Kate

Chapter 1 (Continued)

Oliver scowls, and I laugh before looking back at the friendly man. I know – as always – that his discontent isn't with me. After all, he's the one who suggested this faux fairy tale.

'You know what I like,' Oliver mutters, deflecting the conversation back to alcohol. He's practically pouting as he turns to survey the vaulted room.

The bartender is in front of me now, and I give him a small smile. 'One Martini and a gin sour please,' I say, holding my card out.

He nods, grabbing hold of the spirits from the marble shelf as I nudge my arm against Oliver's shoulder.

'Turning away doesn't make the cute guy disappear,' I whisper, unable to resist the urge to tease him.

His jaw tenses, and I bite my lip, grimacing. Maybe I went too far?

'I'm sorry,' I add.

Oliver sighs, placing his empty glass behind me. 'It's alright. You're a good fake date.'

'Thanks,' I scoff, collecting our drinks and my card from the bartender. 'I'm charmed.'

Oliver smirks, raising a brow in thanks to the bartender before taking a big swig of his Martini – something he's grown fond of these past few years. In contrast, I sip my gin sour, relishing in the burn before following his gaze towards the party. This year, purple is the colour theme for the night, banners swaying between chandeliers, tables covered in thick cloth, lilac roses at the centre of every table, the staff's waistcoats a similar shade.

A high-pitched squeal comes from beside us. 'Katherine! Oliver!'

Oliver's hand is on my back, rubbing a soothing figure of eight as he grins, encouraging me to face his eccentric mother.

'Ulrica.' I smile at the blonde woman.

She beams in response, quickly grabbing my fingers with her gloved hand.

'You two look lovely tonight,' Ulrica exclaims.

Mutely, I nod. Oliver's hand stiffens on my back.

'Such a beautiful couple.'

'Thank you,' I force out as Oliver nods.

'I mean it! I had no idea your friendship would ever evolve into something more. And without my intervention...' She laughs – her usual high-pitched trill – and tears her hand away to clap, drawing attention to us – parading Oliver and I into the limelight.

I'm hardly listening to Oliver's mum as I take another sip. I'm too tired for this. It's been a long, albeit relatively fun, summer, but last night I barely slept, and the nightmare that woke me is at the forefront of my mind – a cocky group of suited men throwing off their 'designer' coats and diving towards me, tearing the jewellery from my neck and wrenching my bag from my hands as I scream, begging them to stop. It's been the same for years.

Involuntarily, I shiver. Pull it together, Kate.

Ulrica's turned her attention to her son, asking if he's spoken to his dad this evening, and I quickly finish my drink.

'I'm feeling ever so tired,' I pipe up, shooting an apologetic smile at both of them. 'I must excuse myself.'

'Of course, dear.' Ulrica smiles, reaching over and caringly squeezing my arm. 'It's been lovely watching the two of you at the retreat this year.'

'I'll walk you out,' Oliver says, concern in his eyes.

I agree, and Oliver and I make our way across the large room towards the exit, his hand still on the small of my back.

Mum is going to lose her mind when she realises I've left early, but right now, I don't care. All I want to do is relax in the huge, free-standing bathtub at home.

We move into the black-carpeted corridor and soon leave the grand hotel, stepping onto the winding gravel driveway. The sky is pitch-black, but wrought-iron streetlights beam overhead.

'Are you okay?' Oliver asks, pulling me to a stop.

Looking up at him, I smile. 'Honestly, I'm just tired.' I gesture behind us.

Oliver frowns. 'Have you been having nightmares again?'

I shake my head and lie. 'It's been a long summer inside this hotel.' I let my eyes trail up the five-storey, red-brick building.

Oliver hums before clasping my hand with his own. 'Don't lie to me.'

'I'm fine, Oliver. It was five years ago.' Something so small shouldn't still be haunting me.

Oliver purses his lips. 'I heard Florence when she brought it up three nights ago, K.'

I grit my teeth. One of the many reminders I've tried to forget about.

Smiling, I shake my head again. 'I used to love the retreat, but every year it feels longer and longer.'

Oliver frowns, clearly unhappy with the change in subject, but eventually gives in, his shoulders dropping as he says, 'I definitely need a break... Head somewhere I can be myself.'

I nod, stepping closer and resting my forehead against his cheek. 'I'll continue to be your girlfriend as long as you want.' I pause. 'But you're going to have to tell your parents eventually.'

'That's where you're wrong,' he retorts, a teasing smirk on his lips as he pulls away. 'Mum is expecting me back inside... Are you sure you're okay?'

'I will be as soon as I'm lying in my own bed,' I promise, already daydreaming about the thick, plush sheets I've been craving for weeks.

'Good.' Oliver smiles, leaning down and pulling me into a tight hug. 'I love you, K.'

'I love you too,' I tell him. 'Message me?'

'Always,' he promises, shoving his hands into his pockets.

I give him a mock salute, then turn, my gaze scanning the horde of cars that are lined up, waiting for their rich occupants to decide the retreat is done.

I'm so glad I asked Ian, my driver, to pick me up now rather than tomorrow morning. The concierge will have given him my two hefty suitcases when he arrived, and now I can leave this hotel behind for another year. The retreat is a long time away from home, every member of London's high society expected to attend for six weeks, celebrating the summer as one unit, allowing us to bond, to make alliances. And despite us living only a couple of miles away, Mum's always insisted that we stay with eighty percent of the others in the hotel due to an irrational fear of missing out, but now, finally, there's no more sleeping in a bed that isn't my own. Not for a while anyway.

It's time to go home.

Eventually, I spot the familiar number plate of my burgundy car, stepping towards it with renewed determination.

As I approach, the driver's door opens, and a smile spreads across my face in anticipation of seeing Ian. He's lovely, a man who's been in my family's employ my entire life.

Except... tonight the man standing in front of me isn't Ian.

I stop walking, the blood draining from my face.

It's Leo.