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‘This is your floor,’ the lift operator informed her.
‘Thank you.’ She’d had a chance to study her reflection. She looked so out of place it was almost funny. Except it wasn’t, because she wanted to make the right impression, and, judging from the man’s manner towards her, she hadn’t made a very good start. He was probably wondering why Security had allowed her upstairs in the first place in her thrift-shop dress and worn canvas sneakers. She might have wondered the same thing, if she hadn’t known by now that the name Don Xavier Del Rio opened any door. But whatever was waiting for her beyond the elevator doors, she would remember her promise to Doña Anna and hold her head up high.
She walked slowly down the subtly lit corridor, trying to take everything in. She felt as if she were wrapped in money, cosseted and protected from the outside world, which was obviously the hotel’s objective. Even the air smelled expensive. And it was so quiet. The carpet was so thick it absorbed the sound of footsteps, while the walls were covered with silk rather than paper, which would muffle any sound. The décor was the type of tasteful opulence Rosie had only seen in magazines before. It must have taken a lot of putting together, she guessed, but it was certainly effective. Even the muted colours had been chosen to soothe the harried guests, providing them with a haven from their busy lives.
So what was she doing here?
It was time to put thoughts like that out of her mind. She had to think positively now. She was here to attend a cocktail party, whatever that might entail.
Her door was at the end of the corridor. After several failed attempts, she managed to get her key card to work. Standing on the threshold, she stared around. The room was so vast she couldn’t take it in. Catching sight of her bedazzled expression in one of the mirrors on the wall, she quickly closed her mouth, closed the door—and then she saw the dress. It was spread out on the sofa with a soft cream wrap next to it. She loved the wrap, but her heart picked up pace when she took a closer look at the dress. It looked like something a starlet would wear. Cut to fit like a second skin, it had a plunging neckline, and a split up the side that would leave nothing to the imagination. No way could she wear underwear beneath it.
Picking it up, she walked over to the mirror and held it against her. The dress was obviously expensive and very beautiful, in its way, but if anyone had asked her honest opinion she would have said it was a bit flashy, and definitely not something she would have chosen for herself. She preferred to blend into the background, rather than stand out, and there was no hope of blending in a dress like this. With her shabby shoes and custard dress, she looked like a child about to dress up in her big sister’s clothes. And then she saw the shoes lined up neatly on top of their box. But were they shoes, or instruments of torture? She’d never worn high-heeled shoes before. ‘Pride must bear a pinch,’ Doña Anna would have said. And she was being ungrateful, Rosie concluded, pulling a face. Putting her concerns to one side, she headed for the bathroom to shower and change.
* * *
‘Do you want me to give you a hand?’ Xavier’s driver enquired politely when they had arrived outside what had to be the most impressive office building in the city.
‘Would you mind?’ Rosie had got herself stuck halfway between the car seat and the pavement. The dress was so tight, and her heels were so high, that she couldn’t find a way of propelling herself forward, short of pulling her skirt above her knickers to free her legs.
‘Just put your hand on my arm and trust me,’ the chauffeur advised, ‘and I’ll get you out, somehow...’
He’d been quite stuffy up to that point, but now, when they shared a look at his suggestion, they both started to laugh. ‘I’ll take you inside,’ he offered when he’d got her out in one piece and had steadied her on the pavement.
‘Thanks for the offer, but I’ll be fine.’ She was terrified, but she had to do this on her own. She had to learn how big business and society worked if she was going to be any use to the islanders.
Did she want to learn how society worked?
Not particularly, Rosie concluded, when she was left on the wrong side of the revolving doors, while everyone else pushed past her, but Doña Anna had insisted that part of Rosie’s development as a person must include broadening her horizons, so here she was, broadening them.
‘Excuse me, please...’ Pinning a confident smile to her face, she made sure that the next group approaching the entrance didn’t brush her aside so easily, and finally she was inside the building.
The party was on the forty-fourth floor. She felt like a flamingo on stilts as she exited the elevator and followed the noise down the corridor. The double doors were open wide in welcome, while the room beyond was packed with elegantly dressed people, all of whom seemed to know each other. Breathing in, she begged pardon politely, and wove her way through the crowd towards Xavier. She had spotted him immediately. He was at the hub of everything. He was like a magnet that drew people to him. He was also the tallest and easily the best-looking man in the room, and her heart went crazy, though she determinedly blanked the fantasy of him turning to see her, and holding out his arms to embrace her, as if she were the only woman in the world.
He was busy talking and hadn’t seen her arrive. She hovered in the background, listening. He was chatting about the island, saying he was keen to get started on his new scheme there, but there were one or two problems still standing in his way. The glances that passed between his guests made Rosie wonder if they thought she was the problem. A couple of the men turned round to look at her. Whether they recognised her from the newspapers, she couldn’t be sure, but she felt uncomfortable when they started murmuring to their companions.
‘Ah,’ Xavier said, swinging around. ‘Allow me to introduce Señorita Clifton.’
It was as if the entire room drew a collective breath. Everyone stilled and turned to look at her. She felt like a curiosity at a museum. Then, a man who was obviously important, judging by the way the crowd had parted for him, took hold of Xavier’s arm and led him away, and the same people who had feigned interest in her only moments before now turned their backs on her and ignored her.
She stood for a moment, not knowing what to do. Her feet were killing her, and she was surrounded by a wall of backs. Kicking off the heels, she hung them from her wrist like a clumsy bracelet. She could probably have taken her clothes off too. No one would have noticed, but at least her feet were happy now.
She set off on a tour of the room, trying to engage people in conversation. They either ignored her or moved away. Determined that she would not be shut out, she grabbed a plate of canapés from the bar and started to offer them around. The plate was almost empty by the time she reached Xavier, and not one word of thanks had come her way. She had joined the ranks of invisible people, and vowed in that moment that she would never take anyone for granted, let alone ignore them.
Waiting politely until Xavier had finished his conversation, she waved the plate under his nose. ‘Canapé, sir?’
‘What on earth are you doing?’ he said, frowning with surprise. ‘And what on earth are you wearing?’ he murmured.
‘Well, you chose it.’
‘I certainly did not.’ He removed the plate from her hand and handed it to a waiter with a few words of thanks. ‘One of the secretaries picked it up for you.’
How comforting to think she was like a file that could be passed around the office for someone else to deal with.
Taking hold of her arm, Xavier steered her through the press of people to a cooler spot beside the door. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ he said.
He took her to his private office. It was stylish, yet plain, with every gizmo known to man. She was impressed. She tensed as he closed the door, suspecting she’d let him down. She’d fallen at the first hurdle, making a hash of her so-called entry into society.
‘Why didn’t you introduce yourself around?’ he said, frowning.
