Page 18 of Ethan & Grace

“What’s this?” Ethan’s question jolted me out of my thoughts. He was holding up one of the sheets of paper, scanning the printed list.

I snatched it from him, as if I could make him unsee it. “Nothing!”

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me.”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t.”

“So why are you bugging me?”

“Because it’s fun?” he shrugged, making it sound like a question. I wanted to throttle him. I really didn’t need this right now. If Rakesh came back and found me here, it would be Ethan’s fault entirely.

“It’s just a list I’m photocopying for Rakesh,” I lied.

Ethan raised an eyebrow. His piercing gaze made me feel as though he’d seen straight through my lie. “Since when are you his secretary?”

I looked away, gathered the rest of the papers, and jumped to my feet abruptly. “I’m doing him a favour,” I said.

“A favour . . . ?” Ethan echoed.

“Yes. It’s something nice people do, not that you’d know anything about it. Now get out of my way.” I didn’t wait for a response. Pushing past him, I strode off, refusing to look back even as I felt his gaze burning into me. I didn’t slow down until I’d turned the corner. My heart pounded wildly—though whether from the rush of adrenaline or the usual effect of Ethan’s closeness, I couldn’t tell.

7

Can we please finally cancel the Darlingtons? #EatTheRich #BoycottTheDarlington #FuckCapitalism

Online comment from Cloudspirit

Ethan

My eyes followed Grace as she stormed off down the corridor. She was running away from me; there was no other way to look at it. She was probably still embarrassed about having broken down in front of me, though she had no reason to be. Sure, it wasn’t our usual dynamic. But she had been through something traumatic. No one expected her to bounce right back. Not even I was that heartless.

Besides, there were far worse things than holding Grace in my arms.

I pushed away the memory of how she had pressed herself against me as I continued on my way to Henry’s office. When I passed Rakesh, mug in hand, I frowned. Hadn’t he just been in his office with Grace? She’d claimed he’d asked her to photocopy something for him. But . . . hold on! There were photocopiers in every office. Or was I mistaken? No, I was pretty sure.

I stopped short. “Rakesh?”

He paused, forcing a stiff smile. The hotel manager and I had a strained relationship. My return to The Darlington had caused him some serious headaches, and the past few weeks of good behaviour clearly hadn’t made up for that yet. “Yes?”

“Do you sometimes ask Grace to do errands for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Sending messages. Photocopying. That kind of thing.”

“No. Why?”

“No reason,” I said evasively. “Have a nice day.”

“Thanks. You too,” Rakesh replied, clearly baffled by our exchange.

Instead of answering the questions written all over his face, I walked on, trying to make sense of what had just happened. What had Grace been doing in Rakesh’s office? Why had she lied to me? And what was the deal with the list she’d had on her? I’d only caught a fleeting glimpse before she’d snatched it from me as if her life depended on it—or at the very least, as if her job did.

Interesting.

I reached Henry’s office and knocked on the door. There was no response at first, then a delayed “Come in!” I pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped into the office that had once belonged to our grandfather. It had barely changed—solid wooden bookcases still lined the walls, an old sofa stood in the corner, and right in the middle of the room was an imposing desk, behind which Henry sat talking on the phone.