Page 49 of Pretty Mess

Celia gestures to me. “Let me show you around.”

I follow her dutifully, my head reeling as she shows me room after room—a modern kitchen, a utility room with shiny appliances, a small bedroom and an en suite shower room, a dressing room that smells of cedar with racks for clothing and a skylight, and a massive bathroom with a stone floor, a shower enclosure that’s big enough to fit four people, and a freestanding bath in the middle of the room. Everywhere is decorated in warm shades of amber and terracotta with pops of blue. The walls are painted white and filled with modern art, and the furniture is simple but classy and obviously hideously expensive.

I can’t believe this is where I’m going to stay. I shake my head. Just how much money does Mac have? I think of lecturing him the other day about wasting his money and my already flushed cheeks get hotter.

“And this is the master bedroom.” Celia’s voice interrupts my thoughts.

I blink. “I thoughtthatwas the main bedroom?” I say, pointing back the way we just came.

“Oh no. That was just a spare.”

I traipse after her into the room. My attention immediately focuses on the bed. It’s massive, with a carved wooden headboard and footboard. It’s made up with pristine white bedlinen, and a blue-and-white patterned throw rests at the foot. It’s piled high with pillows and looks like a cloud. I think of rolling around on it with Mac and feel heat run through me. I hastily look elsewhere in case my thoughts are obvious. Lamps are on either side of the bed with oversized amber shades, and an easy chair upholstered in peacock blue linen is situated by a set of double doors. I walk over and open them to find a small terrace that looks down onto a quieter residential street. A big cocoon chair is suspended in the corner. It’s filled with brightcushions and sways gently in the breeze, and I instantly earmark it as the perfect place to read.

Celia clears her throat, and I look back at her and offer a smile.

“I just have a few more things for you, and then we can leave you alone.”

I hasten to follow her as she walks out. Going to the breakfast bar in the kitchen, she upends the contents of her manila envelope onto the surface. “There are two cards here, but if you do happen to lose one, just give me a ring and we’ll replace the locks.” She points to a sleek phone on a side table. “The number for reception is zero. There is someone on duty twenty-four hours a day. As I mentioned, the basement has a gym, spa, and swimming pool. You don’t have to book the facilities, but if you want spa treatments, someone on the front desk will book you in.” She smiles. “I recommend the head massage. It’s incredible.”

I smile awkwardly back. I’m feeling seriously out of my depth.

She continues as if she hasn’t noticed my awkward silence. “You have a housekeeper. A—” She consults her phone. “—a Mrs Tidewell. She will come in every day during the week. Please set aside your laundry in the bags provided in your dressing room. She will take care of everything. If you need emergency dry cleaning, just ring downstairs and someone will come and pick it up for you.” I have a quick image of an ambulance with its sirens blaring, carrying my dry cleaning away, and then push that aside as she continues talking. “There are menus for the restaurants and takeaways in the area in the kitchen drawer, but Mr Reilly requested we do a food delivery for you once a week. Please tell Mrs Tidewell your preferences and she’ll ensure you have what you need.”

“That was very kind of him,” I say in astonishment, and something in her face echoes my feeling that it’s unusual behaviour for Cormac. But again, she’s too professional to say anything.

She sets everything in a neat pile and then stands back. “I’ll let you get unpacked and settled in, Mr Archer.”

“Wes, please.”

“Wes,” she corrects herself, her smile a little more real this time. “There’s an information pack in the envelope that will give you the lay of the land—where everything is and the nearest tube station. I’ll leave you now, but do ring the desk if you need anything.”

“Thank you.”

She exits the room, and a silence falls before Robert stirs. “Well, I’ll be off too, Wes, if there’s nothing you need.”

I shake my head. “I think Mac thought of everything. Fucking hell,” I breathe, looking around the room. “This must be costing the idiot an absolute fortune,” I say disapprovingly, shaking my head. “How much does a flat cost in this building?” I pause. “Not just a flat. Apenthouse.”

His eyes are twinkling when I turn back to him. “Ah, well, not as much as you think.”

“Why?”

“Mr Reilly owns the building.” He pats my shoulder. “I hope you’ll be happy here, Wes.”

When he leaves, the silence is almost too much, and I wander around opening cupboards and doors. Despite the luxury, I can’t help feeling disappointed that Mac wasn’t here to welcome me. I’d imagined in a tiny corner of my mind him and me laughing and unpacking and being together. I huff. I don’t know what on earth had given me that ridiculous idea. Certainly not Mac’s behaviour so far.

Thinking of him, I take out my phone and pull up his number. I type quickly and send the text before I can second-guess myself.

Guess where I am?

A minute ticks by while I watch my phone. I don’t think he gave it to me for casual conversation, but it amuses me to think of him struggling not to reply. Somehow I know he’s not cross. The message alert sounds, and I nearly drop the phone in my haste to see the message.

At the London Zoo, having a lesson in table etiquette from the baboons?

I snort and tap away.

I don’t think I need that. My bottom isn’t nearly red enough to fit in at the baboon habitat. And I could teach them a thing or two about eating.

Only if it was about dislocating your jaw so you can fit more food in your mouth.