Книга - Heiress on the Run

Heiress on the Run
Sophie Pembroke


Once a Lady…always a Lady?Lord Dominic Beresford needs his luck to change. But with a public betrayal and his business on the rocks, it's not looking good.Three years ago Lady Faith Fowlmere left her painful past and her identity behind, but life on the run has left her jobless, penniless and alone.It seems they're the answer to each other's prayers. But Faith can't keep her secret forever, and as she gets closer to Dominic she realizes that this time she can't run, because it would mean leaving her heart behind….







Dominic took a deep breath and made his play. ‘How would you feel about making the boss thing a more permanent arrangement?’

She wanted to say yes. It was a fantastic offer—something that would really let her build up her life as Faith Fowler. But how could she do it in the shadow of her family name? How could she risk living in London again, knowing that any moment the paparazzi could find her and thrust her back into the limelight?

Dominic gave her an encouraging smile and she tried to return it.

Would it really be so bad even if they did find her? She was a grown woman. And with a stable job with Dominic she’d never be reliant on her family for money or anything else again. This could be her chance at true independence.

Until Dominic found out the truth. There was no way he’d hang on to an employee who brought the paparazzi down on him for harbouring a missing heiress. And once they’d found her all the stories would start up again, the pictures of her leaving that damn hotel room would be back in circulation, and the rumours about her relationship with a married, drug addict rock star … No. Dominic wouldn’t stand for any of that. Even if she could make him believe that the papers had it all wrong.

She couldn’t stay. There was no place for her in Dominic’s world any more—if there ever really had been. Getting close to Dominic … It was a mistake. One she was very afraid she might have already made. But there had to be a line, a point she couldn’t cross. She couldn’t fall in love. And so she couldn’t risk staying.


Heiress on the Run

Sophie Pembroke




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


SOPHIE PEMBROKE has been dreaming, reading and writing romance for years—ever since she first read The Far Pavilions under her desk in Chemistry class. She later stayed up all night devouring Mills & Boon


books as part of her English degree at Lancaster University, and promptly gave up any pretext of enjoying tragic novels. After all, what’s the point of a book without a happy ending?

She loves to set her novels in the places where she has lived—from the wilds of the Welsh mountains to the genteel humour of an English country village, or the heat and tension of a London summer. She also has a tendency to make her characters kiss in castles.

Currently Sophie makes her home in Hertfordshire, with her scientist husband (who still shakes his head at the reading-in-Chemistry thing) and their four-year-old Alice-in-Wonderland-obsessed daughter. She writes her love stories in the study she begrudgingly shares with her husband, while drinking too much tea and eating homemade cakes. Or, when things are looking very bad for her heroes and heroines, white wine and dark chocolate.

Sophie keeps a blog at www.SophiePembroke.com (http://www.SophiePembroke.com), which should be about romance and writing but is usually about cake and castles instead.


For Mum & Dad for always believing I could


Contents

CHAPTER ONE (#u3a87c045-ac46-5268-9e5e-2caba95b8477)

CHAPTER TWO (#u9f92addd-92f8-5898-a34f-af767031c9ba)

CHAPTER THREE (#ued00fc97-3e34-59f4-963f-c8a8e2137ab4)

CHAPTER FOUR (#u3722c5c7-47a2-5d04-b35d-e61df1a2c879)

CHAPTER FIVE (#ue5f88ed6-0937-553e-8cd3-a736698ecd1e)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EXCERPT (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE

‘I DON’T UNDERSTAND,’ Faith said, fingers gripping the fabric of her uniform too tightly. The body-hugging grey pencil skirt didn’t have a lot of give, but she needed something solid and real in her hands. Something that definitely existed. Unlike the plane that was supposed to be taking her and her latest tour group back to London. ‘How can there not be a plane?’

The airport official had the air of a man who’d had this conversation far more times than he’d like today, and in more languages than he was really comfortable with. It was in no way reassuring. ‘There is no plane, signorina, because there is no company any longer. It’s been declared bankrupt. All customers of the Roman Holiday Tour Company are being asked to contact their insurance companies and—’

‘But I’m not a customer!’ Faith interrupted, her patience exhausted. She’d been in the airport for three hours now, and she really needed a cup of coffee. Or an explanation for what the hell had happened to trash her immediate future overnight. ‘I’m an employee. I’m the tour guide.’

The official’s gaze turned pitying. Faith guessed that meant she wasn’t likely to get paid this month. Or ever. Great. Just when her bank account could really have done with the help. ‘Then I suggest you call your employer. If you are able to find him.’

Oh, that really didn’t sound good.

Turning away, Faith gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile in the direction of the huddle of tourists waiting for her to report back on their journey home. Holding up her index finger in the universal ‘just one minute’ gesture, she fished in her capacious bag for her phone. Time to find out what the hell was going on.

‘Marco?’ she asked, the moment the phone stopped ringing. ‘What the hell—’

There was a click on the other end of the line. Thank you for calling the Roman Holiday Tour Company! There is no one available to take your call right now...

Her own voice on the voicemail message.

Faith hung up.

Around her, Leonardo da Vinci Airport buzzed with life. The sounds of crackly announcements and suitcase wheels on smooth flooring. The chatter of excited holiday-goers. The smell of fast food and strong coffee. The twelve British tourists standing around their suitcases, looking at her hopefully.

Faith took a deep breath, and approached. ‘Okay, guys, here’s the situation. I’ll be honest, it’s not great, but I’m still here and I will help you sort everything out, okay?’ Maybe she wasn’t getting paid any more, and maybe her boss had disappeared off the face of the earth, but she’d spent the last two weeks showing these people the sights and sounds of Italy. They trusted her. She owed it to them to at least make sure they got home safely. Maybe, that way, their memories of this holiday wouldn’t just be of a total disaster.

No one actually relaxed at her words, but at least they looked slightly less terrified, which Faith figured was the best she could hope for, given the circumstances. Now for the hard bit.

‘So, let’s start at the top. Does everybody have travel insurance?’

It took a full two and a half hours, four cups of coffee, twenty phone calls, and plenty of sweet-talking, but eventually Faith had everyone either rebooked on other flights or safely ensconced in a hotel room until their insurance could organise their return home.

Everyone, that was, except for her.

Dropping down to sit on one of the airport benches, ignoring the guy asleep with his head on his backpack next to her, Faith pulled out her phone and tried Marco’s number again.

Thank you for calling the Roman Holiday Tour Company! There is no one available to take your call right now...

She jabbed the end call button, dropped her phone into her lap, and closed her eyes. Okay, so, time to review the situation. Where was she?

She was in Rome! Centre of history, romance and really great pizza. She knew her way around, she had, ooh, twenty euros in her purse, she...was unemployed, homeless and stuck.

Faith sighed, and opened her eyes again, looking around the busy terminal. Everybody there seemed to know exactly where they were going, and how they were going to get there. She didn’t even know where she was going to sleep tonight.

She could call Antonio, she supposed. Except for the part where she really, really couldn’t. Ex-boyfriends weren’t generally inclined to be hugely helpful when her life fell apart, she’d learnt the hard way, and the one she’d left in a fit of anger only two weeks earlier would probably throw her out on her ear. Or worse.

And since everyone else she knew in Rome was either part of Antonio’s ridiculously extended family or related to her missing employer, or both, that pretty much exhausted the local options.

Which left her with...home. She should be back in London by now, ready to pick up her next group and embark on a tour of the Italian lakes. She guessed that was off, too. She’d barely seen more of the homeland than the cheapest airport hotel at Heathrow since she left Britain a year and a half ago, and even if she hadn’t cut all ties with the friends she’d had before that, how could she just call up and say, Hey, I’m kinda stranded. Want to buy me a plane ticket?

No, the only people anyone could do that to were family. And she really didn’t want to have to call them, either.

She had no doubt that dear old Mum and Dad, the Lord and Lady Fowlmere, would welcome her back into the bosom of the family in no time. After all, the publicity of the wild child heiress returned to the Fowlmere estate would make great copy, and her father always loved anything that made him look good in the press.

Faith had left home three years ago, ready to be herself for once, not an aristocratic relic to be trotted out for charity galas and other occasions, or a standing joke in the society pages. Going home now would undo all that hard work. Not to mention bring up the reasons she’d had to leave in the first place.

But it didn’t look like she had an awful lot of choice.

Rubbing a hand across her forehead, Faith straightened her white blouse, then ripped off the hideous orange and red necktie that Marco insisted on his guides wearing and shoved it in her bag. It meant that the neckline of her blouse was a little more revealing than was entirely appropriate, but she didn’t care. If she was going to have to call her family, she needed a drink first. And perhaps flashing a little cleavage as she walked into the airport bar would mean that she didn’t have to waste any of her precious twenty euros buying it herself.

* * *

‘Explain to me again how this happened.’ Lord Dominic Beresford looked at the icy-cold bottle of Italian beer sitting on the bar in front of him with longing. He’d spent all day in meetings, worked in the cab all the way to the airport, and was just ready to switch off and relax before his late-night flight back to London, when Kevin, the Temp from Hell, called.

Dominic’s beer would have to wait until he’d fixed whatever Kevin had screwed up now.

On the other end of the phone line, he could hear Kevin frantically turning pages in one of the many files Dominic was sure he had stacked on his desk. Stupid Shelley and her stupid maternity leave anyway. Wasn’t keeping him sane a higher calling than a baby?

Dominic swept a finger down the beads of water on the neck of his beer bottle. Even he had to admit, probably not.

‘Um, best I can tell, sir, your secretary booked in the tour guide with your usual company some months ago. And then...’ Kevin trailed off nervously.

And then, Dominic filled in mentally, the owner of that usual company, Lady Katarina Forrester, also known at the time as his fiancée, had been caught on camera in a rather compromising position, leading to a media storm that had threatened his family’s reputation.

So he’d called off the engagement. And in retaliation she’d cancelled their professional relationship, too.

Which left him with six American businessmen and -women flying into London tonight, expecting entertainment and tourism to go with their meetings. And probably, now he thought about it, hotel rooms, too. Kat had always taken care of the accommodation for his business guests.

The fact that this was almost entirely his own fault for getting involved with a business contact in the first place didn’t make Dominic want that beer any less. He should have known better.

‘I think I can remember what happened next,’ he told Kevin drily. ‘But I’m more interested in what happens now. Here’s what I need you to do. First—’

‘Um...’ Kevin said, the way he always did when he was about to ruin Dominic’s day. Surely Shelley didn’t need a full year off with the baby. What if she didn’t come back at all?

‘What?’ Dominic bit out.

‘The thing is, it’s nearly eight o’clock, sir. I’m supposed to finish work at five-thirty.’ Kevin sounded more whiny than apologetic about the fact. How had Shelley ever thought he’d be a fitting replacement for her? Unless her mothering instinct had kicked in early. Kevin certainly needed taking care of.

‘Add the hours onto your time sheet,’ Dominic said, attempting reason. ‘I’ll make sure you’re compensated for your time.’

‘Thank you, sir. Only it’s not just that. I’ve got a...commitment tonight I can’t break.’

‘A date?’ Dominic tried to imagine the lanky, spotty Kevin with an actual woman, and failed.

‘No!’ The squeak in Kevin’s voice suggested he had similar problems with the idea. ‘Just a group I belong to. It’s an important meeting.’

The thing with temps, Dominic had found, was you couldn’t just threaten them with the sack. They always had something new to move onto, and no incentive to stay.

And, it was worth remembering, Kevin had screwed up almost every simple job Dominic had asked him to do in the last week. Sometimes, if you wanted a job done properly...

‘Fine. Go. I’ll fix it.’

The scrambling on the other end of the line suggested Kevin was already halfway out of the door. ‘Yes, sir. Thank you.’ He hung up.

Dominic gave the beer another wistful look. And then he called Shelley.

The wailing child in the background wasn’t a good sign. ‘Dominic, I am on maternity leave. I do not work for you right now.’

‘I know that. But—’

‘Are you sure? Because this is the fifth time you’ve called me this week.’

‘In my defence, you weren’t supposed to go on maternity leave for another two weeks.’

‘I am very sorry that my son arrived early and disrupted your busy schedule.’ She didn’t sound very sorry, Dominic thought. She sounded sarcastic. ‘Now, what do you want? And quickly.’

‘The Americans. Kat cancelled all our bookings and—’

‘Told you not to sleep with her.’

‘And I need to find them somewhere to stay and someone to look after them while they’re in London.’

‘Yes,’ Shelley said. ‘You do.’

‘Can you help?’ He hated begging. Hated admitting he needed the assistance. But Shelley had been with him for five years. She knew how he worked, what he needed. She was part of the company.

Or she had been, until she left him.

She obviously still had more loyalty than Kevin, though. Sighing, she said, ‘I’ll check my contacts and text you some hotel names and tour companies you can try. But you’ll have to wait until I’ve got Micah back off to sleep.’

‘Thank you.’

‘And this is the last time, Dominic. You’re going to have to learn to work with Kevin.’

‘I could just hire someone else,’ Dominic mused. The thought of a whole year with Kevin was untenable.

‘Fine. Whatever. I don’t care. Just stop calling me!’ Shelley hung up.

Placing his phone on the bar, Dominic looked at the bottle of beer. How long did it take to get a child off to sleep, anyway? He might as well have a drink while he was waiting. But, as he reached for the bottle, a woman boosted herself up onto the stool next to him and smiled.

Raising the bottle to his lips, Dominic took in the low-cut blouse, too-tight skirt and wild dark hair framing large hazel eyes. The smile on her wide lips was knowing, and he wondered if she’d recognised him. What she wanted from him. A drink. A night. A story to sell. She wouldn’t be the first, whatever it was.

And whatever it was, she wouldn’t get it. He’d made a mistake, letting Kat close enough to damage his reputation. It wasn’t one he intended to make again—certainly not for one night with a pretty girl with an agenda.

But, to his surprise, the first words she said were, ‘Sounds like you have a problem, my friend. And I think I can help you out.’

* * *

It wasn’t the way she normally got work, but there was a lot to be said for serendipity, Faith decided. Walking into an airport bar, jobless and broke, and hearing a guy talk about how he needed a London tour guide and hotel rooms? That was an opportunity that was meant to be.

‘And how, exactly, do you intend to do that?’ the guy asked. He didn’t look quite as convinced by coincidence as she was.

Faith held out a hand. ‘I’m Faith. I’m a tour guide. I know London even better than I know Italy and Rome, and I’ve been running tours here for a year and a half. And it just so happens that I’ve finished one tour today, and I have a break before my next one.’ She didn’t mention the slight hiccup in her heartbeat at the idea of going home to London. Probably it would be fine. She could be in and out in a week or so, heading off on a plane to sunnier, less panic-inducing climes.

Besides, at this point, it wasn’t as if she had a lot of other options.

‘Dominic,’ the guy said, taking her hand. He looked familiar, she realised. But then, after a while, all men in grey suits looked the same, didn’t they? Maybe not quite as attractive as this one, though. His gaze was cool and evaluating. The high-end suit said ‘successful businessman’, the loosened tie said ‘workaholic’ and the beer said ‘long day’. She could work with all of those. ‘And how, exactly, do you know I need a tour guide?’

‘I eavesdropped.’ Faith shrugged, then realised the move strained her struggling blouse a little more than was wise in a professional environment. Maybe she should have left the necktie on.

‘Not exactly the key quality I look for in an employee.’ He frowned down at her cleavage with more distaste than she was used to seeing in a man.

‘Really?’ Faith asked. ‘Someone who listens even when they’re not required to and anticipates your needs? I’ve always found that rather useful.’

It was funny, Faith thought, the way you could watch someone re-evaluate you, and see the change in their attitude as a result. When she’d first sat down, she’d known all he saw was boobs and hair. Then she’d offered to help him, and his expression had changed from dismissive to interested. And now...now he was really intrigued.

‘Okay, so, we’ve established I need a tour guide. I also need seven luxury hotel rooms in a central London five-star hotel.’

Thank goodness for airport Wi-Fi.

Logging into her browser from her smartphone, Faith scrolled through to the late booking accommodation site Marco always used, and set her search parameters. ‘For tomorrow?’

Dominic nodded. ‘Staying six nights.’

There weren’t a lot of options, so Faith just presented him with the best one. ‘How about the Greyfriars?’ She turned the screen for him to see the eye-watering price, next to the photo of a hotel suite larger than the flat she’d shared with Antonio in Rome.

A slight widening of the eyes, a tight smile, and Faith knew he was re-evaluating her again. Good. She could be useful to him, and he could be even more useful to her. Time he realised that.

‘The Greyfriars should work.’

Faith tapped a few more buttons on her tiny screen. ‘I’ve reserved the rooms. Do you want to trust me with your credit card information, or call and speak with them directly?’

He raised his eyebrows, even as he pulled his wallet from his jacket pocket. For a moment, Faith thought he might actually hand it over, but then he picked up his phone, too. ‘Give me the number.’

Grabbing her well used red notebook from her bag, Faith scribbled down both the phone number of the hotel and the reservation reference, and pushed the page across to him.

While he spoke with the receptionist, Faith ordered herself a glass of wine, hoping that Dominic would be impressed enough by her efficiency that she wouldn’t have to rely on her last twenty euros for much longer.

So. She’d got the man his hotel rooms; surely he had to offer her the tour guide job now, right? Which meant his next question would be ‘What do you want?’ She needed to formulate an answer—one that didn’t let on exactly how much more she needed his help than he needed hers.

What did she want? For Antonio never to have found out who she really was. For Marco not to have done a bunk. For her parents to be normal middle-class people. Teachers, perhaps. People who fitted in, which her parents certainly did not. She wanted to not have to worry that every camera or phone she saw might be about to send her picture soaring around the realms of social media, ready to be identified as Lady Faith, the Missing Heiress.

She wanted to have never been caught on camera leaving that hotel room, three years ago. That was a big one.

But right now, she’d settle for a ride back to London, a hotel room for the week, meals and drinks included, and maybe a small salary at the end of the job. Enough to tide her over until she found her next gig. It wouldn’t take long; she was good at her job, she enjoyed it, and people liked her. That was important in the events and tourism industry.

‘Thank you for your assistance,’ Dominic said, and put down his phone. Faith looked up with a bright smile. Okay, she didn’t really know who this guy was, or what business he was in, but he could afford seven rooms at the Greyfriars, so he could get her out of Rome without having to call her family, which was the most important thing.

‘Let me tell you a little bit more about what I need,’ he said, and Faith nodded, her best attentive face on. ‘My name is Lord Dominic Beresford, and I run a number of businesses from my family’s estates.’ Faith’s stomach clenched at the name. Of course he looked familiar. She’d probably seen him on the society pages a dozen times when she lived in London, usually next to photos of her mother looking tipsy behind her fake smile, or her father charming another man’s wife. Or even of Faith herself, leaving the current London hotspot on the arm of someone very unsuitable. Lord Beresford, on the other hand, was always immaculately dressed and frowning.

‘I have six American businessmen and -women arriving in London tomorrow morning,’ Dominic went on, oblivious to the way her stomach was rolling. ‘I need you to meet and greet them, plan entertainment for the hours they’re not going to be in meetings, and accompany them on tours, the theatre, whatever you come up with.’ He gave her a sharp look. ‘Can you do it?’

Spend a week in the company of a man who could at any moment realise exactly who she was and expose her, all while avoiding anyone she knew in London, and working at the same time?

‘Of course I can.’

Dominic nodded. ‘Then we’ll talk salary on the plane. Finish your drink; we’ll go get you a ticket. But first...’ He picked up his phone again, tapped a speed-dial number, and waited.

Was that crying Faith could hear in the background?

‘Shelley?’ Dominic said, almost shouting to be heard. ‘Don’t worry. I’ve fixed it.’


CHAPTER TWO

HE’D ASKED THE wrong question, Dominic realised, later that evening. He shouldn’t have asked Faith if she could do the job. He should have asked her if she knew how to be quiet.

The answer was now startlingly obvious: no.

She’d chattered through the ticket line. All through security. Yammered on in the first-class lounge. And kept talking all the way to the gate and onto the plane.

And now they were cruising at thirty-two thousand feet, the cabin lights were dimmed, and she was still asking questions.

‘Have you taken clients on the London Eye before? What about up the Shard? I haven’t done that yet, but I’ve read reports...’

Grabbing another file from his briefcase, in the vain hope that the growing stack of them on the table in front of him might suddenly make her realise he was trying to work here, Dominic tried to tune out the chatter from the seat beside him. It wasn’t as if she took a breath long enough for him to answer anyway.

Why did she have to sit next to him? First class was practically empty. There were plenty of places for her to stretch out, watch a movie, sleep. Not talk.

‘Do you know if they’re theatre buffs? I can do some research on what’s the hottest show in town when we land. Or maybe the opera?’

Of course, there were plenty of other questions he should have asked, too. Like why she was so eager to come work for a total stranger for over a week. Did she need to get out of Rome? Or was she just homesick? Jobless? He should have asked for credentials, for references, for anything that proved who she was. He hadn’t even managed a glimpse of her passport as she handed it over to the ticket clerk.

It wasn’t like him to be so impulsive. Yes, he’d been in a corner and needed a quick fix. And okay, he’d wanted to prove to Shelley and Kevin that he could manage quite well without them, thank you. He was still the boss, after all.

But if he was honest with himself, he knew the real reason he’d hired Faith was because of her attitude. It took guts to walk up to a stranger in an airport and tell them to give you a job. Guts and desperation, probably. But if she had a reason for needing this job, she hadn’t let on. She’d focused entirely on what she could do for him, and it had worked.

Coupled with her curvaceous, striking appearance, that courage and determination meant she’d probably go far, in whatever she decided to do—if her blunt, frank manner didn’t get her into trouble first. She was the exact opposite of anything he’d look for in a woman normally, but Faith wasn’t a woman. Not to him, anyway. She was an employee, and that was a completely different thing.

Of course, she wasn’t exactly like his other employees, either. Shelley, outspoken as she could be now, hadn’t started that way. For the first year she hadn’t questioned anything, hadn’t complained, hadn’t offered an opinion. And she’d still never be seen dead in a skirt as tight as Faith’s. No, Shelley was beige suits and pastel blouses, where Faith was red lipstick and high heels.

Dominic didn’t even waste time on a mental comparison between Faith and Kevin.

‘And, uh, actually...I should have asked...’

Good grief, was there a question she hadn’t blurted out already?

With a sigh, Dominic looked up at her, only to find her plump lower lip caught between white teeth, and an uncertainty in her eyes for the first time since they met.

‘Yes?’ he asked, surprised by her sudden change in demeanour.

‘Will you want me to stay at the hotel with your guests?’

He blinked. ‘Well, yes. That would be easiest.’ He’d need to get an extra room, he realised. Efficient as she seemed to be, he could hardly leave his most important clients with a stranger for the next week. No, he’d need to stay there too, that much was obvious. But if Faith was staying in the hotel, at least he could delegate their more mundane requirements to her. ‘Unless you have a pressing need to stay somewhere else?’

‘No, no, it’s not that.’ She gave him a smile, an understated, nothing to worry about here smile. One he didn’t entirely trust. His mother had smiled like that, in the weeks before she left. ‘It’s just that I’ve been living in Rome for the last year and a half. I don’t actually have anywhere to stay in London.’

It was only when the muscles in his shoulders relaxed that Dominic realised they’d tensed at all. Of course she didn’t have anywhere to stay. That made perfect sense.

It didn’t entirely explain why she’d been so eager to leave Rome on a moment’s notice, with only a pull-along suitcase for company, but Dominic was sure he could persuade her to tell him that story, in time. He was a very persuasive man when he put his mind to it. And he really wanted to know what Faith was running away from. Just in case it was something he needed to defend his reputation against.

‘You’ll have a room at the hotel,’ he promised, before realising something else. ‘But we’ll need to see if we can get one for tonight, too.’

Faith glanced down at her watch, and he knew what she was thinking. By the time they got into London it would be the early hours. Anyone checking in last minute to a hotel at that kind of time wasn’t usually there on business. Not the legitimate sort, anyway.

‘Maybe it would be best if I checked into one of the airport hotels?’ she suggested. ‘That way, I’ll be on hand ready to meet your clients there in the morning.’

It made perfect sense. And suddenly Dominic couldn’t face the drive into London, all the way to his penthouse apartment, just in time to wake up and pack ready to move into a hotel for the week. ‘Good plan,’ he said. ‘As soon as we land you can book us both in.’

She flashed him a smile, this one more confident, more teasing. ‘Does that mean you’re trusting me with your credit card at last?’

He’d have to, he realised. She’d need a method of payment for all the things he’d asked her to do, to set up. Even if it was just having some petty cash to make sure she could buy the Americans a coffee if they needed it.

‘I’ll call the bank in the morning, get you set up with a card linked to my expenses account.’ The bank knew him well, and he certainly gave them enough business to request a favour. They could monitor the activity on that card. ‘In the meantime, I’ll provide you with some petty cash. A thousand should do it.’

‘Right.’ Her eyes were wide, he realised. She hadn’t expected him to actually hand over his money. She had to realise, from the way he’d casually paid for her incredibly expensive last-minute seat in first class, that money wasn’t much of an object to him these days. But it obviously was to her.

As was trust. Interesting.

Dominic had a feeling he had a lot still to learn about his latest employee.

But that could wait until London. ‘And now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got some work I’d like to finish before we land.’

She nodded, silent, and he turned back to his file, enjoying the peace and quiet. Who knew that all he had to do to stop Faith talking was offer her money and trust? If he’d have guessed, he would have tried it hours ago.

* * *

She couldn’t just sit there. Apart from anything else, it was boring. What was in those files that Dominic found so fascinating?

Faith wasn’t a sitting still and waiting kind of girl. She got fidgety.

Besides, the longer she sat there, staring out of the aeroplane window at the night skies, the more she imagined, in detail, every possible way this whole plan could go wrong. It wasn’t a pretty list.

He wanted to get her a credit card. Which meant he’d need her full name. She’d managed to avoid him seeing her passport information, just, but he’d have to have it for the bank. What did she do? If she gave him a fake name, the bank might not authorise the card and she’d have to explain everything anyway. No, the only option was to give him her real name, minus the assorted titles, and hope he didn’t recognise it.

At least Dominic didn’t seem like the sort to spend his mornings reading the society pages, however often he appeared in them.

She needed to know more about him, Faith decided. If she knew who he was, what mattered to him, she might be able to predict his response if he figured out who she was. Would he drag her back to her parents by her hair, as her great-uncle had threatened? Or would he out her to the media, like Antonio had said he would? Or would he let her slip back out of the country, quiet and safe, to carry on living her own life?

If only she could be sure.

Faith sighed and, beside her, Dominic made a small irritated sound. One thing was clear: she wasn’t going to find out all about her new employer by asking him questions when he was trying to work. No, she’d have to do this the modern way—Internet stalking. Surely the airport hotel would have free Wi-Fi?

‘Do you have to think so loudly?’ Dominic asked, reordering his papers again so half of them crept over the edge of the table, almost onto her lap.

‘I’m pretty sure thinking is, by definition, a fairly quiet activity,’ Faith said, shoving the papers back up onto the table.

‘Not the way you do it.’

Right. Well, if she couldn’t talk or think, maybe it was time to go and find something more interesting to do. Somewhere Dominic wasn’t.

‘Okay, let me out.’ She nudged her elbow against his side, and he looked up in surprise.

‘Where are you going?’ he asked.

‘Somewhere I can think without disturbing your hypersensitive hearing.’ Yes, he was difficult and crazy, but he was at least paying for her to get back home. Best not to totally annoy him this early in the game.

Shuffling his papers back into a neat stack, Dominic slid out of his seat, into the wide, wide aisle. God, she’d missed first class.

‘Don’t get into any trouble,’ he said, looking disturbingly like Great-Uncle Nigel.

Faith gave him her most winning, most innocent smile. ‘Me? I never get into trouble.’

And then, leaving him looking utterly unconvinced, she sashayed through towards business class to find some more interesting people to annoy with her questions and her thinking.

* * *

He was being ridiculous. How could it be harder to concentrate without Faith beside him, fidgeting, talking and thinking, than it was when she was there?

But somehow, it was.

Pushing his files across the table, since he clearly wasn’t going to be able to concentrate on them tonight, Dominic leant back in his seat and considered. Where would she have gone? They were on a plane, for heaven’s sake. It wasn’t as if she could have run away. If they’d been sitting in any other area of the aircraft, he’d have suspected her of running off to first class to try and win over the affections of a wealthy businessman.

He glanced around the small section of seats on his side of the curtain. No sign of her. The only other occupants—an elderly gentleman in a suit and a woman with a pashmina wrapped around her, almost covering her face—were both asleep.

Maybe she’d gone back to business class to find a new friend there. Maybe the promise of a job with him wasn’t enough. Maybe she just needed him for the flight home, and now she’d moved onto looking for her next opportunity...

Dominic forced himself to stop that line of thought. Just because certain women behaved that way, taking what they wanted then running, leaving destruction in their path, didn’t mean that Faith would. He should give her the benefit of the doubt. Hadn’t he just told her he trusted her enough to hand over a significant amount of money? Of course, money came easy to him, these days. Reputation was much harder won.

On the other hand, she was his employee. His responsibility.

The only responsible thing to do, really, was go find her.

To Dominic’s surprise, there was no sign of Faith in business class. He got some funny looks as he peered across darkened seats, trying to spot a dark, curly head, but he ignored them. Maybe she’d found a steward or something to talk to? At least she hadn’t been heading the right way to try and bother the pilot...

Pushing through the curtain, business class gave way to economy, where the occasional empty seats ended, replaced by cramped and crowded rows of people. Many were sleeping—it was the middle of the night, after all—but there were more screens and lights on than in either of the other sections. Dominic supposed it was harder to get some shut-eye when you were crammed in like cattle.

Faith must have disappeared into the bathroom, he decided. He just hoped that she was alone—the last thing his reputation needed was an article in the press about him and his employee being banned from an airline for joining the mile-high club. It wouldn’t matter to a reporter that Dominic hadn’t been the man with Faith at the time. Those sort of details never did, he’d found.

But then, as he turned back to try and get some more work done before landing, he spotted her and stopped, just to watch.

She was crouched down at the front of the economy section, just beside the seats with the space for a baby’s bassinet against the wall; he must have walked right past her on his way through. Her dark head was bent over a bundle in her arms, and when she looked up at the parents of the child she was holding, her face glowed. Smiling, she whispered away in rapid Italian, all while tucking in blankets and stroking the baby’s fine, downy hair.

This wasn’t what he’d expected. In fact, this wasn’t even recognisable as the woman he’d hired. Except... As he got closer, he caught a few English words scattered in her conversation. Big Ben. Madame Tussauds. The Tube.

A smile tugged at the corner of Dominic’s mouth. She was offering them tourist advice. Planning their trip to London with them.

Without drawing attention to himself, Dominic slipped past, back through the curtain to where his files were waiting.

Perhaps he had hired the right woman, after all.


CHAPTER THREE

IT TOOK FAITH a moment to remember where she was when she woke up the next morning. Smooth white cotton sheets, rain battering the window, the glow of a reading lamp she obviously hadn’t managed to turn off before she passed out the night before. Definitely not the flat she’d shared with Antonio and, given the rain, probably not even Rome.

No, Faith knew that rain. Knew that cold splatter and relentless fall.

She was in England. London.

Exactly where she shouldn’t be, ever again.

Faith buried her head deeper into the pillow, as if she could block out the grey and the rain and the sheer London-ness of it all. She hadn’t had a choice, she reminded herself. She’d made the best decision she could in a difficult situation.

But she couldn’t help but wonder about all the people she’d left behind when she ditched the city she loved the first time. Were they still there? What would she do if she saw one of them on the street? Turn and walk the other way, or brazen it out?

She guessed she wouldn’t know unless it happened.

Hopefully it wouldn’t. In and out, that was the key. Do the job, take the money and run.

So, back to the job. And her employer.

Dominic had chosen the most expensive of the airport hotels once they’d landed in Heathrow, which hadn’t really surprised her at that point. To be honest, she could have slept in a chair in the terminal, she was so tired. But the blissfully soft pillows and firm mattress of the hotel room were a definite improvement.

Reluctantly pushing herself up into a seated position, shoulders resting against the headboard, she tried to wake up enough to get a handle on the day ahead. Dominic had said the Americans were arriving around eleven, and it was only eight-thirty. So she had plenty of time to shower, dress...wait. What was she going to wear? She had her uniforms from the Roman Holiday Tour Company, she had her going-out-for-dinner dress and she had some jeans and plain T-shirts. She hadn’t exactly packed for corporate events when she’d left Rome. She’d packed for an overnight in London and then another tour.

It would have to be the uniforms, she supposed, for now at least. Maybe she could ask Dominic about an advance on her wages, or even a clothing allowance. Given the disapproving look he’d given her outfit in the bar the night before, she suspected he might be amenable.

A knock on the door dragged her thoughts away from her wardrobe and onto her growling stomach. Was that room service? Had she remembered to leave the breakfast card out the night before? She really hoped so. She was useless without a decent meal in the morning.

Swinging her legs out of bed, she glanced down at her rather skimpy red nightgown—a present from Antonio, of course. He never did have any concept of subtle. Still, she supposed that room service had probably seen much worse.

Except, when she yanked open the door with a smile, it wasn’t room service.

Dominic’s eyes travelled down over her body at an offensively quick speed. Any other man, Faith knew, would have lingered over her curves, outlined in red silk. Any other man would have enjoyed the view of her bare legs.

Her new employer, however, merely catalogued her attire and raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Do you always open your door dressed like a lingerie model?’

Faith felt the heat flush to her face. ‘I thought you were room service with breakfast.’

‘I’m afraid if you want breakfast you’ll have to get dressed. Assuming you have something more suitable to wear...’ His eyes flicked over her shoulder to where her skirt and blouse from the day before lay draped over a chair. Faith winced when she noticed the pale pink lace bra lying on top of them.

‘Actually, that was something I wanted to talk to you about...’

Dominic glanced at his watch. ‘No time. Get dressed and we’ll talk over coffee, before we head over to arrivals.’

‘I thought your clients didn’t get in until eleven?’ Faith asked, confused.

‘They don’t.’ Dominic was already walking away down the corridor. ‘But you need a briefing before they arrive.’

He turned a corner and was gone. Apparently busy executives didn’t have time to finish conversations properly. Or tell people where to meet them when they were decently dressed.

An elderly couple appeared at the end of the corridor and Faith realised, a little belatedly, that she was standing in the open in her really inappropriate nightie. Stepping back inside her room, she shut the door firmly behind her and headed for the shower.

Time to prove to Lord Dominic Beresford that she was capable of doing any job he needed doing, whatever she was wearing.

* * *

Good God, did she sleep in that every night? Even when she was alone and exhausted and straight off a plane, Faith managed to slip into a sexy little number for bed. Dominic shook his head. What kind of a devil temptress had he hired?

Unless, of course, she’d put it on especially for him that morning. Unless she planned to seduce and ruin him, just like Katarina had tried to do. Just like his mother had done to his father.

It was all still a little too neat. Dominic didn’t believe in coincidences, or serendipity, or any of the other things Faith had chattered about on the plane, her smile too wide, her lips too tempting. She’d been in exactly the right place at exactly the right time and, in his experience, that sort of thing didn’t happen without some forward planning.

Still, he did need a tour guide, and she seemed to be an adequate one. All he had to do was stay out of her way while she worked, and she’d never get the chance to put any sort of plans into action. It would be fine.

As soon as he could erase that image of her in fiery red silk from his brain.

Figuring she’d take an insane amount of time to shower and dress, Dominic headed down to the restaurant and ordered coffee while he perused the papers. He wasn’t much for breakfast, but he’d grab a piece of toast or some fruit when Faith joined him. They had too much to discuss to waste time on food.

However she’d come into his life, and whatever she hoped to get out of it, the only thing that mattered to Dominic was that she did the job he hired her to do: take care of his clients. He knew his strengths weren’t always in the socialising side of things—he’d generally rather be in his office. That was why his arrangement with Katarina had worked so well. She’d taken care of the smiling, small talk and looking interested side of things. He took care of the business.

Bloody Katarina. She was right up there with Shelley on his list of women determined to thwart him right now. He just hoped that Faith wouldn’t be added to it before she and the Americans left at the end of next week.

Sooner than he’d expected, Faith appeared at the entrance to the hotel restaurant. She waved a hand in his direction but, instead of heading for his table, she made for the breakfast buffet.

Holding in a sigh, Dominic watched as she bypassed the platters of fruit and the glass containers full of cereal. Instead, she loaded up her plate with eggs, bacon, sausage, beans, fried bread...and grabbed a side plate for a couple of mini pastries, too.

Apparently those curves were made entirely of breakfast.

‘Hungry?’ he asked, eyebrow raised, as she finally made it to the table.

Depositing her plates, Faith ripped off a bite of pain au chocolat as she dropped into her seat. ‘Starving. Do you think they’ll bring me some tea?’

His mother’s lessons in etiquette and good manners towards women were deeply ingrained, and Dominic found himself motioning over a waiter to request a pot of tea and more coffee for himself before he even realised he was doing it.

‘You’ve eaten already?’ Faith asked, after swallowing an enormous forkful of eggs and toast.

‘I don’t usually eat breakfast,’ he replied, folding his paper neatly across the middle and placing it on the empty table beside them. ‘Especially when I’ve an important day ahead.’

‘That’s just when you need it,’ Faith said, sounding eerily like a nanny he’d had when he was eight.

‘I’ve made it this far. I think I’ll survive. Now. To business.’ Casting his gaze over her outfit, he was relieved to find it less revealing than the day before, and certainly less fantasy-inducing than the silk concoction she’d had on first thing. The skirt, he realised, was the same as yesterday, but paired with a plain white T-shirt. Still, while the higher neckline hid the very tempting cleavage the blouse had displayed, it emphasised her curves even more.

I’m not thinking about this. I am not thinking about this.

Of any man alive, surely he knew better than most the perils of giving in to temptation and forgetting obligations. Faith was here to work, and that was all. He had to remember that.

‘Yes. Work,’ Faith said, bringing his attention back to the topic at hand. ‘I wanted to run through a few things with you, actually.’ To his surprise, she whipped a small notebook from her bag, uncapped a pen and sat poised to write down his answers. ‘First, can your office send me an itinerary for the week so I know exactly what you’ve got planned for your guests, and I can work around it? Also, it means I can make myself available if anyone has any questions between meetings.’

‘I’ll ask Kevin to fax one over,’ he said, trying to remember if Kevin even knew how to work the fax machine.

‘Great. Once I have that, I’ll put together a tentative itinerary and email it to you for your approval.’

‘You’ll need a laptop,’ Dominic realised, belatedly.

‘No need.’ Pulling a tablet computer from her bag, she waved it at him. ‘I use this.’

He blinked at her. ‘Well, great. Okay then.’

‘Next, do you have any background details on the clients themselves? Their lives, their families, their businesses, anything that I can use to get to know them?’

‘You do realise you’re a tour guide, not a dating service, right? You don’t need to find them their perfect match.’

Her face turned stony, and he regretted the joke. She was trying to do a good job, after all. He should be encouraging her, not ridiculing her.

‘These people are a long way from home for almost two whole weeks. It’s my job to make sure they enjoy themselves and feel comfortable here. Knowing a little about them makes that easier. I’ll talk to them myself when they arrive, of course, but a little forward knowledge would mean I can get going sooner.’

‘Of course,’ Dominic said contritely. ‘Well, their businesses I can tell you about. But, as for the rest of it...’ He spread his hands out. ‘Katarina used to handle that sort of thing, I’m afraid.’

* * *

Faith paused with her mini cinnamon swirl halfway to her mouth. Katarina. That was a new name. ‘Is Katarina your secretary?’ If so, she could call and ask her for all the gossip.

‘No. Not my secretary.’ Dominic shifted in his chair, looking sorry he’d ever mentioned the woman. Not a secretary. Then...

‘Your wife?’

He sighed, and reached for the coffee. ‘My ex-fiancée, actually. But, more pertinently, she runs the company we usually use for this sort of thing.’

‘But not this time,’ Faith said.

‘No. Not this time.’

‘Because you split up.’

Dominic gave her an exasperated look. ‘Can’t you ever take a hint to stop asking questions?’

Faith shrugged unapologetically. ‘I like to know exactly where I stand with things. Makes life a lot less complicated.’

‘Well, she doesn’t matter any more. She’s gone. You’re here now to take her place,’ Dominic said, entirely matter-of-fact.

Faith felt a peculiar squirming feeling in her stomach. ‘As a tour guide. Not as your fiancée.’

Dominic looked up, appalled. ‘That goes without saying!’

Faith flushed. ‘You don’t have to be quite so horrified at the prospect,’ she muttered.

‘Right. No. I just meant...’ He sighed. ‘This is a business arrangement, for both of us. Katarina...she’s out of the picture now, and I’m afraid you can’t really call her for insights on our guests.’

Now, that was interesting. Surely the woman would have an assistant or something that Faith could call for some notes. For Dominic to be so certain she wouldn’t help, something pretty dramatic had to have happened between them.

‘Bad break up?’ she asked.

‘The worst,’ Dominic groaned, and for the first time since she’d met him in that airport bar he seemed human. Normal. As if he had actual emotions and feelings, rather than a sensor that told him when to be disapproving of something.

‘Want to talk about it?’ she asked.

‘Not even a little bit.’ He didn’t leave any room for discussion.

Oh well. Human moment over.

‘Okay, well, if you can’t tell me about them as people, you must be able to tell me why they’re here. What’s the very important business you have with them?’

Dominic leaned back in his chair. ‘I’m looking to expand the activities and operations we have running on the Beresford estate. We’re considering buying up some neighbouring land to build on, as well as utilising the Beresford family’s London properties.’

In which case, Faith thought, they’d be one of the only aristocratic families to actually increase their family estates in generations. ‘So these guys are your investors?’

Dominic nodded. ‘Potential investors. But also potential clients. They want to see what we have on offer, and possibly use Beresford Hall in the future for international corporate retreats.’

‘Okay, that helps. Now, they’ve visited London before, right? I don’t suppose you’ve got a record of what they’ve seen and done...?’ Dominic winced. ‘No. Of course not.’

Faith sighed. Looked as if she was doing this the hard way. In which case, she really needed a kick-ass outfit to give her confidence.

‘Okay, since you can’t actually give me any practical help to do my job—’

‘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.

She’d thought she’d managed it, once she left school and moved to London. Thought she was her own person for once. Except it was so easy to fall in with people who she realised, too late, only wanted her for her title. Women who had closets of spare outfits to dress her up in, dresses and skirts that cost a fortune but barely had the structural integrity to survive a night of dancing and drinking at whatever club they used her name to get into.

They definitely weren’t the sort of clothes Dominic wanted her wearing on this job.

Later, living abroad, alone and with only her seasonal tour earnings to keep her, clothing hadn’t been a priority. She’d been her own person for the first time ever, and she hadn’t had to dress a certain way to prove it. The sense of freedom, of relief, was enough. So she had uniforms for work and a small, flexible, casual wardrobe for the rest of the time.

Dominic had been right about one thing—not that she’d admit it to him—this new job required new clothes.

But she’d be damned if she was spending the next week and a half in one plain, boring suit.

She didn’t have long, so she worked a strike attack formula, identifying the three closest mid-range high street stores most likely to stock the sort of thing she needed. In the first, she picked up two skirts—one grey, one black—and a couple of bright cardigans. In the next, a jacket, three blouses and a lightweight scarf. The last shop took the largest chunk of her money, but in return provided her with a pair of low heels that looked professional, but that she could walk miles in. When she mixed in the plain T-shirts, underwear, bag, dress, make-up and jewellery she’d brought with her from Rome, she thought she was pretty much prepared for anything Lord Dominic Beresford could throw at her that week.

Stepping out of the last shop, laden with bags, she checked her watch. Five minutes left. Just enough time to change.

It was strangely gratifying to walk into the coffee shop and realise that Dominic hadn’t even recognised her. He glanced up when she walked in, but his gaze flicked quickly away from her and back to the clock on the wall. He expected her to be late.

Dumping her bags on an empty chair, she dropped into the seat opposite him and grinned as his eyes widened. This time, he studied her carefully, taking in the jacket and blouse—worn over her white T-shirt to ensure maximum modesty in the cleavage department—and the way she’d pinned her hair back from her face.

She gave him a minute to appreciate the transformation, then said, ‘This works for you?’

Dominic nodded.

‘Great.’ Grabbing his coffee from in front of him, she drained the last inch of caffeine. ‘Then let’s go meet your clients.’

* * *

He had to stop looking at her. What kind of a professional impression did it make if he couldn’t stop staring at his employee? It was just...a transformation. Faith looked respectable, efficient, and yet still utterly herself. And he still didn’t quite understand how she’d managed to make his money stretch to the bags and bags of shopping he’d had to send back to the hotel before they headed to arrivals.

Now, while his driver loaded up their suitcases and Faith’s shopping at the hotel, they were waiting in the arrivals hall for the next flight in from JFK. He could have sent a driver to meet them, Dominic supposed, but Kat had always hammered home the importance of the personal touch. And since she wasn’t here to be personal any longer, that just left him. And Faith.

His gaze slid left again, taking in the way she gripped her fingers tightly in her other hand. Was she nervous? Did Faith really get nervous? It seemed unlikely.

‘They’re a nice bunch,’ he said awkwardly, in an attempt to set her mind at ease.

‘I’m sure.’

‘They’ll like you.’

She rolled her eyes at him. ‘Of course they will. Being likeable is part of my job description.’

‘Really?’ Dominic glanced at her again. ‘You don’t seem to be trying that hard with me.’

Faith flapped a hand at him. ‘Don’t lie, you adore me. Besides, you matter less.’

‘I am the boss,’ he reminded her. Just in case she’d forgotten. He was starting to wonder...

‘Yeah. So you’ll be taking care of them in meetings and things, right? I’ll be with them the rest of the time. When they’re having fun. So it’s important they think I’m a fun person to be around. You’ll probably be back in the office by then anyway, so what do you care?’

It should set his mind at ease, Dominic thought, knowing that she wasn’t expecting him to be around all the time, holding her hand through this job. She obviously believed she was capable enough to get on with it alone. And, against the odds, he was starting to believe that too.

So why was he mentally reshuffling his calendar to figure out which evenings he could join them on their tours and outings?

‘You’re right,’ he said, shaking away the uncomfortable thought. ‘As long as you keep them entertained and happy, that’s all that matters.’

‘Good.’ Faith nodded, then sucked in a breath as the words and numbers on the display board changed again. ‘Because they’re here.’

* * *

She was not afraid. She was not afraid. She was not afraid.

She’d done this a million times before. The meet and greet was the most important part, sure—people tended to stick with their first impressions, even when they claimed not to. But she was good at this. Good at smiling and welcoming and helping and making people feel at home.

So why were her hands clammy?

Maybe it was the clothes. Maybe she should have gone with the stupid suit...

‘That’s them,’ Dominic said, and then it was too late to worry about any of it anyway, because they were surging forward into handshakes and smiles and polite greetings. Faith beckoned over the driver who’d met them in the arrivals hall to start collecting bags onto a trolley, glad of something real and useful to do. Something she knew and understood. How could she have thought that looking after a group of high-powered businesspeople in London would be the same as shepherding holidaying Brits around Italy? They were already launching into conversations with Dominic that she couldn’t even begin to follow. The three letter acronyms alone were baffling.

The drive into London, in a spacious limo complete with high-end coffee machine, at least gave her a chance to get her latest charges straight in her head. There was Henry, large and jocular—easy to remember, as long as she kept picturing Henry VIII when she looked at him. Next was Bud, skinnier in the face but a little rotund around the middle. Like a bottle of beer. Perfect.

The first two names fixed, she turned to the next pair. Both in navy suits, both dark-haired, both serious-looking. Thank God one of them wore glasses or she’d be getting them confused all week. Their names, however, were even easier—an improbable ice cream concoction of Ben and Jerry. As long as she remembered that Jerry had the glasses, she was golden.

The last two of Dominic’s clients were easy, too. The blonde woman in the fantastic red suit was Marie, which made Faith think of Marilyn, which made her think of Monroe. And the brunette in the more severe black trouser suit with spectacular heels was Terri, who could just be the one she couldn’t think of a great mnemonic for. Five out of six wasn’t bad.

With everyone straight in her head, Faith settled back in her seat to nurse her espresso, and try to make some sort of sense of the conversation. She followed the discussion about land purchase and architects all right, until they started throwing out figures and referencing forms. She sighed to herself and decided she needed to have attended at least six months of previous meetings to even begin to understand.

‘I’m guessing this is kinda dull for you,’ Ben—no, glasses! Jerry—said, leaning in to whisper close to her ear.

‘Not dull,’ Faith objected. ‘Just...not my area of expertise.’

Jerry’s eyes flashed down to her blouse. ‘And what exactly is that? Dominic didn’t say.’

‘Faith is your tour guide for the week,’ Dominic said sharply, from the other end of the car. Faith looked up in surprise; she hadn’t realised he was paying any attention to her. And how had he even heard Jerry from there?

Suddenly all attention was on her. Plastering on her best social smile, Faith said, ‘That’s right. So if you’ve any thoughts on places you’d like to go, things you’d like to see, just let me know!’

‘Oh, I can think of a couple,’ Jerry murmured, still looking at her breasts. Faith shuffled a little further away, until her leg pressed up against the car door.

Looking up, she saw Dominic glaring at her. He couldn’t have heard Jerry’s latest comment, but surely he had to know this wasn’t her idea?

Or not. Turning his attention back to his clients, Dominic launched into another highly dense and baffling business conversation. Faith listened for a moment until she spotted Marie giving her a sympathetic smile. Then, tuning out the figures and the jargon, she pulled her tablet from her bag and started planning the week ahead.

She might not understand Dominic’s job, but she was damn good at her own, thank you.

* * *

Dominic needed to get out of cars and hotels and into the office. How was he expected to concentrate on the finer details of the outstanding contract when one of his clients was hitting on Faith?

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.

Her finger paused over another link. This one was harder to justify. This one, if she was honest, was just Faith being incurably nosy. As usual. It really wasn’t any of her business what Katarina Forrester got up to, or why she’d split up with Dominic.

Of course, she pressed it anyway.

And was instantly glad that she’d turned off the sound on the tablet. The video that sprang to life was really not one to be watching in public. Eyes wide, she paused it, then stared for a moment longer before closing the window down. That had to be Katarina, with that long blonde hair let loose from the chignon it had been contained by in every other photo. But the naked guy there with her? Definitely not Dominic.

Well, she supposed that answered the question of why they’d broken up. And it kind of made her wonder exactly what she’d find if she Googled her own name. Possibly best not to know.

Except...she was back in Britain, working the kind of job that might get her spotted at any minute. Wasn’t it better to know what was out there waiting for her if she was recognised?

Before she could change her mind, Faith tapped out her real name in the search bar and waited to see what popped up, apprehension stirring in her chest.

At the top of the page, a row of photos loaded. Two of her looking bleary-eyed in a too-short dress, blinking at the camera as she left some nightclub. The rest...all from that night. Or, rather, the morning after.

God, was it really even her? She barely recognised the woman she was now in the girl on the screen. She’d thrown away the clothes she wore in the photos—the tight black jeans and the corset top, moulding her curves and pushing up her breasts. Her hair was shorter than it was now, just curling around her jawbone. The hotel name, high end and far more expensive than she’d have been able to afford on her own, was clearly visible in the back of the shots.

And on her arm, Jared Hawkes, a little too pale and scowling, but otherwise giving no indication of the hellish night before. Or that he was about to go home and beg his wife for another chance.

No, the photo looked exactly like what everyone had believed it was—a money-grabbing girl stealing a famous, and famously troubled, rock star away from his patient, wonderful wife and adoring kids.

The guilt had faded over the years. She’d made a lot of mistakes when she was younger, sure, but who hadn’t? And this one, that one time, she really hadn’t done anything wrong, as much as the world’s media had tried to convince her—and everyone else—otherwise. It had taken her a while to accept that and forgive herself, after she dropped out of the public eye. But she was done with guilt. All she had left now was the resentment, and the pain of the injustice.

Faith clicked the browser closed. She didn’t need to see any more.

She took a large gulp of coffee and tried to clear her head. Time to get back to the matter at hand—finding somewhere to take the Americans that evening.

She took her time perusing the usual websites, and also reading the best London blogs, to get some more unusual ideas. She’d forgotten how much there was to do and see in London, how much she loved being there. Sure, Rome was romantic as hell and had plenty to offer, but London...it was more of a patchwork. More bits and pieces and scraps from all across history, and across humanity. She liked that in a city.





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