myself.
The ballroom gradually filled until every table and chair was occupied.
Last week, Rakesh and I had made some last-minute changes to the seating arrangement, and as a result, it was hardly noticeable that this year’s gala had a third fewer attendees.
The dance floor was larger, and we had added an extra bar.
Everything was going to plan. I was rarely fully at ease at events like these, but I felt myself loosen up a little.
“Henry!”
My shoulders tensed again. So much for loosening up. I turned to face Vivian as she strode towards me in high heels. She was wearing a green suit that perfectly matched the branding of this year’s gala.
“It’s time for the family photo. Come on!”
Her commanding tone left no room for debate. The sooner I got the photo over with, the sooner I could start avoiding my parents for the rest of the night.
I followed Vivian as she led me to one of the many photographers documenting the event. My parents were already there, posing for photos.
My mum’s eyes lit up when she saw me. “Henry, you look wonderful.”
I kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks. So do you.”
“Did you see who’s here tonight?” she asked with a smug smile that turned my stomach to ice.
I had already spotted Daphne Walsh in the crowd and suspected my mum was trying to set me up with her.
Although she didn’t know the details of what had happened between Kate and me, she hadn’t failed to notice that we’d broken up.
I feigned ignorance. “No, who?”
“Daphne!” My mum clapped her hands gleefully. “You absolutely must ask her to dance later. I’m sure she’d be delighted—even if your date back then didn’t work out. Anything could happen!”
“I don’t think so.”
Her smile faded. “Why not? She’s a great woman. Pretty. Smart. Educated. And after that homeless girl—”
“Kate,” I corrected.
She rolled her eyes, as if I was being pedantic for insisting she use Kate’s name. “Now that Kate is no longer in the picture, it’s time you started looking for a woman who’s more suitable—both for you and for this family.”
“I’m not interested.” Not in Daphne nor in any other woman.
My feelings for Kate hadn’t changed just because she was gone.
It would probably take an eternity to get over her—which, truthfully, I didn’t want to do.
On the contrary, I wanted her back. She was a truly special person, something my mum had never been able to see.
“Henry . . .”
To my surprise, my dad came to my defence. “Leave the lad alone. He doesn’t want to date Daphne. Anyway, he’d be doing us all a favour if he focussed on the hotel for the next few months instead of on his love life.”
I would decide what my priorities were, but I let my dad’s comment slide, because I didn’t have the energy to argue with him. And because some battles just weren’t worth fighting.
Vivian returned with Ethan in tow. He held a cocktail glass in his hand, which Vivian practically had to wrestle away from him.
“Stand next to Henry,” she ordered, pushing Ethan towards me. “And smile, please. You’re thrilled to be here tonight.”
“I guess so,” my brother mumbled, smelling strongly of alcohol.
I wrinkled my nose. “How are you already drunk?”
He shrugged. “It’s my god-given talent.”
“Pull yourself together,” my dad hissed through clenched teeth, forcing a smile. The photographer had already started taking pictures, even though it must have been clear this wasn’t a conversation we wanted captured for posterity.
“I wouldn’t have to pull myself together if this gala weren’t so fucking dull.”
“This is a charity fundraising event, not some party where you can get wasted,” I pointed out.
“But it could be one. I bet that would really get people feeling generous.”
I rolled my eyes, but instead of answering, I plastered on the best fake smile I could muster. The photographer took photos of us from every possible angle and in various groupings. Those few moments dragged on even longer than my time on the red carpet, but eventually, it was over.
Ethan let out a relieved groan, grabbed his cocktail glass from Vivian, and returned to his friends, who had been watching our photo shoot with amusement. I made my own escape before my mum could get it into her head to start introducing me to women I had no interest in dating.
I grabbed another glass of water and asked the bartender to keep an eye on Ethan, cutting him off if necessary.
The event had to stay drama-free, and that included ensuring Ethan and his friends behaved themselves.
It was one thing when the four of them went overboard at the club—that was old news, since it happened every weekend, and rarely attracted press attention—but this was a different story.