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‘I gave you the job itself, didn’t I?’ Dominic’s words came out almost as a growl, and Faith decided to change tack.
‘And in order that I can do it to the best of my ability and present the right impression of your company to your clients...I was wondering if there might be some sort of clothing allowance involved...’
His eyes did that quick flash over her body again, and Faith gave thanks she hadn’t put the other, scoop neck, T-shirt on that morning. Not that he’d have noticed, of course. All he seemed to care about was that she wasn’t wearing some boring suit.
‘You’re right,’ Dominic said. ‘I do need you to make the right impression.’
Faith perked up a bit. ‘So you’ll give me money to go shopping?’
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.
