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He’d better speak with Beatrice now.
And say what?
Beatrice, you are brilliant at your job, and I can think of no one better to deal with the barrage from the press when I sign the Document of intent. However, I need you to leave so I can sign said document. And can we have one night together as a reward for good behaviour after your leaving do?
Hardly.
He glanced down and there Beatrice was, alone by the lake rather than eating blue cupcakes with her colleagues. There was a forlorn air to her that tripped some unknown switch buried within him.
She was making friends—not that she knew it yet. His close-knit team were warming to her. Jordan had even negotiated on Beatrice’s behalf, prior to any offer, insisting on an attractive package in order to convince her to stay.
She would, as Jordan said, be an asset to the team.
The moral dilemma was all his.
He took the stairs with purpose, crossed the terrace with elegant ease, then slowed as he approached the lake.
‘Oh.’ She turned at his footsteps and went to stand up. ‘Excuse me...’
‘Don’t get up,’ he said. ‘Do you mind if I join you?’
‘Of course not,’ she said, but he could hear her reluctance at having him invade her oh-so-personal space.
He peered into her very neat lunchbox, and then at Beatrice. He was good at this, Julius reminded himself. Small talk. Job offer. Small talk.
‘You like to take lunch here?’ he asked.
‘I like the peace.’ Beatrice nodded. ‘Well...’
‘Sorry to intrude.’
She actually laughed, and it was a sound so unfamiliar to him that it seemed like windchimes above them. Usually windchimes annoyed him, but not this sunny afternoon.
‘That came out wrong,’ Beatrice admitted, and even managed another small laugh. ‘The peacocks are really noisy today.’
‘Ah...’ he nodded. ‘Bastards.’
She turned, startled.
‘They screech me awake an hour before my alarm.’ Small talk was so easy. ‘If I set it for five, they rise at four. If I set it for seven, they wake at six...’ He glanced over. Enough small talk? Perhaps a moment longer...? ‘You feed the swans?’ he asked.
‘The black ones.’ She nodded. ‘They’re all fledging except that one.’ She pointed to the straggler. ‘He’s lazy,’ Beatrice said, watching as he hopped onto a little island of rushes and started calling out as his family glided off. ‘He still likes to hitch a ride on his mother’s back. She always goes back for him.’
‘It’s natural.’
‘No!’ Beatrice disputed. ‘He should be independent by now. Cats are the same—they have nothing to do with their kittens after a few months.’
Julius took a breath. He was not here for her depressing take on Mother Nature. ‘Beatrice, you know I fly out for a week in the morning?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re aware, I’m sure, that initially I didn’t want to hire you.’
‘You made that very clear.’
‘Well, I was wrong. You have been a great help.’ He looked over at her pressed lips and pointed little nose. ‘I sincerely mean that. You’ve taken a lot of the pressure off my dealings with the press and the aides—all of it, really. However...’
‘Am I being fired?’
