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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.
