"I’m sorry." She wasn’t, not really. But she wanted to sooth him, not fight him. She was still loose and pleasantly detached, and all she wanted now was to bask in the comfort of their suite, not waste this feeling on another argument.
She moved into the room, not missing the glass of half-finished whiskey, and the fine white dusting around the hotel key card on the table. It was Henry’s usual mix of coke and alcohol, a habit he picked up during the long nights working at BlackRock, before he went independent. It made him sharper, meaner, and restless in ways alcohol alone never could, which explained why he accused her the moment she walked into the room.
"I’ll make it up to you. I promise" she didn’t regret missing lunch, but it was important to her to keep Henry happy with her. The previous day shopping at Harrods, plus the indulgence of staying in a hotel she could never afford on her own, made her appreciate the practical benefits of their relationship. Moving past the bed, she purposely not bothered to adjust her robe that barely held together as she moved, offering him a glimpse of bare thigh, a deep curve of cleave, in a calculated kind of neglect.
"Did you eat anything?" she feigned concern for him as she picked up the room service menu
"we could stay here, in the room, and rest a bit before dinner"
She wasn’t interested in going down to the spa again. She was feeling so perfect right now as it was. Besides, massages were hardly a group activity. No one was expecting to see them there. The real social gathering would be over dinner later this evening, where she would do her very best to make a good impression.
OOC:
considering Henry's background in finance, I figure Coke is more his choice of poison than alcohol, but he does mix them on occasion