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There was a sharp rat-a-tat-tat at the door and he stood frozen for a moment clutching a pair of fluffy slippers, coming to his senses he threw them into his bedroom and then hurried to answer the door.
Dorian held up a picnic basket as Alex greeted him. “I told Mrs Weather we were having a working dinner and she insisted on putting something together. And Mr Billins gave me this.”
Dorian handed over a bottle of chilled white wine. “I’ll get some glasses and plates. I only have a coffee table though.”
“We’ll cope.”
Alex collected two glasses and opened the wine, watching Dorian lay out plates of sandwiches and cake. “I see Mrs Weather thought I was having six for dinner,” he said, handing Dorian a glass of wine.
“I think she finds it a personal affront if someone in the household ever feels hungry. She’d be horrified to witness my diet when I’m shredding.”
“I’d rather not have a washboard stomach and not have to live off grilled chicken and water,” Alex said, picking up a sandwich. “I love cheese and pickle sandwiches too much to give them up.”
“I can’t say I miss the crazy diets, but those are Hollywood expectations and I am hoping my future projects won’t involve me getting my kit off.”
From the film he’d seen, he decided Dorian’s crazy diets had paid off and, have been pressed against him a number of times of late, he wouldn’t say he’d gone to seed. “Talking of which, we should work through the list. A good agent should make it happen then you can cover up your tummy rolls.”
“Oi!” Dorian lifted his T-shirt revealing a stomach Alex had no hope in hell of emulating but wouldn’t have minded testing its pillow capabilities. “I haven’t got tummy rolls. Bloody cheek.”
“Yes, yes, put it away. I believe you.”
From the back pocket of his jeans, Dorian retrieved a folded piece of paper. “I had a look at the list.”
“Let me grab my laptop, we can transfer your comments into the spreadsheet.”
“I did try to do that but I was worried about overwriting things, and I’ve never had to use a spreadsheet so I was a bit out of my depth.”
Dorian wouldn’t have any need for dealing with the horrors of Microsoft programmes. “I suppose you’ve always had someone else to do it for you.”
“Yeah, pretty much. Robin loved something called a pivot table but half the time I hadn’t a clue what he was on about.”
“Something else me and your ex have in common, I do love a bit of structured data.”
Dorian unfolded his notes. “I have already ruled a couple out based on your notes. Also, I’d heard of one of them before and it wasn’t good so we’re down to three already.”
“Reputation is everything in your business, and I think you’re not going to want to risk being associated with someone who might cast a shadow.”
He saw Dorian had made extensive notes, it surprised him, firstly because he hadn’t expected him to take the time, but secondly because his handwriting was precise and neat. He’d perfected the art of reading scrawl and chicken scratches, and it had come in handy with Ben’s terrible handwriting, so Dorian’s was a treat for his eyes.
Alex grabbed another sandwich as Dorian talked him through his thinking and he appeared to have a favourite although Alex could tell he was trying not to show his bias.
“I’m assuming none of them would turn you away if you showed interest, so how do you want to go about contacting them and making an informed decision?” Alex asked, he had his own ideas, but given the effort Dorian had already made, he suspected he wouldn’t have to do all the heavy lifting.
“I was hoping you’d contact them on my behalf first, and then we can arrange a quick call, and if I think them okay, we could interview them together.”
“You’d want me to be in on the interviews?” Alex was surprised at the request.
“Yes, I’m second-guessing pretty much everything at the moment so having another opinion would be great. You’ve dealt with all sorts of people and you’d be a brilliant judge of character.”
His ability to see through bullshit was why he was successful at what he did. “All right.”
Dorian drained his glass and poured them both more wine. “I didn’t realise you had a set-up like this.”
“You mean the flat?”
“Yeah, I thought you might just have a room or something.”
“I guess it’s because I’m staff… I don’t join the family for dinner, like Dara and Chris, who sort of feel more like extended guests. The past earls would have had a valet or a secretary so I’m taking rooms that are in line with that status.”
