Love Me Or Leave Me. Claudia Carroll
Loving and warm. The exact polar opposite to what’s received wisdom within the industry about the mighty Rob McFayden.
Wonders will never cease. Got to hand it to whoever this particular girlfriend is. If you can keep an alpha male like this in check, then world domination probably wouldn’t present too much of a challenge afterwards.
Jeez, wait till I tell Chris, is my immediate, tacked-on thought.
‘Alright, say I pick you up on Saturday, usual time?’ Rob asks softly, like he doesn’t want me to hear. But even though I’m madly trying my best to pretend that there’s urgent business under the shelves behind the reception desk that needs my attention, it’s just impossible not to.
‘Alright, love,’ he says, finally wrapping it up. ‘That’s a date. Till then. Yes, me too, you know that.’
Eeugh. Overhearing that almost feels like I’m invading his personal space. But he appears to have no such qualms though, just clicks off the phone and strides over to where I’m standing, hand outstretched.
‘Apologies about that. Had to take that call, you understand,’ he says, meeting my gaze with all the cool confidence of someone just off the phone to their stockbroker.
‘Of course, emm … Mr McFayden,’ I smile back, brightly as I can, hoping against hope that I’m not flushing and sweating like a wino.
‘I told you, it’s Rob.’
‘Sorry, Rob. I have to warn you though, we weren’t expecting you to be in Dublin so soon. And as you can see, we still have a few snags we’re sorting out right now.’
No sooner are the words out of my mouth than a power drill goes off in the background, which I practically have to shout to be heard over.
‘But you know we’re pretty much on schedule,’ I half yell at him over the racket, ‘I mean … obviously … give or take just a few last minute odds and ends round the place. Rest assured though, I’m pretty confident that we’ll be ready in plenty of time …’
‘Chloe?’ Rob interrupts, as the din from the power drill dies down.
‘Yes?’
‘You’re starting to sound nervous. Should I be worried?’
‘Oh, well, you know!’ I say in a voice that’s approximately half an octave higher than normal. ‘We’re just all a bit pressured round here today, what with builders and everything … and of course, if we’d known you were coming, then it goes without saying we’d have been …’
‘You think I haven’t seen the inside of a hotel that’s overrun with builders before?’
‘No, course not, I just meant that … well, we are two weeks from opening and I’d hate you to think we weren’t going to be ready in time, because you know, we’re all completely confident …’
‘Well, then. In that case, it seems my reputation as a complete bastard has gone before me,’ Rob says dryly, mouth twitching down at the corners. ‘I’m not here to fire hard-working staff because you’re all working flat out on last minute snags.’
Okay, there is just no fecking response to that. So I just stand there, casting around wildly for some change of subject.
‘Well, you’ll be delighted to know I can’t even stay for long, actually,’ he says with a half-smile, like he’s actually enjoying my discomfort. ‘I’m actually en route back to London.’
‘Oh?’ I ask stupidly. ‘You mean, you’re not going to be around here for a few days, at least …?’
‘Not this time, I’m afraid. I’ve been in Milan since yesterday you see, and just happened to have a chink of time between flight connections today, so I arranged to catch my flight back to London from here. I wanted to see for myself just how the place is shaping up.’
‘Well … in that case, let me give you the full tour.’
‘Lead the way.’
You’re in control here, Chloe, don’t forget that, I tell myself firmly. And yes, so maybe this is a work-in-progress and maybe there’s a pile of tweaks and snags that we’re still working through. Like the coffee tables we ordered still haven’t arrived for the drawing room yet. Plus the fact that the plumbers are still working on the bathroom fittings, in at least three of the en-suites upstairs. And the electricians, who still haven’t quite finished yet, have left so many wires and cross cables strewn across the floor of the dining room, it looks like someone spilt ten plates of spaghetti in there.
I could go on and on, but come on, it’s a brand new hotel and we don’t even open for another two weeks yet! Surely even as notorious a perfectionist as Rob McFayden has to make allowances here? It will all come together in time. Because it just has to. It’s a good, sobering thought, and the more I keep telling myself that, the more I actually believe it.
Wordlessly, like he’s on a very tight schedule, he strides a few paces ahead of me as we make our way from the elegant hallway where Reception is, to the lounge area just on the left. It’s an old drawing room that our interior design team have worked wonders on. They’ve completely converted it from a slightly cold and forbidding Georgian reception room into a relaxed, warm and welcoming space, with a huge open fireplace, bookcases stuffed with leather-bound books and a stunning Louise Kennedy chandelier that never fails to take my breath away. The furniture is fabulous too, sofas covered in gorgeous lavender damask fabric, long cream silk cushions and curtains to match and tastefully chosen paintings dotting the walls. The designers really have thought of everything; even the fabrics have been carefully covered in protective plastic, till the builders finally leave us in peace.
The Lavender Room, as we’ve taken to calling it and I’m bloody proud of what we’ve done here; it’s elegant and graceful, yet so comfortable and inviting too; the kind of place designed to chill out in. Just perfect for the clientele we’re hoping to attract. An awful lot of work went into it, but instead of having a good, thorough nose around, Rob just strides around the perimeter, checks the view from the window, plonks down on one of the sofas, as though testing it for squidginess, and then is straight back up on his feet again. Like he’s seen all he wants to and is anxious to move on. Fast.
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