Dominic shook his head, and the smile that spread across his face was positively devilish. ‘No. I’ll take you shopping to find something suitable.’
Something suitable. Faith slumped down into her chair a little.
Why did she suspect that Dominic’s idea of ‘suitable’ would translate into something she’d never usually wear in a million years?
CHAPTER FOUR
‘I’M NOT WEARING THAT.’
Dominic sighed and turned towards his newest employee with his best ‘I’m the boss’ face in place. Faith stared back at him, unaffected.
He hadn’t expected the airport to be a shopping Mecca—he was normally more concerned with finding a quiet spot in the first-class lounge to work when he passed through. Still, he knew that there were plenty of shops, and that people enjoyed taking advantage of them.
Sadly, it hadn’t occurred to him that most of them would be selling holiday apparel, especially at this time of year. Options for professional attire were somewhat limited.
‘It’s a suit, Faith. An inoffensive grey suit. It’s perfectly respectable. What’s wrong with it?’
‘What’s wrong with it?’ Eyebrows raised, she parroted his words back at him. ‘It’s a suit. A perfectly respectable, inoffensive suit. Do I look like the sort of woman who likes to appear respectable and inoffensive?’
‘Well, you don’t look like a Beresford employee yet, if that’s what you mean.’ Hooking the clothes hanger back onto the rail, he smiled apologetically at the shop assistant and followed Faith back out of the shop, into the crowded terminal. A large clock, hanging somewhere overhead like a countdown, told him his clients would be arriving in less than an hour, and Faith still looked like a waitress in a university bar.
‘Look, here’s the deal,’ he said, waiting until she stopped walking and turned to face him before continuing. ‘If you want to work for me, you have to look like a professional, grown-up woman.’
‘As opposed to?’ Faith asked, eyebrows raised.
How to put it... In the end, Dominic decided to err on the side of caution. ‘This is a bigger, more important job. You can’t just look like a tour guide.’
Faith’s mouth tightened, and Dominic prepared himself for an onslaught of objections. But instead, eyes narrowed, she held out a hand. ‘Give me the money.’
‘What?’
She rubbed her fingers together. ‘Hand over the cash you would have spent on that hideous suit. Then go and get yourself a coffee.’
‘And what are you going to do?’ Against his better judgement, Dominic was already pulling the notes from his wallet. It hadn’t been a cheap suit.
‘I’m going to show you that you don’t have to spend a fortune on something that looks the same as what everyone else is wearing to look professional.’ She took the money and tucked it into her bag. ‘I’ll meet you over there in forty-five minutes.’ Then, waving her hand in the direction of a coffee shop, she walked off, leaving him a few hundred pounds lighter, and minus one employee.
Apparently, she’d taken the trust he’d promised her, and run with it.
* * *
If there was one thing Faith knew, it was how to shop for clothes. Growing up, her mother had instilled in her the need to look polished, appropriate and, above all, expensive. In the years when her father had spent most of the estate income on a horse that didn’t come in or a woman who visited far too frequently, wearing something new and fabulous to every occasion could be something of a problem. And once her parents had finally admitted that the money was gone, and Faith said goodbye to her boarding school blazer, trying to fit in at the local secondary school, even in the same polyester skirt as everyone else, had been a whole new challenge.
There, clothes had been the least of her worries. There, she’d been the rich kid with no money, the posh kid who swore like a sailor, the girl who thought she was too good for them, even if she didn’t. There’d been no place for her at all, no little corner to fit in, and the loneliness of it still burned if she thought about it too much. She’d spent lessons daydreaming about being someone else. About leaving home, her parents and her title behind her. Of being Just Faith, instead of Lady Faith.
She’d thought she’d managed it, once she left school and moved to London. Thought she was her own person for once. Except it was so easy to fall in with people who she realised, too late, only wanted her for her title. Women who had closets of spare outfits to dress her up in, dresses and skirts that cost a fortune but barely had the structural integrity to survive a night of dancing and drinking at whatever club they used her name to get into.
They definitely weren’t the sort of clothes Dominic wanted her wearing on this job.
Later, living abroad, alone and with only her seasonal tour earnings to keep her, clothing hadn’t been a priority. She’d been her own person for the first time ever, and she hadn’t had to dress a certain way to prove it. The sense of freedom, of relief, was enough. So she had uniforms for work and a small, flexible, casual wardrobe for the rest of the time.
Dominic had been right about one thing—not that she’d admit it to him—this new job required new clothes.
But she’d be damned if she was spending the next week and a half in one plain, boring suit.
She didn’t have long, so she worked a strike attack formula, identifying the three closest mid-range high street stores most likely to stock the sort of thing she needed. In the first, she picked up two skirts—one grey, one black—and a couple of bright cardigans. In the next, a jacket, three blouses and a lightweight scarf. The last shop took the largest chunk of her money, but in return provided her with a pair of low heels that looked professional, but that she could walk miles in. When she mixed in the plain T-shirts, underwear, bag, dress, make-up and jewellery she’d brought with her from Rome, she thought she was pretty much prepared for anything Lord Dominic Beresford could throw at her that week.
Stepping out of the last shop, laden with bags, she checked her watch. Five minutes left. Just enough time to change.
It was strangely gratifying to walk into the coffee shop and realise that Dominic hadn’t even recognised her. He glanced up when she walked in, but his gaze flicked quickly away from her and back to the clock on the wall. He expected her to be late.
Dumping her bags on an empty chair, she dropped into the seat opposite him and grinned as his eyes widened. This time, he studied her carefully, taking in the jacket and blouse—worn over her white T-shirt to ensure maximum modesty in the cleavage department—and the way she’d pinned her hair back from her face.
She gave him a minute to appreciate the transformation, then said, ‘This works for you?’
Dominic nodded.
‘Great.’ Grabbing his coffee from in front of him, she drained the last inch of caffeine. ‘Then let’s go meet your clients.’
* * *
He had to stop looking at her. What kind of a professional impression did it make if he couldn’t stop staring at his employee? It was just...a transformation. Faith looked respectable, efficient, and yet still utterly herself. And he still didn’t quite understand how she’d managed to make his money stretch to the bags and bags of shopping he’d had to send back to the hotel before they headed to arrivals.
Now, while his driver loaded up their suitcases and Faith’s shopping at the hotel, they were waiting in the arrivals hall for the next flight in from JFK. He could have sent a driver to meet them, Dominic supposed, but Kat had always hammered home the importance of the personal touch. And since she wasn’t here to be personal any longer, that just left him. And Faith.
His gaze slid left again, taking in the way she gripped her fingers tightly in her other hand. Was she nervous? Did Faith really get nervous? It seemed unlikely.
‘They’re a nice bunch,’ he said awkwardly, in an attempt to set her mind at eas
e.
‘I’m sure.’
‘They’ll like you.’
She rolled her eyes at him. ‘Of course they will. Being likeable is part of my job description.’
‘Really?’ Dominic glanced at her again. ‘You don’t seem to be trying that hard with me.’
Faith flapped a hand at him. ‘Don’t lie, you adore me. Besides, you matter less.’
‘I am the boss,’ he reminded her. Just in case she’d forgotten. He was starting to wonder...
‘Yeah. So you’ll be taking care of them in meetings and things, right? I’ll be with them the rest of the time. When they’re having fun. So it’s important they think I’m a fun person to be around. You’ll probably be back in the office by then anyway, so what do you care?’
It should set his mind at ease, Dominic thought, knowing that she wasn’t expecting him to be around all the time, holding her hand through this job. She obviously believed she was capable enough to get on with it alone. And, against the odds, he was starting to believe that too.
So why was he mentally reshuffling his calendar to figure out which evenings he could join them on their tours and outings?
‘You’re right,’ he said, shaking away the uncomfortable thought. ‘As long as you keep them entertained and happy, that’s all that matters.’
‘Good.’ Faith nodded, then sucked in a breath as the words and numbers on the display board changed again. ‘Because they’re here.’
* * *
She was not afraid. She was not afraid. She was not afraid.
She’d done this a million times before. The meet and greet was the most important part, sure—people tended to stick with their first impressions, even when they claimed not to. But she was good at this. Good at smiling and welcoming and helping and making people feel at home.
So why were her hands clammy?
Maybe it was the clothes. Maybe she should have gone with the stupid suit...
‘That’s them,’ Dominic said, and then it was too late to worry about any of it anyway, because they were surging forward into handshakes and smiles and polite greetings. Faith beckoned over the driver who’d met them in the arrivals hall to start collecting bags onto a trolley, glad of something real and useful to do. Something she knew and understood. How could she have thought that looking after a group of high-powered businesspeople in London would be the same as shepherding holidaying Brits around Italy? They were already launching into conversations with Dominic that she couldn’t even begin to follow. The three letter acronyms alone were baffling.
The drive into London, in a spacious limo complete with high-end coffee machine, at least gave her a chance to get her latest charges straight in her head. There was Henry, large and jocular—easy to remember, as long as she kept picturing Henry VIII when she looked at him. Next was Bud, skinnier in the face but a little rotund around the middle. Like a bottle of beer. Perfect.
The first two names fixed, she turned to the next pair. Both in navy suits, both dark-haired, both serious-looking. Thank God one of them wore glasses or she’d be getting them confused all week. Their names, however, were even easier—an improbable ice cream concoction of Ben and Jerry. As long as she remembered that Jerry had the glasses, she was golden.
The last two of Dominic’s clients were easy, too. The blonde woman in the fantastic red suit was Marie, which made Faith think of Marilyn, which made her think of Monroe. And the brunette in the more severe black trouser suit with spectacular heels was Terri, who could just be the one she couldn’t think of a great mnemonic for. Five out of six wasn’t bad.
With everyone straight in her head, Faith settled back in her seat to nurse her espresso, and try to make some sort of sense of the conversation. She followed the discussion about land purchase and architects all right, until they started throwing out figures and referencing forms. She sighed to herself and decided she needed to have attended at least six months of previous meetings to even begin to understand.
‘I’m guessing this is kinda dull for you,’ Ben—no, glasses! Jerry—said, leaning in to whisper close to her ear.
‘Not dull,’ Faith objected. ‘Just...not my area of expertise.’
Jerry’s eyes flashed down to her blouse. ‘And what exactly is that? Dominic didn’t say.’
‘Faith is your tour guide for the week,’ Dominic said sharply, from the other end of the car. Faith looked up in surprise; she hadn’t realised he was paying any attention to her. And how had he even heard Jerry from there?
Suddenly all attention was on her. Plastering on her best social smile, Faith said, ‘That’s right. So if you’ve any thoughts on places you’d like to go, things you’d like to see, just let me know!’
‘Oh, I can think of a couple,’ Jerry murmured, still looking at her breasts. Faith shuffled a little further away, until her leg pressed up against the car door.
Looking up, she saw Dominic glaring at her. He couldn’t have heard Jerry’s latest comment, but surely he had to know this wasn’t her idea?
Or not. Turning his attention back to his clients, Dominic launched into another highly dense and baffling business conversation. Faith listened for a moment until she spotted Marie giving her a sympathetic smile. Then, tuning out the figures and the jargon, she pulled her tablet from her bag and started planning the week ahead.
She might not understand Dominic’s job, but she was damn good at her own, thank you.
* * *
Dominic needed to get out of cars and hotels and into the office. How was he expected to concentrate on the finer details of the outstanding contract when one of his clients was hitting on Faith?
She’d handled it well, professionally even, but he was under no illusions that she wouldn’t let rip if the guy pushed his luck. And quite rightly, too. Perhaps he should have a little word with Jerry...
The Greyfriars Hotel was a hit with his guests, proving Faith’s knowledge of the luxury hotel market spot on. Procuring an extra room for himself wasn’t difficult—although booking the penthouse suite seemed a little excessive even to him, given he had his own apartment just across town. Still, it looked as if it would be a long week. He’d probably need a luxurious space to relax at night.
‘So,’ Faith said as she handed out keycards, ‘I know you’ve got meetings planned this afternoon, but what would you like to do this evening? Sleep off your jet lag, or go out and party?’
Dominic was secretly hoping for the sleeping option, but the Americans all seemed to be up for a party.
Faith clapped her hands together. ‘Great! I’ll make sure to come up with something really special.’
Maybe he didn’t have to go. After all the meetings in Rome, plus this afternoon to get through, he could really use the time in the office. Surely Faith would be okay without him?
But then he saw Jerry sidling up to Faith with his spare keycard in hand.
Stepping closer, he heard her say, ‘Oh, I wouldn’t worry. If you lose it, the hotel can make you another one.’ She pushed the card back into Jerry’s hand, and Dominic gave a mental cheer.
As Jerry stalked off towards his room, not looking particularly beaten, Dominic leant in towards Faith. ‘Count me in for whatever tonight’s activity is.’
She turned to him and scowled. ‘Don’t think I can handle it by myself?’
He grinned. ‘Oh, I’m certain that you can. I just want to watch the show.’
The smile she gave him in return was positively devilish, and he didn’t even try not to watch as she walked towards the lifts, hips swinging.
Maybe he wouldn’t have that word with Jerry. It might be far more satisfying to watch Faith cut him down herself.
He’d just make sure he was on hand in case she needed any assistance.
CHAPTER FIVE
HER HOTEL ROOM was bigger than most of the
apartments she’d lived in since leaving home, but somehow Faith still found herself down in the hotel coffee bar, just off the lobby, as she planned out the week’s entertainment. She told herself it was because the Wi-Fi connection was faster, or because she’d be able to see the clients and Dominic arriving back at the hotel after their meetings. But actually, it was just a whole lot less lonely than sitting upstairs on her own.
She missed Antonio. Well, actually, that wasn’t true. She didn’t miss him exactly. More the idea of him. What she’d thought he was. A future, a family, a proper place in the world. A life that revolved around who she really was, who she wanted to be—not what other people expected of her.
Well, now she’d just have to find her own new place to belong. Wasn’t as if she hadn’t done it before. Maybe, if she did a good enough job, Dominic would take her on full-time, replacing the infamous Katarina on a more long-term basis.
Except that would put her closer to her old life than she was comfortable with. No, better to get the job done then move on. Again.
Faith’s finger hovered over the touch screen of her tablet, ready to type in her search for availability at London tourist hot spots that evening. But instead she found herself typing in the name Dominic Beresford.
She shouldn’t feel guilty about this, she told herself, as page after page of results scrolled up. She was researching a new employer—standard procedure. Dominic would probably have done the same to her, although hopefully using the name Faith Fowler, one she’d made her own on the Continent. The only stories of interest about her were tall tales of the Italian landscape, and reviews of popular tourist destinations. Nothing to alarm him, and absolutely no photos.
There were lots of photos of Dominic, though. Photos of him glowering at the camera, as flashbulbs went off around him. Photos of him with an icy-cool blonde on his arm, almost as tall as he was, perfect pout in place for the paparazzi. That must be Katarina, she supposed.
Lady Katarina Forrester, in fact, according to the caption. Faith didn’t know her, she didn’t think, but that wasn’t hugely surprising. She’d never been particularly enthusiastic about socialising with the aristocratic set—at least, not the respectable ones—whatever her mother’s dreams of her finding a perfect, financially supportive match amongst them. There hadn’t been a space for her there. Her place at boarding school hadn’t been the only thing she lost when the money was gone.
Heiress on the Run (Harlequin Romance) Page 4
