Page 59 of The Invitation

“Please, call me Amelia. Do you ever have time off?”

“A weekend here and there.” She smiles, giving Stan instructions to deliver my bag to the Windsor Suite. A suite? Does that mean my luxury spa day includes an overnight stay?

“Should I check in?” I ask, motioning to the lady behind the white desk.

“I’m looking after you today,” Anouska says. “Let’s talk treatments. What shall I book you in for? A massage?”

“Definitely,” I say, rolling my shoulders, feeling the tension there as she hands me a leather-bound folder. I flip it open and scan the list of treatments available, but the truth is, I’m not absorbing any of the information, my nerves accelerating.

Anouska must see my struggle. “Maybe a manicure and pedicure too?”

“Yes, that,” I say, snapping the folder shut. I look around, wondering where Jude is. But I don’t want to ask. Anouska must know why I’m here. Right?

“Well, it’s lovely to welcome you back to Arlington Hall.”

“Anouska, do you know why I’m here?”

“You’re Mr. Harrison’s guest.”

I nod, assessing her disposition. “Does he have manyguests?” The question falls out without warning, and she smiles.

“Let me show you to your room.”

No answer.

And isn’t that an answer in itself?

“Please, this way,” she says, motioning to the stairs, but she barely makes it to the bottom step before she stops, turning at the sound of someone calling her name. I catch Anouska’s profile, definitely seeing her lips purse in displeasure. “Katherine,” she grates, smiling. It’s forced. I follow Anouska’s eyes and find a black-haired woman in workout clothes, her face damp. Even sweaty and red in the face, she’s obviously very attractive, her legs long and willowy, her stomach taut, not a ripple or crease in sight.

“Where’s Jude?” she asks.

“Otherwise engaged,” Anouska replies, clipped. “Can I help?”

The woman, Katherine, spies me hovering nearby and smiles before returning her attention to Anouska. “Just tell him I’m looking for him. He’s not answering his phone.”

“Will do.” Anouska starts to climb the stairs, and I follow, looking back over my shoulder as Katherine walks through the doors toward the spa.Damn, who was that?

I follow the curve of the rail to the top, and we cross a circular landing, my feet sinking into the sumptuous carpet, the pattern a swirl of creams and beiges. And still spotless. I have the urge to remove my shoes. We pass a dozen gloss-white ornate doors, until Anouska stops at some double doors. She taps the card on the reader on the wall and turns the gold knob. “Here we are,” she says, smiling as she opens the way.

I wander in, gazing around, floored. It’s bigger than Abbie’s apartment. Probably even my parents’ home. A lounge, a dining area, a workspace, all dressed beautifully in creams and matte gold.

“Am I moving in?” I ask on an uneasy laugh, following my feet to a door that leads to the bedroom. A dressing room, a bathroom.

“Mr. Harrison requested the best suite for you.”

“But it’s a bit wasted if I’m going to be in the spa all day.”

Anouska smiles. “Make yourself comfortable, Amelia. Your first treatment is in half an hour. You know where to go, right?”

“I know,” I say as she leaves me. I see my bag on the giant bed and go to it, pulling out my dress and hanging it on one of the gold hangers in the dressing room. My one dress has a whole room to itself. I fetch my shoes and set them on the cream carpet.

Chew my lip.

Glance around.

I open a wardrobe and find a supersoft white robe, the Arlington Hall crest embroidered on one breast. I pad to the drinks cabinet by the dining table and open the fridge. Endless bottles of Veuve Clicquot greet me. A champagne fridge. The next fridge holds an array of miniatures and mixers. The next is full of soft drinks and water. Various ornate glasses decorate the surface of the cabinet. I pluck the lid off the ice bucket. It’s full. Even the ice is perfectly formed, the cubes sharp and clear.

I hear my phone ringing from my bag and walk across to the couch, finding it. It’s the first time his name’s appeared on my screen now I’ve saved his number. My nerves rocket as I answer and lower to the couch. “Hi.”

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