The Bridgerton Eight

Tedious Emotions Of A Lover's Quarrel

Wednesday—November 25th, 2020

There was nothing Daphne wanted less than to ask her ex-boyfriend for help. It was degrading and humiliating and sexist—aaaaaaand it was also her only choice if she didn't want to get her family involved in her problems. Her business was plummeting and she needed cash. Fast. Not only she had found someone who could help her promote Daffiness with an Instagram page that would reach thousands of people, she had also made a huge deposit on the perfect store in Gilbert Street where she could open an actual place for people to shop and try on her clothes. The deposit was only that—she still needed to actually buy the place. And the girl from Instagram had a pricey fee as well.

It wasn't a crazy request, she kept telling herself as she headed to Global Hastings to meet with Eric. It wasn't like he couldn't afford to spare what she needed. And she believed wholeheartedly that she would be able to pay him back in no time. With interest. She believed in what she did and in what she had. She knew she was capable of turning Daffiness into something gigantic. She needed someone else to believe in herself as well.

And why not Eric? He used to always tell Daphne she was talented, that she was destined for greatness. That might've been pillowtalk at times, but surely he wouldn't have fed her ego that much if he thought her idea so worthless. The end of their relationship had been a sad one, but they hadn't parted ways in such bad terms. It wasn't like they hated each other. They just had an unspoken understanding to avoid each other whenever possible, as one does with their exes. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

She decided to purchase the Financial Times. It was by far the best accessory a girl in the business world could have. It had a nice color, it only cost eighty-five cents and if you walked into a room with it tucked under your arm, people took you seriously. With an FT under your arm, she could talk about the most frivolous things in the world, and instead of thinking she was an airhead, people thought she was a heavyweight intellectual who had broader interests, too.

She stopped when she caught her reflection in the window of Global Hastings. She looked good. She felt proud. She was wearing a black skirt from French Connection, a white silky blouse from Knickerbox, and a black angora cardigan which she had made herself but looked like it might be Agnès b. And her new square-toed shoes from Hobbs. Even better, although no one could see them, she knew that underneath she was wearing her gorgeous new matching underwear with embroidered yellow rosebuds. They were the best bit of her entire outfit. In fact, Daphne almost wished she could be run over so that the world would see them.

It would be fine. She would go in, talk to Eric and walk out of there with the means to invest in her future. And if not... Well, worst case scenario, he would just say no. That was it. No need to worry.

Nothing worse could happen.

Nothing at all.

*

As Simon walked quietly through the halls of Global Hastings, it occurred to him that he was in a singularly good mood. This, he thought with a chuckle, was truly remarkable, considering the fact that he was taking over a company he couldn't care less about. But as he went by, people stared like he was a god descended from heaven. That had to boost anyone's mood.

He supposed he was pleased to be in charge of Global Hastings after all. He'd never thought he'd get to do it. Hell, he had never wanted it. But he liked having it all the same.

Their mutual hatred aside, Simon had always known his father would leave the company for him. It was just one of those things his father would do to stop people from knowing they didn't get along. It was just like when Simon had gotten into Harvard and his father came to see him, finally willing to accept his son. He had offered Simon a position in the company and said he was ready to put the past behind them.