Let's Just Be Friends by Turner Katy

Author:Turner, Katy [Turner, Katy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Contemporary, Romantic Comedy, Women
ISBN: 9781804058305
Google: VX7ZzwEACAAJ
Amazon: 1804058300
Publisher: JOFFE BOOKS
Published: 2023-06-21T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

Paolo stared at the walls. There was a lot of grey stone and simple whitewash. He’d seen the outside of the castle before, and parts of the estate while working with Hugh. But inside was something else. He’d imagined dark wood panelling, burgundy carpets, a stale air of gloom. Not so. While there were suits of armour, grand tapestries and life-sized paintings of long-dead Glennises, it was lighter than he’d expected. Almost modern.

When Holly had formed a couple with Greg, he’d gone for a stroll. Not wanting to interrupt Chloe, who was getting on well with Angus by the bar, he’d slipped off into the belly of the castle.

So far, he’d found a dining room, its table significantly larger than his whole flat, and a comfy sitting room in which a few of the older residents of Eastercraig were having an evening nap. The enormous kitchen, which looked like it was where the Glennis family usually spent their time, had been a hive of activity, catering staff moving about at twice the pace of normal people.

Coming to the end of a corridor, his bearings gone, Paolo pushed tall, heavy double doors to reveal the most amazing library. Aside from a colossal window, books covered the walls, with a ladder on a rail to get to the ones on the highest shelves. In the centre, two squashy sofas faced each other, with heavy tartan blankets draped over the back.

This was it. He had found his spiritual home.

The ancient leather-bound volumes were calling to him, so he walked over to one of the walls, and ran his fingers over the spines. They were beautiful. He pulled one out, opened it and breathed in the delicious scent of musty paper. At this point, if someone had told him he had died and gone to heaven, he would have believed them.

The door opened, and Paolo spun around to see Hamish. ‘I’m so sorry. I’m sure I’m not supposed to touch any of these,’ he said awkwardly.

He clutched the volume to his chest. Then, afraid he looked like a thief, he replaced it quickly — but carefully — in its rightful place.

‘Oh, you’re welcome. Browse away,’ said Hamish distractedly.

Paolo watched Hamish cross the room and collapse on to one of the sofas, then reach over to a small side table and pour himself a whisky from a crystal decanter. ‘Want one?’

‘Me?’ said Paolo. ‘Sure.’

He sat on the sofa opposite Hamish. For a night of absurd glitter and gaiety, he appeared downcast.

Paolo took the glass. ‘Is something the matter, Hamish? You seem a bit low.’

Hamish groaned. ‘I guess I had a wee argument with Daisy again. I didn’t want to hang out with her glossy friends and do shots. They’re all a bit . . .’ he stopped and waved his hands. ‘Shrieky, and shiny. So I’ve come here to recharge.’

‘You didn’t fancy the dancing?’

‘Och — I’m abysmal. My feet get all tangled up. I’d rather be in a smoking room, chewing the fat.’ He glanced at Paolo.

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