Her current excitement and anticipation wouldn’t allow her to concentrate on a film any more than a book, so she decided to go and explore the hotel a little. Rolling off the bed and grabbing the shoes she’d left by the door, she figured she’d find her way from her room to the PR & Marketing Suite. It’d be closed, of course, but at least she’d know where she was going in the morning. She didn’t want to be late on her very first day.
Chapter Seven
Four weeks later, and Fiona still occasionally got lost in the hotel, but otherwise things were going well. The job itself was incredible. She was constantly learning and improving, and she’d found that she had a genuine interest in—and liking for—PR. It helped, of course, that the very thing she was aiming to get publicity for was an amazing, unique hotel in a worldwide chain of amazing, unique hotels. It meant that press releases she wrote, pitches she made and phone calls she engaged in weren’t simply a mish-mash of carefully placed words and phrases designed to make the place sound great. It really was great and pretty much sold itself.
But they weren’t the only luxury hotel out there. Mayfair was full of them. London was full of them. The UK was full of them. So it was up to her to get creative, to find new ways of getting the press interested in writing about them or featuring them in some way, in order to catch the eyes of potential guests. Sophia helped a lot, as part of her training, but Fiona was eager to stand on her own two feet, to come up with something completely her own and really show Sophia and the rest of the team what she was made of.
This plan found her wandering the rooms, corridors and public areas of the hotel, a tablet in her hand and a thoughtful expression on her face. She had it in mind that she wanted to create a campaign that would entice more regular folk to come and stay at the Totally Five Star. Yes, they still had to make sure their standards were such that their usual clientele would continue to stay with them whenever they were in the area and recommend them to friends, colleagues and business associates. But these were people for whom money was no object. The biggest, plushest suites were full all the time—even during the week. What Fiona wanted to do was pull in people who’d stay in one of the regular rooms—though even those were a far cry from a Premier Inn or Travelodge—and still find it to be a completely amazing, luxurious experience.
The angle she needed was that these people would be treating themselves, splashing out. Special birthdays, anniversaries, engagements. Causes for celebration. Maybe even a staycation for people who either didn’t want to—or for some reason, couldn’t—leave the country. They could still have a fantastic time away, get pampered, be looked after, relax…just as they would if they’d zipped off somewhere abroad.
London, of course, had the added bonus of having an abundance of things to do. If guests wanted to stay inside the hotel and take advantage of the world-class facilities, so be it. But if they wanted to venture into the city, they would have endless choices of entertainment—there was certainly something for everyone.
Her brain whirring with the possibilities, she tapped away on the screen, making notes, and flipping to the camera function every now and again to take a snap of something that stood out to her or inspired her in some way. It was an insane jumble of photos and text she’d be downloading to her computer when she returned to her desk, but it was a jumble that would hopefully spark her creativity and allow her to come up with something awe-inspiring.
It was easy enough to put herself into the mindset of someone who wasn’t rich, but who would be staying at the Totally Five Star. So it was a simple task to look around her and imagine how people would want to spend their time. Sipping exotic cocktails at the bar, maybe. Indulging in afternoon tea. Having beauty treatments, massages, saunas. Swimming. Leafing through weighty, rare tomes in the library. Wandering in the private gardens. Admiring the stunning views from the rooftop garden, even.
Her own wandering had brought her closest to the bar restaurant just off the lobby, so she decided to go and tuck herself away in a corner there, do some discreet people watching, make notes and maybe pick up some more inspiration. She was glad she had the kind of boss who would let her go off and do this sort of thing, rather than being chained to a desk all the time and expected to churn out sparkling copy and snappy press releases. But then, she supposed that was the nature of being in a creative role. Not everything was as simple as putting fingers to a keyboard and hoping something awesome appeared on the screen.
Plus, if Sophia had thought she was the type of person who’d use this time to slack off, she wouldn’t have been offered the role in the first place. Yes, she was being given some freedom, but she was also expected to get the job done—and done to perfection. Naturally, perfection was Fiona’s aim, but if she couldn’t quite achieve that, she’d be more than happy with doing her very best.
She’d barely parked her bottom on a chair when one of the waiters whizzed over. She’d seen him around, but didn’t know him. The hotel was so big that she was sure it’d take a while before she’d met all the other members of staff, never mind memorized their names. Thankfully, classy, discreet name badges were part of the uniform for customer-facing personnel, so she took a peek.
“Hi, Jeremy,” she said, smiling at him.
He looked a little taken aback at being spoken to before he’d had a chance to greet her. “Oh, hello, madam.”
Still smiling, she waved a hand dismissively. “I work here, Jeremy. You don’t need to call me madam.” She indicated the tablet. “I’m the new PR assistant. I’ve been having a good explore of the place—getting lost is becoming less frequent, luckily—and thought I’d tuck myself away here and do some people watching to get some inspiration for a campaign.”
“Oh, I see,” he replied, grinning. “You don’t, uh, have a name badge.”
Heat came to her cheeks as she realized her mistake. “I’m so sorry. I’m Fiona.” She held her hand out, and they shook. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve seen you around, but there are just so many people working here. I can’t keep track of everyone.”
“Yeah, I get it. I was the same when I first started. Fortunately, staff turnover here is really low, so you’ll get there in the end. It’s nice to meet you too, by the way. Can I get you anything?”
“Uh, yeah. That would be great. If I look like a regular customer, people might not notice me people watching. Can I have some fruit juice, please? I don’t mind what flavor.”
“Ice?”
“No thanks.”
With a nod, Jeremy zoomed off to get her drink. Fiona gave a contented sigh as she thought about the perks of her job. Although what she ate and drank wasn’t free, exactly—an amount was taken from her salary for her board and lodgings—it was heavily subsidized. She was paying less ‘rent’ now than she’d been in the flat, and needless to say, her living standards had increased. After all, she hadn’t had unlimited use of two swimming pools, spa facilities, saunas, steam rooms, gym equipment… The list went on. She wasn’t sure she’d ever feel the need to have someone else shine her shoes—however, it was fun to know that the option was there.
The best part was that all the facilities were open twenty-four hours, so if she didn’t finish working until nine o’clock at night—though her contracted hours were nine to four-thirty, sometimes she had to work extra time to get projects finished or take care of urgent requests—she could still go and have twenty minutes in the sauna and a nice, relaxing swim or perhaps chill out in the Jacuzzi for a while.
It was something it had taken her a while to work up to, though. Despite knowing it was allowed, Fiona felt a bit like an impostor using facilities that were for paying guests—paying guests that were often famous or very important. Sometimes both. Not that those people knew that she wasn’t important, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of place.
She was slowly growing used to mingling, for want of a better word, with the guests while using the various facilities, and it was also how she’d been slowly meeting a
nd getting to know other members of staff. Not the sort of person to go and knock on her neighbor’s door and say hello, Fiona had waited until she’d more organically bumped into someone before introducing herself. And this had happened a few times in the sauna, pool area and gym. Made sense, really. Why would anyone go somewhere else, pay a monthly subscription to a gym, when there was an absolutely top notch one available to use at any time, absolutely free?
Jeremy returned shortly with her drink, placing it beside her with a discreet wink before moving off to look after the other patrons. It really was an ideal existence, Fiona decided. She was enjoying a life that was somewhere in between being an ordinary girl from Birmingham and being rich and famous. Many of the perks, she felt, and none of the downfalls. Nobody recognized her. Nobody harassed her, no requests for selfies or autographs.
Not that anything of that kind took place on the premises, anyway, certainly not that she’d seen, or heard about. Anyone that even gave off the remotest hint of being paparazzi wouldn’t even make it over the threshold, and genuine guests had better manners than to stare at others or to interrupt them while they were relaxing or having dinner—even if it happened to be their favorite footballer, actor, singer, royal or whatever.
Just about to chastise herself for allowing her thoughts to meander so, she suddenly realized she was on to something. Closing her eyes and grabbing hard onto the trail of the train of thought she’d just been pursuing, she tugged it back into the forefront of her mind.
Yes! She opened her eyes. That was it. That was her angle. The wording would need work, serious refinement, but the basic idea was there. Treat yourself to a once-in-a-lifetime stay in the ultimate luxury hotel. Enjoy rooms, spaces and facilities fit for royalty.
Typing the snippet into the tablet’s note-taking app before she forgot it, she grinned. It was good—really good. Once polished up, expanded on and worked into press releases, sound bites, competition copy and advertorial copy, she was sure it would result in lots of coverage, not to mention bring in plenty of guests. The concept might even be used in TV, magazine and radio advertising. Now that would be seriously cool—a way for her to be famous, without being famous—her idea, her baby, up in lights!
Tapping in a few more notes, she saved her progress, then stopped to take a drink of the delicious fruit juice. It was then that she noticed that she wasn’t quite as secluded in her corner as she had been before. Two businessmen had settled down two tables away. Nothing unusual in that, except that as she allowed her gaze to linger on them, she quickly realized that they were, in fact, a little out of the ordinary. The majority of the businessmen and women she saw here were middle-aged or older, which made sense. They’d had longer to climb the career ladder, achieve higher positions, earn more money and therefore attend meetings or stay over in places such as the Totally Five Star.
These two, however, looked like they had less than a decade on her—late twenties, possibly early thirties. And the thing that made them the most unusual was the fact that they were hot. A subtle glance around the room showed her that she wasn’t the only woman who’d noticed them, either.
Chapter Eight
Continuing to surreptitiously peer at the men over the rim of her glass, it hit her that this was the first time in months that she’d looked at a man with interest, much less two men—and at the same time! But, ready to snatch her gaze away if one of them happened to glance at her, she realized that it wasn’t surprising that the pair had attracted her attention.
The tailored business suits would draw the eye even on an ugly guy. But on these two, the fine clothing was practically an orgasm for the gaze. They sat opposite each other, and their angle to her meant that she had a view of both their profiles—lucky her.
The one to her right had very dark, almost black hair, with a bit of a curl to it, a long straight nose, a trimmed goatee and, if she wasn’t mistaken, deep blue eyes. It was hard to tell for sure from this distance and perspective.
The one on her left had lighter, shorter hair, stubble that by some magical feat still looked smart, and the most sinful lips she’d ever set eyes on. And speaking of eyes, she thought perhaps his were green. What she wouldn’t give to go and check both of them out close up, preferably naked.
Shocked at her own sudden lustful thoughts, she inhaled more than drank another sip of the juice. Unfortunately, it hit her throat all wrong and she almost slammed the glass down as she started to cough. She tried so hard to suppress the cough, eager not to draw attention to herself, that she made it worse. Snatching up the thick linen serviette from the table, she held it to her mouth as she spluttered in a most embarrassing manner, and tears began to roll down her cheeks. By now, she was sure that the whole damn restaurant was staring at her, and she wished the tablecloths reached the floor, like the ones in the restaurant upstairs, so she could hide under the table until she regained her composure.
Swallowing repeatedly to try to soothe her irritated throat, she gasped as a gentle hand was laid on her shoulder, which set her off all over again.
“Oh God,” came a voice. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you jump. I just wanted to make sure you were all right. See if I could help.”
Unable to speak, Fiona waved a hand to try to signal that she’d be okay, but unless the guy was a mind reader, he’d have no luck figuring that out. Blinking through the tears that marred her vision, her urge to hide underneath the table grew stronger. Christ, it was only the hottie with the blue eyes. And, if she wasn’t mistaken, his sexy friend with the green eyes was also hovering close by, concern etched into his handsome features.
Managing to drag in a breath, she huffed out, “Thank you.”
Just then, Jeremy arrived with a carafe of water, complete with ice, and poured her a glassful. “Here you go, Fiona. Drink this. Are you all right? Anything else I can get you?”
Reaching for the glass and taking it up in a tentative grip, she took a tiny sip of the freezing cold liquid, hoping it wouldn’t make her cough again. She seemed to have gotten a handle on it, though her now-sore throat wasn’t at all happy with her. Taking several more tiny sips, she let out a sigh of relief, as it seemed that her mortifying bout was over. Then she moved on to bigger gulps, buying herself some time to think of something witty to say, anything to convince the three men looking at her that she wasn’t some kind of imbecile who couldn’t even manage a glass of juice without choking.
Unfortunately, her creative brain, which had been on fire up until she’d started lusting over the hotties, had taken its leave. So she decided to opt for the truth. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. My juice just went down the wrong way, that’s all. I’m fine, really. I’ll just finish my drink and be on my way. Thank you for the water, Jeremy.” She aimed a weak smile in his direction.
Blue Eyes turned to Jeremy. “Yeah, thanks, buddy. If you need to get on, we’ll keep an eye on her for a bit, make sure she’s okay. Don’t worry.”
A little warily, Jeremy looked at the two men, then at Fiona. “Are you going to be all right, Fiona? Do you need me to call someone and let them know you’ll be late or anything?”
She shook her head. “Honestly, Jeremy, I’ll be fine. It was just a coughing fit, that’s all. No lasting damage, except maybe to my makeup. And no, nobody will be missing me yet. It’s fine. Thank you so much, though.”
“Just give me a wave if you need me,” he said, backing away.
“Will do.”
With that, he morphed from concerned acquaintance back into efficient waiter in an instant and went back to looking after his tables and the patrons frequenting them.
Knowing that she’d now have to address the two men who’d caused her blush-worthy incident in the first place, she took yet another huge gulp of the icy water, then dabbed at her face with the napkin. Putting it down, she then turned to Blue Eyes, who still stood by her side, but had removed his hand from her shoulder, with a wide smile.
“I’m so sorry,” she s
aid again. “Please excuse the state of me, I’m sure I must look terrible. Thank you so much, both of you, for coming to check on me, but I’m really fine. No Heimlich maneuver required. I’ll just finish my drink…drinks…and be on my way. Please feel free to go back to your meeting.”
Green Eyes stepped a little closer. “You look just fine, sweetheart, except for being a little flushed, but that’s no bad thing.” He shot an almost imperceptible glance at Blue Eyes, and Fiona had to wonder if she’d imagined it. And if not, what on earth did he mean by that, anyway?
“Yes,” his friend chipped in, moving around so that he, too, could look at her face. “You look great. We’ll be just over there if you need us, all right? Don’t you hesitate to call out or wave, okay?”
Fiona began to wish they’d stop making such a fuss. But they were just being polite, she supposed. So, fixing the smile back on her face, she said, “Thank you. And I will. I promise.”
She waited until they’d retaken their seats before she started to make preparations for leaving hers. She didn’t want to dash off straight away as that might concern them further and send Jeremy into a tizzy, so she acted as coolly and calmly as possible, finishing the water, then the juice, as she continued making notes on her tablet. Finally, feeling able to leave without raising any eyebrows, she got up and collected her things.
Her movement attracted the attention of Blue Eyes and Green Eyes, and she gave them both a smile and a nod before moving off. She didn’t see Jeremy, who must have been in the kitchen collecting something, so she made a mental note to thank him when she next saw him. That was the downside to posh material napkins and electronic devices—it meant there was no paper or pen handy to scrawl him a little note with.
Eyes Wide Open Page 5