Page 9 of Highland Getaway
‘Your email addresses are almost the same,’ she says, looking as terrified as I feel right now. ‘Except yours starts with “rosie.w” and hers starts with “rosie.s”. I think I .?.?. I must have sent it to the wrong Rosie.’
There’s a tense silence, during which I realise I’m starting to feel a bit woozy, although whether it’s from the fact that I just fell asleep in a sauna or the sheer terror of facing Sabrina Bates in a bad mood, I’m not quite sure.
Given the choice, I think I’d rather face the sauna, though. At least it only had the potential to almost kill me, as opposed to completely humiliating me, like Sabrina so clearly wants to.
‘The S and the Warevery close to each other on the keyboard,’ says Zara Harris, looking at her own phone as if it’s a crucial piece of evidence in a trial. ‘The W’s right above the S. It would be a pretty easy mistake to make.’
‘Exactly,’ says Luna, looking relieved.
‘Very true,’ I add, just a beat too late.
I smile hopefully around the room, even though I can tell by the look on Sabrina’s face that there isn’t much point in trying to win anyone over here; I’m about to be sent home in disgrace. That’s if I don’t faint first, from this weird, light-headed feeling.
I can’t believe I convinced myself I’d get away with this. How on earth could I have been so stupid?
‘How could you be so stupid?’ snaps Sabrina, echoing my thoughts so perfectly that I think she’s talking to me, until I catch sight of Luna’s pale face, and realise she’s feeling even worse than I am about all of this. ‘Youknowhow important this launch is, Luna,’ Sabrina goes on. ‘It has to beperfect. We can’t afford to mess this up. God! I can’t believe you’ve done this.’
‘That’s enough,’ says Hunter Stuart, speaking softly but firmly. ‘We don’t speak to people like that here.’
Beside him, Stevie gets silently to his feet, looking even more wolf-like in this Gothic horror show of a setting. I really want to applaud them both – or give a small cheer at the very least – but the memory of Hunter walking in on me in the sauna is still so painful that I can’t even bring myself to look at the man, let alone do something that might make him look atme.
(Also, I’m so light-headed after my lengthy stint in there that I’m afraid to move my head in case I faint. So there’s that, too.)
‘And who might you be?’ Sabrina says haughtily, looking him up and down as he stands there in his muddy work boots and worn-out jeans, looking almost as out of place as I do, and yet still somehow completely at ease.
‘Oh, I’m nobody,’ Hunter says easily. ‘But I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say you’re being unfair to them both. It sounds like it was an honest mistake.’
OK, now Idowant to look at him, so I can show him how grateful I am for this defence that I absolutely do not deserve. But he’s too busy watching Sabrina to return my glance.
‘It was,’ says Luna, with a tremulous smile in Hunter’s direction. ‘It really was, Sabrina, I promise. Summers, Winter .?.?. Like Zara said, it’s an easy mistake to make. Don’t you think?’
Sabrina looks like she really wants to disagree with this, but Hunter shifts on the spot, as if to remind her of his presence, and she closes her mouth again.
‘OK,’ she says, with a theatrical sigh. ‘Luna . . . I mean,weinvited the wrong Rosie. So now we just have to invite therightRosie. Yes?’
‘Um, no,’ says Luna in a whisper. She holds up her phone. ‘I just checked her Instagram,’ she goes on. ‘Rosie Summers is at another spa hotel. In Iceland. Apparently she’s landed some big campaign for WanderNest – you know, the hotel chain?’
There’s an audible intake of breath at this piece of news. Dante in particular looks like he’s about to explode at the sheer audacity of someone deciding to visit a hotel that isn’t his. For a moment, I almost forget I’m the cause of all this drama, then I happen to catch Hunter’s eye in the mirror, only for him to swiftly look away again, casually reminding me of my ongoing humiliation.
‘Wait!’ says Luna frantically, with the air of someone about to save the day. ‘I was just thinking, Sabrina. Maybe it’s agoodthing that we have the wrong Rosie.’
Sabrina’s lip curls in derision. To be honest, I’m not exactly loving the title ‘Wrong Rosie’ myself, but it’s better than the many alternatives I can see lined up on Sabrina’s lips, so I let it go.
‘No, seriously,’ Luna’s saying now, her eyes lit up with an almost religious fervour as she fights for her job – and possibly her life, if Sabrina Bates really is as fearsome as she seems. ‘Think about it. We don’t have anaveragegirl yet, do we? And people love seeing an average girl in these campaigns. It reassures them that they could do all the things they see the influencer doing, too. So, maybe Rosie could be our Ms Average?’
‘Hold on a second,’ I interject, not sure I like the sound of this any more than I liked the Wrong Rosie thing. But Sabrina’s nodding again, her teeth bared in what she presumably thinks a smile looks like. ‘People do likeaverage, for some reason,’ she says, pronouncing the word as if it’s an ancient enemy she’s been locked in a feud with for decades. ‘I suppose it could work.’
‘You can’t be serious?’ says Bex Foster, who’s wearing a long black evening gown that makes her look like the star of a film noir. ‘You’re not paying this . . . impostor person .?.?. the same as you’re paying us, are you?’
Wait: they’re all gettingpaidfor this? To stay in a luxury – albeit possibly haunted – hotel forfree?
Wow.
There was definitely nothing in the email I was sent about getting paid; a thought which seems to occur to Sabrina at the same time as it does to me.
‘We do need five influencers for the competition,’ she says thoughtfully. ‘And we’ve kind of maxed-out the budget already, now that we have Mr Bex here on board. Oh, it’s not a problem,’ she adds gushingly, turning to the Fosters. ‘You know we’re absolutelythrilledto have you both here. But because Bex and Daniel share an account, they can only really count as one influencer,’ she goes on, speaking almost to herself now. ‘So I suppose it would be helpful to have a fifth person who wasn’t going to cost much.’
Beside me, Hunter shuffles his feet against the tiled floor. ‘That hardly seems fair,’ he points out mildly. ‘If you’re paying everyone else, you should surely be paying Rosie, too?’
