by Sarah Morgan
No. No, it wasn’t safe. Her entire existence was balancing on a knife edge.
Evie had a sudden urge to confess that the manager had tried it on with her, but stopped herself in time. She didn’t want to upset her grandfather. And she also had a sneaking worry that he might somehow get on a train, find his way to London and deal with Carlos Bellini personally. Despite his eighty-six years, her grandfather was a real man.
‘My job is…it’s…well, it’s great,’ she said firmly. ‘Really good.’
‘Going to any Christmas parties? I’m sure you’ll be able to have your pick of men if you do! And you won’t be able to make it through the Christmas season without singing The Twelve Days of Christmas at the top of your voice. You know you always love doing that.’
‘No parties planned. And I’m not quite ready to meet another man yet, Grandpa.’ Dragging the bag behind her, Evie slithered towards the van. As she let go of it, the top gaped open and her tiny silver Christmas tree tumbled into the snow and slush. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.’ A lump in her throat, she stared at her Christmas tree, which was now lying in a puddle. Her whole life felt as though it was sinking into a puddle.
‘Don’t hang around, Evie. I’m not getting any younger. Next year I want to be bouncing a great-grandchild on my knee.’
What? ‘I’ll do my best, Grandpa.’ Wondering how on earth she was going to fulfil that particular wish when she couldn’t find a man who wanted to talk to her, let alone sleep with her, Evie forced out a cheery goodbye and dropped the phone back in her pocket.
As she retrieved the dripping Christmas tree, the man drove off, showering her with slush.
It was snowing steadily and Evie was just wondering whether it was worth wading through the contents of the bag to find her umbrella when her phone rang again.
‘Why am I suddenly the most popular person in the world?’ Looking at the number flashing on her phone, she groaned. Oh, no. ‘Tina? I know I’m late, but I’ve—’ she flinched as her boss gave her a sharp lecture ‘—yes, I know Salvatorio Zaccarelli is arriving tomorrow and—yes, I know it’s important because he’s looking at the way the hotel is run and we’re all under scrutiny. Yes, I know I was lucky you gave me another chance with this job when you could have fired me—’ She gritted her teeth as she listened. ‘I—yes, the Penthouse will be perfect, I promise—I’m lucky that Carlos wants me to do the job personally—I do know Mr Zaccarelli is the most important guest we ever have—I know he doesn’t suffer fools and won’t tolerate anything less than perfection—’ the guy was obviously a cold, heartless pig ‘—I feel the same way,’ Evie lied, making a mental note not to be anywhere near the scary, ruthless tycoon when he arrived at the hotel. The way she was feeling at the moment, she’d probably punch him. That was one ‘meet and greet’ that was not going to happen. If she saw him coming she was going to dive for cover.
Tina was still talking and Evie slithered her way towards the bus stop, the rubbish bag banging against her legs, her clothes soaked through. Snow landed on her hair and water dripped down her neck. ‘—Festive? Sparkling? Yes, I’m going to decorate the Christmas tree—I’ll be there ever so soon, but I just need to—’ she broke off; I just need to find somewhere to sleep tonight when I come off my shift at midnight ‘—catch a bus. The buses are mad because of Christmas, but I’m on my way now.’ All she ever did was tell lies, Evie thought, struggling with the bag. She lied to protect her grandfather from more worry and she lied to Tyrannosaurus Tina because, until she’d found something better, she couldn’t tell the woman where to stick her job. Maybe she should suggest to scary Salvatorio Zaccarelli that the first person he should fire was the manager of his flagship hotel.
As she sat on the crowded bus, jammed between stressed out Christmas shoppers, Evie wondered if she should have just told her grandfather the truth. That London was lonely. That she missed him. That she’d been demoted after just days in her new job by a boss who hated her. Apparently, she’d been too friendly.
Evie sighed, well aware that she’d probably been a little too desperate for human company. But she still didn’t understand why that was a crime. As a receptionist in a hotel, how could you be too friendly? Anyway, she had no opportunity to be friendly now because, as a member of the housekeeping staff, she didn’t often meet any guests. She didn’t meet anyone. She’d taken to talking to herself as she cleaned bathroom mirrors.
Trying to take her mind off it, Evie picked up a discarded magazine and flicked through the pages, staring gloomily at the slender models wearing the magazine’s recommendations for glittery dresses perfect for the party season. Apparently, silver was bang on trend. Absently, she picked the one she would have worn if she had money and had actually been invited to a party. Shimmering silver, she thought, with diamonds and swept up hair. Except that she’d look ridiculous dressed like that.
Face it, Evie, you’re a bit of a freak.
Hearing Jeff’s voice in her head, she dropped the magazine back on the seat, jumped off the bus and walked towards the back entrance of the prestigious hotel that provided a bolt-hole for the world’s rich and famous. She was just wondering where she was going to hide a rubbish bag when a sleek black Mercedes drove through a puddle and muddy water sprayed over her tights and shoes.
‘Oh, for—’ Hopping to one side, soaking wet, Evie glared after the expensive car, imagining the warm, luxurious interior. ‘Thanks a lot. Just as long as you’re comfortable in your cosy, rich cocoon.’ Her eyes widened in disbelief as she read the number plate. ‘TYCOON.’ Drenched and shivering, she wondered what it was like to live a life of luxury, filled with diamonds, shimmering silver dresses and ostentatious car accessories.
‘Hi, Evie, you’re late.’ A colleague hurried past her in a cloud of perfume and hairspray. ‘You’ve already missed the staff briefing. Tina said you were to go straight to the Penthouse because she doesn’t have time to waste with you. The big boss is arriving tomorrow. Rumour has it that he is going to axe anyone who doesn’t fit. Even Creepy Carlos is nervous. Personally, I can’t wait to see Rio Zaccarelli in person. He’s the most stunningly good-looking man I’ve ever seen.’
Chilled to the bone, Evie sneezed. ‘You’ve never seen him.’
‘I’ve seen him in pictures. Red-hot Rio, that’s what we’re calling him.’
‘Ruthless Rio is what I’m calling him,’ Evie muttered and her colleague frowned at the bag in her hand.
‘Since when have you been responsible for dealing with the trash?’
‘Oh, I like to be helpful. Versatile, that’s me—’ Evie pinned a rigid grin on her face, refusing to admit that she was carrying her home around. Like a snail, she thought, as she followed the girl through the glass door and into the plush, privileged warmth of a different life. Maybe there was a number plate that spelled out DISASTER. She could stick it on her back to warn people she was coming.
Hiding her bag in the basement behind some large pipes, Evie took refuge in the peaceful elegance of the Penthouse suite. She felt so utterly miserable that, for the first time since her aborted wedding and humiliating demotion, she was relieved that she wasn’t on Reception, having to smile and be cheerful. She didn’t want to meet and greet. She just wanted to curl up in a ball and not emerge until her life had improved.
The warm, spacious luxury of the top floor suite made her feel instantly calmer and Evie looked around her wistfully. Two deep white sofas faced each other across a priceless rug and flames flickered in the fireplace. Huge floor to ceiling windows gave views over Hyde Park and the elegant buildings of Knightsbridge.
Someone had put a large fir tree next to the grand piano and boxes of decorations were neatly stacked, ready for Evie to create a perfect Christmas.
A perfect Christmas for someone else.
‘Imagine spending Christmas somewhere like this,’ she murmured, talking to herself as she explored the Penthouse suite. ‘Talk about how the other half live.’
Feeling incredi
bly down, Evie set to work decorating the tree, trying not to think about the times she’d done the same thing with her grandfather. Last year they’d shared a wonderful Christmas. She’d baked Christmas cake and Christmas puddings and roasted a turkey just for the two of them. They’d eaten leftovers for weeks. Turkey curry, turkey soup, turkey sandwiches—
Only a few weeks later, her grandfather had suffered a mini stroke and she’d had no choice but to agree to let him go into the home where his friends were. They’d sold his cottage to pay the exorbitant fees and now she was miles away in a city where no one spoke to anyone except to ask directions.
And she had nowhere to sleep tonight. The thought terrified her and for a moment she considered confessing to Tina and asking if she had any free rooms. Imagining the response she’d get, a hysterical laugh bubbled up from the cauldron of panic that was simmering inside her. Tina would simply remind her that one night in the cheapest room in this hotel was more than her monthly salary.
Merry Christmas, Evie.
She worked without a break, twisting lights through the branches of the enormous tree, hanging glittering silver baubles and filling vases with elaborate displays of holly. Then she started to clean the Penthouse. She was only halfway through when the door opened and Carlos, the hotel manager, strode in.
Evie was immediately on the defensive, horribly aware that she was alone with him and that her mobile phone was in her coat pocket at the other end of the room.
She’d avoided him since the day he’d tried to kiss her and she stood warily, her mind scrambling through her options. They were pitifully few. He ran the hotel and held her future in the palm of his hand. Unfortunately, he’d made it clear that he wanted to hold other bits of her in the palm of his hand, too.
His hair shone greasily under the lights and Evie shuddered, bracing herself for criticism.
Was he looking for an excuse to fire her?
‘It looks perfect. Incredibly Christmassy. Just what I wanted for Rio.’ Something about his smile made her uneasy.
‘You’re sure you like it?’
‘Absolutely.’ His eyes trailed over her body. ‘You’re wet.’
Evie stood rigid, wondering why the only man to pay her any attention had to be a total creep.
‘It’s snowing. I had to wait for a bus.’
‘I don’t want my staff catching pneumonia. Take a hot shower.’
She felt herself blush. ‘I can’t afford the time. I still have loads to do and my shift ends in thirty minutes.’
‘You’re on again first thing tomorrow morning.’ Carlos frowned. ‘Stay here tonight. That way, you can start work straight away. I want everything perfect.’
He was giving her permission to stay in the hotel?
Unable to believe her luck, Evie almost sobbed with relief. ‘That would be helpful,’ she said casually. ‘Do we have a spare room?’
‘No, we’re full. But you can stay here. In the Penthouse.’
Evie looked at him stupidly. ‘Here?’
‘Why not? Rio isn’t arriving until tomorrow afternoon. Your shift ends at midnight and begins again at seven in the morning. It makes perfect sense for you to stay here. Sleep on top of the bed if it bothers you. I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed.’
Evie stared at him, her instincts on full alert. ‘You’re suggesting that I stay in the Penthouse?’
‘Why not? It isn’t doing anyone any harm and I owe you a favour.’ He hesitated. ‘Evie, I apologise if I came on a little strong a few weeks ago. I misread the signals.’
She hadn’t given him any signals. ‘I’d rather forget that.’ Evie, feeling horribly awkward, was nevertheless relieved by his surprise apology. Perhaps he wasn’t trying to find reasons to fire her. ‘How is your finger?’
‘Healing.’ Carlos flexed his bandaged finger and gave a rueful smile. ‘Seriously, Evie. Stay here tonight. It’s in the interests of the hotel—you’ll get more work done if you’re here on the premises.’
What he said made sense.
So why was she hesitating? She’d have somewhere warm to stay and she could start searching for another place tomorrow. ‘All right. Thanks. If you’re sure.’
‘Do you have any dry clothes?’
Evie thought of the bag of belongings she’d left in the basement. ‘I have a…a bag downstairs.’
‘I’ll arrange for someone to collect it. Where did you leave it?’
Flanked by his security team, Rio Zaccarelli left his private jet under the cover of darkness and slid into the waiting car.
‘No press—that’s good.’ Antonio, his senior bodyguard, scanned the area. ‘No one knows you’re coming. Do you want us to call ahead and warn the hotel? They’re expecting you in the afternoon, not at four in the morning.’
‘No.’ Rio lounged in the back of the car, his eyes hooded as he contemplated the surprise that would no doubt accompany his unexpected arrival. ‘I don’t want to announce myself.’
Knowing never to question the boss, Antonio simply slammed the car door shut and slid in next to the driver. ‘Shouldn’t take us long to get there at this hour. No traffic. I suppose it’s because it’s Christmas. Lots of people have already stopped work.’
Rio didn’t reply.
A cold feeling spread across his skin. A feeling that had nothing to do with the dropping temperature and the swirling snowflakes outside the car. He looked out of the window, keeping his expression blank.
Christmas.
Twenty years had passed and yet he still hated this time of year.
If he had his way, Christmas would be scrubbed from the calendar.
Blocking out the endless twinkling lights and Christmas decorations adorning the dark streets, Rio was for once grateful for the endless demands of his BlackBerry.
Anna, the ballerina, had sent him fourteen messages, each one more desperate than the last.
He read the first three, saw the word ‘commitment’ and deleted the rest without reading them. Christmas, commitment—why was it that his least favourite words all began with C?
The car pulled up outside the hotel and Rio sat for a moment, surveying the elegant architecture. It was the most expensive few acres of real estate in the world.
You’ll never make anything of yourself, Rio. You’ll amount to nothing.
Rio gave a grim smile as he surveyed ‘nothing’.
He owned it. All of it. Every last brick. Not bad for someone who had once watched his life ground into the dirt.
Leaning forward, he spoke to his driver in Italian. ‘Take me to the rear entrance.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Rio sprang from the car and walked through the rear door of the hotel, his mouth tightening in disapproval as no one challenged him.
Antonio was right behind him. ‘I’ll go first.’
‘No. I want you to go back downstairs and check those security cameras. And time how long it takes them to discover I’m in the building.’ Rio sprinted up ten floors and reached the locked door that protected the exclusive Penthouse suite. He entered a code into the pad and the door opened. Realising that no one had changed the code, his mouth tightened and a dangerous spark lit his eyes.
Inside the luxurious suite, it was warm and peaceful.
And decorated for Christmas.
Rio froze.
He’d given strict instructions—no decorations.
His tension levels rocketing, his gaze fastened on the tall fir tree that glittered and sparkled in the elegant living room, taunting him—reminding him.
Turning his back on it, he prowled through the suite. His instincts, honed through years of dealing with people, were suddenly on full alert. Something didn’t feel right and it wasn’t just that his express instructions had been overlooked.
His firm mouth hardened and he walked purposefully towards the bedroom suite, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet.
Pushing open the door, Rio stopped on the threshold of the room.
Lying on to
p of the bed was a naked woman, her glorious red hair spilling over the pillow like a spectacular sunset, her eyelashes forming a dark smudge above pale cheeks. Her mouth was a deep pink, her lower lip full and softly curved.
Rio stared at that mouth for a full minute before trailing his gaze down the rest of her body. It wasn’t just her mouth that curved. The rest of her did, too, although some of the secrets of her body were concealed beneath all that glorious hair. As he studied the astonishingly vibrant colour, he felt his libido come alive. His mind computed every last detail. Eyes—green, he decided. Temper—hot. Body—incredible. She had the longest legs he’d ever seen and, as for the rest of her—
When she didn’t stir, he strolled into the room.
Distracted by the full curve of her breasts, he sat down on the edge of the bed and slid a leisurely hand over her shoulder, brushing aside a strand of silky hair.
Unable to resist the sensual curve of her soft mouth, Rio lowered his head and kissed her. He just had time to register that she tasted as good as she looked when her eyes opened.
Deliciously groggy, she stared at him blankly. ‘Oh—’ Her words were slurred from sleep. ‘Is it Christmas?’
If this was Christmas, then maybe it was time he re-evaluated his feelings towards the festive season. Perhaps it wasn’t all bad. Blue, Rio thought absently, correcting his earlier assumption. Her eyes were the palest aquamarine.
Lust shot through him and he felt himself harden. Because he was staring down at her, he saw the exact moment she was gripped by the same sexual awareness. Those incredible eyes darkened. Her lips parted and he saw the moist tip of her tongue.
Unable to help himself, Rio lowered his head and was about to kiss her again when a light flashed.
He whipped round in time to see a man darting from the room, camera in hand.
Swearing under his breath in Italian, Rio moved with a speed that would have impressed an Olympic sprinter, but the man was already out of the door.