Рецепт свадебного пудинга. Галина Осень
room, three years ago. That was a big one.
But right now, she’d settle for a ride back to London, a hotel room for the week, meals and drinks included, and maybe a small salary at the end of the job. Enough to tide her over until she found her next gig. It wouldn’t take long; she was good at her job, she enjoyed it, and people liked her. That was important in the events and tourism industry.
‘Thank you for your assistance,’ Dominic said, and put down his phone. Faith looked up with a bright smile. Okay, she didn’t really know who this guy was, or what business he was in, but he could afford seven rooms at the Greyfriars, so he could get her out of Rome without having to call her family, which was the most important thing.
‘Let me tell you a little bit more about what I need,’ he said, and Faith nodded, her best attentive face on. ‘My name is Lord Dominic Beresford, and I run a number of businesses from my family’s estates.’ Faith’s stomach clenched at the name. Of course he looked familiar. She’d probably seen him on the society pages a dozen times when she lived in London, usually next to photos of her mother looking tipsy behind her fake smile, or her father charming another man’s wife. Or even of Faith herself, leaving the current London hotspot on the arm of someone very unsuitable. Lord Beresford, on the other hand, was always immaculately dressed and frowning.
‘I have six American businessmen and -women arriving in London tomorrow morning,’ Dominic went on, oblivious to the way her stomach was rolling. ‘I need you to meet and greet them, plan entertainment for the hours they’re not going to be in meetings, and accompany them on tours, the theatre, whatever you come up with.’ He gave her a sharp look. ‘Can you do it?’
Spend a week in the company of a man who could at any moment realise exactly who she was and expose her, all while avoiding anyone she knew in London, and working at the same time?
‘Of course I can.’
Dominic nodded. ‘Then we’ll talk salary on the plane. Finish your drink; we’ll go get you a ticket. But first...’ He picked up his phone again, tapped a speed-dial number, and waited.
Was that crying Faith could hear in the background?
‘Shelley?’ Dominic said, almost shouting to be heard. ‘Don’t worry. I’ve fixed it.’
CHAPTER TWO
HE’D ASKED THE wrong question, Dominic realised, later that evening. He shouldn’t have asked Faith if she could do the job. He should have asked her if she knew how to be quiet.
The answer was now startlingly obvious: no.
She’d chattered through the ticket line. All through security. Yammered on in the first-class lounge. And kept talking all the way to the gate and onto the plane.
And now they were cruising at thirty-two thousand feet, the cabin lights were dimmed, and she was still asking questions.
‘Have you taken clients on the London Eye before? What about up the Shard? I haven’t done that yet, but I’ve read reports...’
Grabbing another file from his briefcase, in the vain hope that the growing stack of them on the table in front of him might suddenly make her realise he was trying to work here, Dominic tried to tune out the chatter from the seat beside him. It wasn’t as if she took a breath long enough for him to answer anyway.
Why did she have to sit next to him? First class was practically empty. There were plenty of places for her to stretch out, watch a movie, sleep. Not talk.
‘Do you know if they’re theatre buffs? I can do some research on what’s the hottest show in town when we land. Or maybe the opera?’
Of course, there were plenty of other questions he should have asked, too. Like why she was so eager to come work for a total stranger for over a week. Did she need to get out of Rome? Or was she just homesick? Jobless? He should have asked for credentials, for references, for anything that proved who she was. He hadn’t even managed a glimpse of her passport as she handed it over to the ticket clerk.
It wasn’t like him to be so impulsive. Yes, he’d been in a corner and needed a quick fix. And okay, he’d wanted to prove to Shelley and Kevin that he could manage quite well without them, thank you. He was still the boss, after all.
But if he was honest with himself, he knew the real reason he’d hired Faith was because of her attitude. It took guts to walk up to a stranger in an airport and tell them to give you a job. Guts and desperation, probably. But if she had a reason for needing this job, she hadn’t let on. She’d focused entirely on what she could do for him, and it had worked.
Coupled with her curvaceous, striking appearance, that courage and determination meant she’d probably go far, in whatever she decided to do—if her blunt, frank manner didn’t get her into trouble first. She was the exact opposite of anything he’d look for in a woman normally, but Faith wasn’t a woman. Not to him, anyway. She was an employee, and that was a completely different thing.
Of course, she wasn’t exactly like his other employees, either. Shelley, outspoken as she could be now, hadn’t started that way. For the first year she hadn’t questioned anything, hadn’t complained, hadn’t offered an opinion. And she’d still never be seen dead in a skirt as tight as Faith’s. No, Shelley was beige suits and pastel blouses, where Faith was red lipstick and high heels.
Dominic didn’t even waste time on a mental comparison between Faith and Kevin.
‘And, uh, actually...I should have asked...’
Good grief, was there a question she hadn’t blurted out already?
With a sigh, Dominic looked up at her, only to find her plump lower lip caught between white teeth, and an uncertainty in her eyes for the first time since they met.
‘Yes?’ he asked, surprised by her sudden change in demeanour.
‘Will you want me to stay at the hotel with your guests?’
He blinked. ‘Well, yes. That would be easiest.’ He’d need to get an extra room, he realised. Efficient as she seemed to be, he could hardly leave his most important clients with a stranger for the next week. No, he’d need to stay there too, that much was obvious. But if Faith was staying in the hotel, at least he could delegate their more mundane requirements to her. ‘Unless you have a pressing need to stay somewhere else?’
‘No, no, it’s not that.’ She gave him a smile, an understated, nothing to worry about here smile. One he didn’t entirely trust. His mother had smiled like that, in the weeks before she left. ‘It’s just that I’ve been living in Rome for the last year and a half. I don’t actually have anywhere to stay in London.’
It was only when the muscles in his shoulders relaxed that Dominic realised they’d tensed at all. Of course she didn’t have anywhere to stay. That made perfect sense.
It didn’t entirely explain why she’d been so eager to leave Rome on a moment’s notice, with only a pull-along suitcase for company, but Dominic was sure he could persuade her to tell him that story, in time. He was a very persuasive man when he put his mind to it. And he really wanted to know what Faith was running away from. Just in case it was something he needed to defend his reputation against.
‘You’ll have a room at the hotel,’ he promised, before realising something else. ‘But we’ll need to see if we can get one for tonight, too.’
Faith glanced down at her watch, and he knew what she was thinking. By the time they got into London it would be the early hours. Anyone checking in last minute to a hotel at that kind of time wasn’t usually there on business. Not the legitimate sort, anyway.
‘Maybe it would be best if I checked into one of the airport hotels?’ she suggested. ‘That way, I’ll be on hand ready to meet your clients there in the morning.’
It made perfect sense. And suddenly Dominic couldn’t face the drive into London, all the way to his penthouse apartment, just in time to wake up and pack