Рецепт свадебного пудинга. Галина Осень
him a smile, this one more confident, more teasing. ‘Does that mean you’re trusting me with your credit card at last?’
He’d have to, he realised. She’d need a method of payment for all the things he’d asked her to do, to set up. Even if it was just having some petty cash to make sure she could buy the Americans a coffee if they needed it.
‘I’ll call the bank in the morning, get you set up with a card linked to my expenses account.’ The bank knew him well, and he certainly gave them enough business to request a favour. They could monitor the activity on that card. ‘In the meantime, I’ll provide you with some petty cash. A thousand should do it.’
‘Right.’ Her eyes were wide, he realised. She hadn’t expected him to actually hand over his money. She had to realise, from the way he’d casually paid for her incredibly expensive last-minute seat in first class, that money wasn’t much of an object to him these days. But it obviously was to her.
As was trust. Interesting.
Dominic had a feeling he had a lot still to learn about his latest employee.
But that could wait until London. ‘And now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got some work I’d like to finish before we land.’
She nodded, silent, and he turned back to his file, enjoying the peace and quiet. Who knew that all he had to do to stop Faith talking was offer her money and trust? If he’d have guessed, he would have tried it hours ago.
* * *
She couldn’t just sit there. Apart from anything else, it was boring. What was in those files that Dominic found so fascinating?
Faith wasn’t a sitting still and waiting kind of girl. She got fidgety.
Besides, the longer she sat there, staring out of the aeroplane window at the night skies, the more she imagined, in detail, every possible way this whole plan could go wrong. It wasn’t a pretty list.
He wanted to get her a credit card. Which meant he’d need her full name. She’d managed to avoid him seeing her passport information, just, but he’d have to have it for the bank. What did she do? If she gave him a fake name, the bank might not authorise the card and she’d have to explain everything anyway. No, the only option was to give him her real name, minus the assorted titles, and hope he didn’t recognise it.
At least Dominic didn’t seem like the sort to spend his mornings reading the society pages, however often he appeared in them.
She needed to know more about him, Faith decided. If she knew who he was, what mattered to him, she might be able to predict his response if he figured out who she was. Would he drag her back to her parents by her hair, as her great-uncle had threatened? Or would he out her to the media, like Antonio had said he would? Or would he let her slip back out of the country, quiet and safe, to carry on living her own life?
If only she could be sure.
Faith sighed and, beside her, Dominic made a small irritated sound. One thing was clear: she wasn’t going to find out all about her new employer by asking him questions when he was trying to work. No, she’d have to do this the modern way—Internet stalking. Surely the airport hotel would have free Wi-Fi?
‘Do you have to think so loudly?’ Dominic asked, reordering his papers again so half of them crept over the edge of the table, almost onto her lap.
‘I’m pretty sure thinking is, by definition, a fairly quiet activity,’ Faith said, shoving the papers back up onto the table.
‘Not the way you do it.’
Right. Well, if she couldn’t talk or think, maybe it was time to go and find something more interesting to do. Somewhere Dominic wasn’t.
‘Okay, let me out.’ She nudged her elbow against his side, and he looked up in surprise.
‘Where are you going?’ he asked.
‘Somewhere I can think without disturbing your hypersensitive hearing.’ Yes, he was difficult and crazy, but he was at least paying for her to get back home. Best not to totally annoy him this early in the game.
Shuffling his papers back into a neat stack, Dominic slid out of his seat, into the wide, wide aisle. God, she’d missed first class.
‘Don’t get into any trouble,’ he said, looking disturbingly like Great-Uncle Nigel.
Faith gave him her most winning, most innocent smile. ‘Me? I never get into trouble.’
And then, leaving him looking utterly unconvinced, she sashayed through towards business class to find some more interesting people to annoy with her questions and her thinking.
* * *
He was being ridiculous. How could it be harder to concentrate without Faith beside him, fidgeting, talking and thinking, than it was when she was there?
But somehow, it was.
Pushing his files across the table, since he clearly wasn’t going to be able to concentrate on them tonight, Dominic leant back in his seat and considered. Where would she have gone? They were on a plane, for heaven’s sake. It wasn’t as if she could have run away. If they’d been sitting in any other area of the aircraft, he’d have suspected her of running off to first class to try and win over the affections of a wealthy businessman.
He glanced around the small section of seats on his side of the curtain. No sign of her. The only other occupants—an elderly gentleman in a suit and a woman with a pashmina wrapped around her, almost covering her face—were both asleep.
Maybe she’d gone back to business class to find a new friend there. Maybe the promise of a job with him wasn’t enough. Maybe she just needed him for the flight home, and now she’d moved onto looking for her next opportunity...
Dominic forced himself to stop that line of thought. Just because certain women behaved that way, taking what they wanted then running, leaving destruction in their path, didn’t mean that Faith would. He should give her the benefit of the doubt. Hadn’t he just told her he trusted her enough to hand over a significant amount of money? Of course, money came easy to him, these days. Reputation was much harder won.
On the other hand, she was his employee. His responsibility.
The only responsible thing to do, really, was go find her.
To Dominic’s surprise, there was no sign of Faith in business class. He got some funny looks as he peered across darkened seats, trying to spot a dark, curly head, but he ignored them. Maybe she’d found a steward or something to talk to? At least she hadn’t been heading the right way to try and bother the pilot...
Pushing through the curtain, business class gave way to economy, where the occasional empty seats ended, replaced by cramped and crowded rows of people. Many were sleeping—it was the middle of the night, after all—but there were more screens and lights on than in either of the other sections. Dominic supposed it was harder to get some shut-eye when you were crammed in like cattle.
Faith must have disappeared into the bathroom, he decided. He just hoped that she was alone—the last thing his reputation needed was an article in the press about him and his employee being banned from an airline for joining the mile-high club. It wouldn’t matter to a reporter that Dominic hadn’t been the man with Faith at the time. Those sort of details never did, he’d found.
But then, as he turned back to try and get some more work done before landing, he spotted her and stopped, just to watch.
She was crouched down at the front of the economy section, just beside the seats with the space for a baby’s bassinet against the wall; he must have walked right past her on his way through. Her dark head was bent over a bundle in her arms, and when she looked up at the parents of the child she was holding, her face glowed. Smiling, she whispered away in rapid Italian, all while tucking in blankets and stroking the baby’s fine, downy hair.
This wasn’t what he’d expected. In fact, this wasn’t even recognisable