One Christmas Night In.... Кэрол Мортимер
had instead called her Lelly, which had eventually become Lily. And stuck fast. Thank goodness; Giselle sounded like someone’s elderly aunt. And whilst she might one day become exactly that, at only twenty-six she preferred to stick with Lily! ‘See.’ She fished her passport out of the zip pocket of her bag and held it in front of the other woman’s beautifully straight nose.
Not the most flattering photograph ever taken of her, Lily acknowledged ruefully. Oh, her long and completely straight—and completely natural—platinum-blond hair was tidy enough, but her blue eyes had widened as soon as the flash went off, giving her a slightly startled appearance. As she hadn’t been allowed to smile her face looked slightly woebegone, and her neck appeared almost too slender to support that heavy mane of hair.
‘If you’re about to tell me that I can’t fly to Rome today after all—’ she started, stashing the passport back in the pocket of her shoulder bag, ‘then I think I should first warn you that if anything else goes wrong today I’m likely to start screaming hysterically.’
The other woman’s cool demeanour softened slightly. ‘Tough morning?’
Lily raised her eyes heavenwards. ‘Let’s not even go there.’
The flight attendant’s brisk, businesslike air left her completely as she chuckled softly. ‘Then I’m glad I’m not about to make it any more difficult for you.’
‘You aren’t?’ Now it was Lily’s turn to look uncertain. As well as hopeful.
‘Not at all. Here—let me take that for you.’ The other woman took possession of the handle of Lily’s suitcase before turning to walk away, somehow managing to pull the damaged suitcase smoothly along behind her as she did so. Of course!
‘Hey!’ Lily quickly caught up with the other woman and grasped her by the arm. ‘Where are you going with my case?’
She smiled patiently. ‘I’ll check it in for you, and then take you through to the private lounge.’
Lily looked taken aback, then shook her head. ‘I think there’s been some sort of mistake.’ Although it was hard to believe there could possibly be two women called Giselle Barton—let alone both booked on today’s flight to Rome! ‘I’m booked into an economy seat, which I think entitles me—if I’m lucky—to find a seat in the crowded main departure lounge.’ She smiled ruefully.
The ebony-haired beauty returned that smile. ‘I believe your booking was changed earlier this morning.’
‘Changed?’ Lily eyed her pleadingly. ‘Please don’t tell me I’m now flying to Norway, or somewhere else guaranteed to be even colder than England is right now?’
The flight attendant gave another chuckle. ‘No, you aren’t flying to Norway.’
‘Iceland? Or perhaps Siberia?’ She gave a pained grimace. December had been a particularly cold month in England this year, and although Lily appreciated the temperatures wouldn’t be in the twenties in Rome, it should at least be warmer than snow-covered England.
‘You aren’t flying to either of those two places.’ She grinned openly now. ‘You’re still booked on the flight to Rome due to depart in two hours’ time.’
‘Thank goodness for that!’ Lily frowned. ‘Look, I realise I must seem like a country bumpkin, what with the wonky suitcase and my hot and bothered appearance, but I’m really not in need of special assistance. It’s just the first time that I’ve ever flown—and I’m obviously making a complete mess of organising myself.’
The flight attendant chewed on her bottom lip in an obvious effort to stop herself from laughing again. ‘Which is why I intend checking in for you.’
‘Before taking me to a private lounge?’ Lily repeated slowly.
‘Yes. If you would just like to come this way … ?’
Lily shook her head as she stood her ground. ‘I really think there’s been some sort of a mix-up. I am Giselle Barton, yes. And I’m booked on the flight to Rome. But I have an economy seat—’
‘Not any more,’ the other woman assured her briskly. ‘Count Scarletti called the airline himself this morning and changed your booking to a first class seat, as well as giving instructions that you are to be given every personal care and consideration—before and during the flight.’
Count Scarletti?
Count Dmitri Scarletti?
The same wealthy and influential man, of mixed Russian/Italian ancestry, for whom Felix was currently working in Rome? Well, there couldn’t possibly be two of them, could there? So it must be!
‘I believe there will also be a car waiting to meet you at Leonardo da Vinci airport,’ the flight attendant added enviously.
Felix was supposed to be meeting Lily at Rome airport …
Unless Count Scarletti had needed Felix to remain in his office today, rather than meeting Lily as planned, and this was the other man’s way of making up for that change in their plans?
No doubt Felix would explain everything once she arrived at the apartment he rented in the city …
Lily was feeling slightly dazed from all the ‘care and consideration’ she had received ‘before and during the flight’ by the time she disembarked the plane at Leonardo da Vinci airport several hours later.
Sonia, the original flight attendant, had duly booked in Lily’s suitcase, before escorting her to a completely private lounge set aside for VIPs. Which—upgraded or not—Lily certainly wasn’t!
Once in the lounge she’d been plied with drinks and food by yet more attendants, before being personally escorted onto the plane by one of them only minutes before the flight was due to take off. She’d been shown to her first class seat—with not an overweight businessman in sight!—and then given champagne and canapés until she couldn’t eat or drink any more. The result being that she had dropped off to sleep after her third glass of champagne, and hadn’t woken up again until the plane had landed.
And if she had thought her personal—and, she admitted, slightly embarrassing—service to be over once she was outside, then she was sadly mistaken. As soon as she stepped out into the arrivals terminal she saw her name written on a card being held up by a tall and heavily muscled man dressed in a chauffeur’s uniform—a man who looked more like a bodyguard than a chauffeur!
After introducing himself only as Marco, and ensuring that she was indeed Giselle Barton, he then proceeded to lift her heavy and broken suitcase as if it weighed nothing at all, before carrying it outside to a limousine parked in the ‘No Parking’ zone, leaving Lily with no choice but to follow him.
Her attempts to ask him questions, in a mixture of very bad Italian and English, didn’t go well. Only the mention of Felix’s name and Count Scarletti’s received a terse ‘si’ of response as Marco ensured Lily was comfortably seated in the back of the limousine before slamming the door firmly behind her and moving to place her case in the cavernous boot of the car.
All of this was being watched by several dozen pairs of curious eyes, as people obviously wondered if the woman with the long silver-coloured hair, dressed in faded blue denims and a heavy black jacket, was some sort of celebrity. Obviously a celebrity who bought her clothes from a thrift shop!
By the time Marco slid in behind the wheel of the long black car to drive smoothly away from the kerb and enter the stream of traffic, Lily was flushed with embarrassment, and the glass partition separating the front and the back of the limousine wasn’t conducive to any further attempts to question the chauffeur, either.
Left with no other choice, Lily chose to sit back in her leather seat and enjoy the scenery outside as the car sped towards the centre of Rome; if she was going to wake up from this Cinderella-like transformation any time soon then she might as well enjoy what was left of it!
She had been right about