Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
It just feels so terribly sad. When I closed the last chapter of my life, it had been a relief to be over with it and I gladly moved on. But moving on when you don’t want to? When you never thought you’d have to? When you thought you’d found your happy place and want to stay in it forever? It’s far harder than anything I’ve ever done.
“I know things didn’t work out at university. But that was a long time ago now, and this will be different. You’re different.”
I don’t want to think about the last and only time I left Crompton since I came here full-time at seven. The memories just prove what I already know to be true: I belong here, at Crompton.
And if Crompton is where I belong, then I have to take the opportunities Vincent is giving me—the chance to make sure it all happens on time and according to plan. Maybe I’ll even get to influence the way things are done in this new version of my world. Though fear still grips my heart like a vise, a small voice inside is getting harder and harder to ignore. It’s the one whispering that if I can be brave, I might be able to stay connected to Crompton—and make sure it remains the safe haven it’s always been for me.
EIGHTEEN
Vincent
Although I have a desk in the bedroom where Michael and Molly work, I spend most of the day in the makeshift boardroom—another bedroom—which is adjacent to my bedroom. All I need is a laptop and most importantly, my phone.
My phone buzzes and someone knocks on the boardroom door at the same time.
“Come in,” I say, simultaneously accepting the call.
“Hello.” It’s Brad from the New York office on the line. As soon as he replies, Kate walks through the door.
She quite literally takes the breath from my lungs. Her hair is scooped up into a ponytail and she’s wearing makeup—just a little blush and some lip gloss, but I haven’t seen her in makeup before. She catches me off-guard. Not her visit—I’ve been expecting that. But just the way I’m so glad she’s here.
She forces a smile.
“I’ll call you back.” Without waiting for a response, I cancel the call and stand. “Come in. Take a seat.”
She’s wearing a blue blazer, white t-shirt and jeans, and for some reason I picture her on a balcony in the South of France, laughing with sunglasses on, the warm breeze lifting her hair. Me taking pictures of her. I feel a deep sense of peace.
I need to get a grip.
“Do you have a minute?” she asks.
“For you?” I say. “Always.”
She smiles again and it’s a little less forced this time, although I know she thinks I’m bullshitting. But I’m not. I really would give her a minute at just about any time of day. Whenever I see her, she makes me smile and not just because I remember our connection in bed—although that’s hard to forget. But her loyalty, her humor, the way she speaks to me like I’m just Vincent. Not her boss, not a billionaire, not someone whose worth is determined by how many checks he can sign.
She takes a seat around the table, in the chair opposite mine. “Is this from the dining room?” She glances around the table, which looks like it could have been in this house all along. It’s highly polished mahogany and seats about thirty-five people. I probably should have a coaster under my bottle of water.
I don’t take my eyes off her. “I have no idea. Michael set it up.”
“At least you’re honest,” she says.
“I’m always honest.” I want her to know that and feel comforted by it.
“Were you serious about the job you talked about yesterday?” she asks.
“Absolutely. You’d be perfectly suited.” I’m not lying but I definitely have an ulterior motive. The last thing I want to do is make someone—anyone, but especially Kate—feel like I’m taking away their home. She clearly loves Crompton and I want her to love the new Crompton Hotel even more. If she joins the team, hopefully, she’ll grow to love what we’re doing. She’ll own it and love it just as she does the current place.
She narrows her eyes. “You know I don’t have any real qualifications to do anything. I dropped out of university and nothing I learned at A Level is going to help me…assist anyone.”
“You know the estate, you’re great with people, you care about detail. And I know you work hard. Those are the qualifications this role requires. It also helps you’re one of the few people in this world who doesn’t care that I’m…” I falter, unsure how to finish my sentence. “You speak to me like I’m normal.”
“Aren’t you normal?” she asks, then tilts her head as if considering the question. If I’m not mistaken, there may be a hint of a smile at the edges of her mouth.