‘Indeed,’ Gian said. ‘I should let you get on.’
She tried to stall him again. ‘What about my uniform? Don’t I need to be measured?’
‘You’ll be working as a chambermaid for the first few weeks of your rotation. That uniform comes in small, medium or large, I believe.’
There was the tiniest wrinkle of her pretty nose and then she shrugged. ‘I lied,’ Ariana admitted. ‘I do want the tartan and pearls.’
‘I know you do.’
‘And I shall get them one day. I shall be the best guest services manager you’ve ever had.’ She pictured her pretty pink business cards with her name embossed in rose gold: Ariana Romano, VIP Guest Services Manager.
Perhaps she shouldn’t be so vocal with her dreams, but when she looked up she was startled by the glimmer of a smile softening his mouth.
It was a smile she had never seen on him before.
Ariana had known him for a long time. If there was trouble in her life—and all too often there was—it was Gian she ran to. And when, inevitably, she thanked him for sorting whatever problem she had placed in his lap, he would nod and give her his grim, somewhat weary smile. There was another smile she knew: each year they sat side by side at the Romano Ball, and each year he performed a duty dance, and so of course she was privy to his duty smile.
Yes, his duty smile, she called it, for that was exactly what it was.
She saw it used on guests, on dignitaries and on herself as recently as this evening when she had first walked in. This smile, though, was different. This off-duty smile felt as if it was just for her, though it was fading now and his grey eyes returned to guarded.
‘I really do need to get on,’ Gian said as Luna appeared with her coat.
As she and Gian walked out, Ariana saw the stunning woman from the Pianoforte Bar smile over at him. ‘I’ll be with you in just a moment.’ Gian nodded to her and from the lack of affection in his tone she assumed he had another client.
‘I thought I was your last appointment,’ Ariana said.
‘You were.’
He stalked off then to the waiting woman, who lifted her face to him, clearly expecting a most thorough kiss, but instead Ariana heard his slight rebuke. ‘I said I would meet you at the theatre, Svetlana.’
‘I thought we might have dinner in the restaurant,’ Svetlana purred and needlessly fiddled with the lapel of his jacket. ‘You still haven’t taken me there.’
Oh!
Ariana’s face was on fire, yet she could not look away. It was unsettling to see him with a woman when of course it should not be, given his reputation. It just felt different seeing it first-hand and flicked a little knife toward her heart.
‘Maybe after...?’ Svetlana persisted.
Gian was not enamoured of women who purred, or those who felt the need to pick an imaginary piece of lint from his lapel, and Svetlana had been doing a lot of both of those of late.
He had already decided they were over, and was about to tell Svetlana, but with Ariana so close, for reasons he did not care—or dare—to examine, he chose not to. ‘Come,’ he said, ‘we’ll be late.’
He didn’t even glance in Ariana’s direction as he headed off. After all, if he stopped to say goodbye to each member of staff, he would never get out of the door.
Ariana Romano as staff?
Ariana in his hotel each and every day...
Instantly, he regretted his decision to take her on.
But then, on Monday morning, an hour after Ariana should have commenced her first shift, he received a text.
Gian, I am sorry! There has been an Extraordinary Board Meeting called!!!! Can I start in the afternoon instead?
Very deliberately, Gian didn’t respond.
He didn’t even scold her for her excessive use of exclamation marks; after all, Ariana personified them. This could never, ever work, and when she came in, hours late, on her very first day, Gian would tell her exactly why.
At lunchtime, rather than text she called him, no doubt with yet more excuses.
‘Gian—’
‘I don’t want to hear it,’ Gian cut in abruptly. ‘Ariana, I simply do not want to know. Even after I gave explicit instructions not to do so, you still think you can call and text me with excuses for why you’re late or not coming in. I don’t deal with junior—’
‘Gian, please, just listen to me...’
She was starting to cry, but Gian was way too used to her crocodile tears. ‘I knew on Friday you were unsuitable for the role and your behaviour today merely confirms it. This could never have worked.’
‘Gian...’ she sobbed, but though he refused to be moved his mask slipped and he forgot to be polite. ‘You sat in this office and pleaded for a start, and I gave you one. The contracts were drawn up and waiting to be signed, but clearly something more enticing has come along. I don’t want to hear about extraordinary board meetings. The only extraordinary thing was that I actually thought you had changed your precocious, self-serving ways, but clearly you have not.’
Problem solved, Gian thought as he terminated the call. He was a little breathless, and barely holding onto his temper but he also felt a strange disappointment that, yet again, Ariana had let herself down. She was incapable of seeing things through. She was absolutely devoid of any sense of responsibility. She was always onto the next best thing the second it showed up.
Yet there was a mounting sense of disquiet to have heard her tears, for there had been an unfamiliar rasp to them that had, on reflection, sounded real.
She’d probably been putting it on, Gian told himself. If Ariana really wanted a career then perhaps she should have considered acting.
The ridiculous thing was, as he sat there, he was envisioning her in the blush pink tartan suit and the string of pearls
