Chapter 8
EIGHT
‘A suite at the Ritz?’ I said into the phone, which was pressed so hard against my ear it was starting to hurt. My smile stretched so wide I worried the bit of dry skin on my top lip might crack open. ‘For tomorrow and Friday? I’m sure we can fix that for you, Cormac.’
‘Ah, I knew I could count on you, Georgia,’ the Irish brogue that had melted the hearts of a nation purred down the line. ‘“Everything is possible”, right?’
‘That’s what we say,’ I chirped as brightly as I could. ‘Leave it with me, Cormac. I’ll drop you a note to confirm or ring you if there are any questions.’
Or rather, brace myself for a horribly awkward conversation if it turned out that particular hoop wasn’t going to be possible for me to jump through.
‘There’s just one thing, Georgia. The cost. I did have a look online, and I’ve got to be honest with you, their prices are on the… punchy side.’
I forced a tinkly little laugh, my cheeks beginning to ache from smiling. ‘Aren’t they just? Well, it is the Ritz.’
A note of steel entered my client’s voice. ‘And I’m Cormac Kennedy. You tell them that and they’ll be sure to give me a discount, won’t they?’
Will they? Somehow, I doubted that, in the unlikely event that a suite was available for the weekend at such short notice, the hotel was likely to budge much, if at all, on its rack rate – not when the alternative was securing the goodwill of a loyal customer who was paying full whack by upgrading them.
I forced my face into an even bigger smile, hoping it would come across in my voice. ‘I’ll do my best. Have a wonderful rest of the morning, Cormac.’
‘Oh, I will,’ he replied, thankfully not adding, So long as you come up with the goods.
Then, to my relief, he ended the call.
‘Tight fucker,’ I muttered.
Jamie looked up from his screen. ‘So Mr Kennedy’s reached Celebrity Level Four?’
‘How d’you mean?’
He raised a fisted hand, then stuck out his thumb. ‘Level One: Oh my God, someone actually recognised me in the street and asked for a selfie with me.’
I nodded. ‘They love that. Remember that influencer client we had a while back who used to carry a Sharpie around with him so he could sign girls’ skin?’
‘Creepy AF, that was.’ Jamie grimaced, then followed the thumb with his index finger. ‘Level Two: It’s actually getting kind of old being recognised all the time. Surely I’m entitled to some privacy?’
‘Yup. That’s normally when the passive-aggressive posts on their socials start. The ones that go, “I’m not talking about you guys, but…”’
‘Oh God. Don’t let’s start about the passive-aggressive social media posts.’
‘Three words: Brooklyn Peltz Beckham.’
‘Not sure there was anything passive about that,’ he countered. ‘Anyway. Moving swiftly on to Level Three: If this is what I have to put up with, I deserve more than mere mortals who don’t.’
‘And Level Four,’ I chimed in. ‘And what’s more, I shouldn’t be expected to pay full whack for it.’
He nodded. ‘Correct.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Yep, Cormac’s there all right. What’s Level Five?’
‘Level Fives don’t have to ask for discounts; they get offered them. But they’re rich enough that they don’t generally accept. Sadly, they’re also rich enough that they’ve got their own PAs organising this stuff for them and have no need for the likes of us.’
‘Well, we’ll just have to count the days until Cormac reaches those dizzy heights and fucks off off our books,’ I said, glancing guiltily around to check that Jasper hadn’t somehow materialised in the office and overheard me.
To my relief, he hadn’t. I was even more relieved when my call to the Ritz got me my favourite bookings person, who told me that she was a massive fan of Cormac’s, they’d had a cancellation, and she was sure she’d be able to knock ten per cent off the cost of the room and throw in a free spa treatment for good measure.
I ended the call and gave a little fist-pump of triumph. ‘Nailed it!’
‘Well played,’ Jamie said approvingly.
But the brief surge of adrenaline the exchange had given me faded almost immediately.
I felt myself returning to the state of leaden gloom that had started a few seconds after I woke up that morning, which was how long it had taken me to recall my conversation with Sam the Monday after he returned from visiting Ava – over a week ago now – and huffed out a sigh.
Jamie looked at me astutely. He had been out of the office for most of the past week, so was out of the loop on the Sam situation – not that there was much of a loop to be in – but I could tell he was reading my mood as accurately as ever.
‘You look like you could use a stiff drink. But since it’s only eleven in the morning, how about a coffee, extra sprinkles? ’
‘Yes please.’
He strolled off towards the kitchen, and I sent Cormac a message to confirm his booking was all sorted, but my thoughts had returned to Sam.
While we were getting ready for work that morning, he had acted totally normal – maybe even nicer than normal, as had been the case for the past week.
He’d offered to iron my favourite linen trousers when I pulled them out of the wardrobe.
He’d promised to pick up sushi for dinner on his way home.
He’d given Milton an extra treat. He’d kissed me goodbye with extra tenderness.
But none of those things had done anything to assuage the sense of deep unease I felt over what he’d told me about Ava – and more than that, what he’d refused to tell me.
‘Here’s the question on everybody’s lips.’ Jamie had returned with our coffees. ‘Why does Cormac Kennedy want to spend a weekend at the Ritz anyway?’
‘Because he can?’
‘Georgia.’ Jamie sighed theatrically. ‘Do keep up. Not only has Cormac recently finished refurbing a luxury apartment in Primrose Hill – estimated cost two and a half million – but also, rumour has it his much-publicised romance with Taisha Clooney has hit the skids.’
‘Really? But they were going to get married.’
Taisha, an impossibly glamorous model, had been dating Cormac for several months – practically a lifetime in celeb relationship terms. Jasper had intimated that if we played our cards right, Devereaux Partners stood a chance of getting the gig to plan their big day – a prospect that had been giving me sleepless nights before Sam’s revelation about Ava had started giving me nightmares instead.
‘Not according to Gossip Guru on TikTok,’ Jamie said. ‘Rows have been reported. An anonymous “friend” of Taisha’s was reported as saying she broke down in tears in Browfique. A removal van was spotted outside Cormac’s Primrose Hill pad.’
‘Likely moving stuff in rather than moving it out, surely?’
Jamie shrugged. ‘How would I know? I’m just saying, it looks sus. And Gossip Guru doesn’t usually get things wrong.’
I sipped my coffee, wondering if I was off the hook when it came to planning Cormac’s wedding after all, and hoping that my reluctance to get involved in it hadn’t somehow jinxed Taisha’s happiness.
To my surprise, I found that idea making me quite emotional – so much so that a lump came into my throat, and I sniffed loudly.
‘Anyway,’ Jamie continued, ‘speaking of relationships going tits up – or not – what about you? Did you and Sam have that chat?’
I nodded miserably.
‘And?’ Jamie pressed.
‘It’s just so weird.’ I took a shaky breath and tried to make the words come out steadily. ‘He says there’s nothing for me to worry about. But also, he says he’s going to be seeing her more – she’s moving to London in like a week or so – and he won’t tell me why. He won’t tell me anything.’
Jamie frowned. ‘Babe, that is so not cool.’
‘I know. But what can I do?’
‘Remember what I said? You need the nuclear option. Give him a taste of his own medicine. Show him how it feels.’
I cast my mind back to the pep talk he’d given me last week. Then, it had made me feel much better knowing that, hypothetically, there was something I could do by way of damage limitation. Now, though, I couldn’t imagine feeling better ever again.
‘Remind me of the details again?’ I asked. Right now, the nuclear option felt like the only option.
Jamie rolled his eyes. ‘Honestly. I give you great advice and you don’t even listen.’
‘Sorry.’
‘I said, make him jealous. Rattle his cage. Let him think there’s someone you’re seeing too. Remind him he’s not the only fish in the sea.’
Fish didn’t have cages, except maybe farmed salmon. But that felt like a minor obstacle compared to the major ones.
‘I can’t do that. It would be… mean.’
‘And what he’s doing to you is just fine? Okay then, let him crack on and see this Ava whenever he wants. You do you.’
This was hard to argue with. What Sam was doing wasn’t the behaviour of a loving partner – it was kind of mean. Perhaps Jamie was right and I needed to fight fire with fire.
‘Besides,’ I said, ‘I can’t just invent an Ava. He knows almost all my exes are overseas and I’m not in touch with them – not that any of them were serious anyway. Not like him and Ava.’
‘Who said it has to be an ex?’ Jamie’s even, white teeth flashed in a grin that was almost scarily evil.
‘What, you’re saying I should pretend I’m looking for someone new?’
‘Not someone new. Someone existing.’
‘What are you…?’ I looked at him, wide-eyed, so startled I’d forgotten I had been about to cry.
‘I know just the man for the job,’ Jamie said smugly. ‘Me.’