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‘Are you inviting me?’ she asked him with suppressed excitement.
It was hardly fair of him to do so. His guests were hard-driven business professionals who would eat her alive.
‘Are you?’ she pressed.
‘I’m not sure,’ he admitted honestly.
‘Why not?’ she exclaimed.
‘Because it might be said that every party needs a novelty item, an engaging piece of gossip to make it fly, and I’m not sure I’m ready to see you humiliated.’
‘Only “not sure”?’ she asked, starting to smile.
‘I wouldn’t stand for it,’ he spelled out.
‘I accept,’ she said brightly.
Closing his eyes for a moment, he groaned inwardly at the thought of what Rosie’s attendance at the drinks party would do to his precious clear thinking.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘Decision made. You’ll come to the mainland with me, and I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t feel out of place.’
She tipped her head to one side to stare at him with laughing eyes. ‘You don’t have much confidence in me, do you?’
The truth was, he didn’t know what to expect from the redoubtable Rosie Clifton. But then she frowned. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to wear for this party of yours.’
‘I’ll buy you a dress,’ he offered.
‘I can’t accept money from you—’
‘Dios, Rosie! When are you going to stop being so proud? What are we talking about here—a dress and a pair of shoes? When you’ve sorted yourself out, you can pay me back.’
‘When I’ve accepted your pay-off, do you mean?’ she asked him suspiciously.
That was exactly what he meant. ‘We’ll think of something,’ he said.
She had to accept. She was getting nowhere on her own, Rosie thought. And unless she could come up with funding for the islanders’ scheme, Xavier and his team would steamroller his plans through.
‘You think too much,’ he said, reading her preoccupation. ‘You want it—you’ve got it. Now, leave it alone.’
He was right. Building bridges between them was more important than worrying about her entry into high society. But...
‘A cocktail party.’ Her throat tightened on the unaccustomed phrase. ‘I’ve never been to one of those before.’
‘You’ve never owned half an island before,’ Xavier pointed out, ‘but you seem to be handling it.’
‘Handling you, do you mean?’
He almost smiled. She did too. It was time for new beginnings. She had to take the next step, or he would leave her in his wake. She had to find the courage to finish what she’d started.
CHAPTER EIGHT
WHEN THE MASSIVE marble and gilt hotel where she was to stay on the mainland loomed into sight, Rosie thought it even more terrifying than the flight over from the island, and that had been something. She had never travelled in a private jet before. They used the bus at the orphanage, and she had caught the ferry to the island after flying there on a commercial jet with the comfort of hundreds of people around her. There had been no one to talk to or distract her in the hushed luxury of Xavier’s private jet, as he had gone on ahead, and her nerves were shredded by the time the plane landed. The hotel was her second hurdle. The limousine that had brought her directly from the tarmac outside the jet had stopped outside the grand entrance. Her luggage would be brought up directly, the driver told her stiffly as she stepped out of the car.
Her throat dried as she mounted the marble steps and glanced up at the towering façade. Doors were opened before she had a chance to touch the handle, and once inside the lobby she found it bustling with elegant, beautifully dressed people, who seemed to smell of money; everything smelled of money to Rosie’s untutored nose. There were huge floral displays, and such a mix of scents, sounds and new impressions they made her dizzy as she wove her way through the throng.
Having been given her instructions at the desk—where she’d stood in line for ages, only to discover she should have used another desk where they only handled those privileged individuals whose rooms were located on the higher floors—she crossed to the bank of elevators. Having tried frantically to operate the lift, she now discovered there was a man to do that for her. And the elevator cabin wasn’t just a fu
nctional steel-and-glass method of moving between floors, but an elegant affair with a velvet banquette and gilt-framed mirrors. She was careful to stand well away from the walls in case she marked them.
