Читать книгу Proposal At The Winter Ball - Jessica Gilmore - Страница 8

CHAPTER TWO

‘SHOW ME AROUND, ALEX! It’s not every day a girl gets the architect providing the grand tour.’

‘Don’t you want to see your room and freshen up first?’

She shook her head. ‘No, I’m quite fresh, thank you, and you can conclude the tour at my room.’ Flora watched the bellboy pile her bags and coat onto his trolley and sighed happily. ‘This is a lot better than lugging a tent over three fields—and then having to go back for the beds. Besides, you want me to get an idea of what the client wants? The best way is for me to take a detailed look around.’

Her first impression was of luxurious comfort rather than cold, chic elegance. The whole interior of the hotel was the same mix of glass and wood as the outside but softened with warm colours and plenty of plants, abstract prints and comfy-looking cushions and sofas to mellow the potentially stark effect.

Alex shrugged off his designer ski jacket, a coat that had probably cost more than Flora’s entire suitcase of clothes, and gestured. ‘Where do you want to start?’

‘Bottom and work our way up?’

‘Okay, then, get ready to combust. We’re heading down to the pool.’

If Flora didn’t actually burst into excitable flames when she saw the swimming pool it was a close-run thing. Housed a floor below the hotel entrance in a space carved out of the alpine shelf, the high-ceilinged pool was enclosed by a dramatic wall of glass. Swimming up to the edge of the pool must feel like swimming to the very edge of the mountain itself, she thought, staring out at the white peaks, as if you might plunge over the side, dive down to the valley below.

The lights were low and intimately flattering, padded sofas were dotted around in discreet corners, and whirlpools, saunas and steam rooms were hidden away behind glazed sliding doors. Tables held jugs of iced water and inviting platters of fruit; thick fluffy towels were piled up on wooden shelves.

‘Oh.’ She pivoted, taking in every single detail. ‘I just want to grab a magazine from that beautifully overstuffed bookshelf, pull on a robe and move into this room for ever. May I? Please?’

But Alex ignored her. ‘Come on, next stop the lounge and then I’ll take you to your room.’

By the time they reached her room Flora had scribbled down plenty of notes and photographed enough details to give her a good place to start. Obviously the designs she came up with for the Bali hotel would need to be unique, to marry with Alex’s vision and the setting, but it was good for her to have an idea of the owner’s tastes. She could see why Lola had used the palate she had; it was warming, sumptuous and complemented the natural materials prevalent throughout the building. The soft furnishings and décor were all shades of soft cream, gold, bronze and orange, whether it was the bronze and orange stripes on the cushions or the subtle champagne of the robes and the towels, the same colour in the crisp blouses and shirts worn by the staff.

It was clear that whatever look she designed for the Bali hotel would have to flow through every single detail, no matter how tiny.

‘Okay.’ Alex stopped at a cream door and gestured. ‘This is you.’

Flora held her breath as she slid her keycard into the slot and turned the handle. Yes, she was here to work but there was no reason why she shouldn’t enjoy it and after a few long years of penny-pinching and worrying it was rather splendid to be in such indulgent surroundings.

She stepped in and stopped, awestruck. ‘Wow. Oh, Alex.’

At one end was the ubiquitous wall of glass and the ubiquitous stunning winter-wonderland view—not that it was getting old. Flora thought she could live here for ever and it would still be as breathtaking as the very first heart-stopping glimpse. The ceiling was high, arched and beamed, the walls a pale gold. The bed, a floating platform, was made up in white linen accented with a bronze silk throw and matching cushions.

Her suitcase had been placed on a low chest at the foot of the huge bed, the cheap, battered case more than a little incongruous in the spacious, luxurious suite. A reminder that this luxury was borrowed, that she had to earn her place here. Now she was here the jeans, jumpers and one good dress she had packed didn’t seem enough. Not for the weather or for the hotel itself.

‘You like it?’ Alex stepped into the room, a smile playing on his lips as he watched her dart around, peering into every door.

‘Like it? Do you realise that this walk-in wardrobe is bigger than my bedroom? In fact this suite is bigger than the house I live in—and I’m including the garden!’

She stopped by the glass screen that separated her bed from the small seating area and stared at the other screen, which stood between her bed and the bath, a huge tub affair perched on a dais right in the centre of the room.

‘Thank goodness the toilet’s in its proper place and not on show, otherwise this would feel more like an oddly luxurious prison cell than a hotel room!’

‘It’s looking good.’ Alex took a few steps further in and turned slowly. ‘I haven’t seen most of the suites since they were decorated and the fixtures installed.’ He stopped by the bath and ran one finger along the bronze trim. ‘At least you’ll be clean while you’re staying here. It can be so difficult to drag oneself away from the bed to the bathroom, don’t you find?’

Flora tested out the sofa, wincing as the rigidity of the cushions rejected her attempt to relax. It looked good but she wasn’t sure she would want to actually sit on it for any length of time. ‘Was the bath in the centre of the room your idea, Mr Fitzgerald? Have you been watching Splash again because I don’t think there are many mermaids in the Austrian Alps.’

He grinned. ‘Nope, not guilty, the fixtures are all Lola’s vision. Apparently this particular suite is the epitome of romantic.’

‘That’s where I’ve been going wrong, all that old-fashioned bathing in private nonsense. Although it could be just a leetle awkward if I was sharing a room with a friend, not a romantic interest. Is this...erm...motif in all the rooms?’

‘Not at all,’ he assured her. ‘In most of them the baths are tucked away respectably in the room for which they were intended. Okay. If you are ready, they are laying out Kaffee und Kuchen for us. I thought we could go and look through my design ideas in the lounge while we have a snack.’

‘Kaffee and Kuchen? Coffee and cake?’ Flora jumped to her feet. ‘Never did words so gladden a girl’s heart. I’m ready. Lead on, Macduff. Take me to cake.’

* * *

The coffee and cakes were laid out in the lounge, the social heart of the hotel, situated on the ground floor at the very front of the building to ensure it took full advantage of the stunning views. Once again Flora stood by the huge floor-to-ceiling windows and her stomach fell away at the terrifying illusion that there was nothing between her and the edge of the mountain.

Clusters of comfy bronze and red velvet sofas and chairs surrounded small tables, bookshelves full of books, games and magazines filled one wall and a huge wood-burning stove was suspended in the middle of the room. Somehow the lounge managed to feel cosy despite its vast size, easily capable of seating the sixty people the boutique hotel was designed to hold.

‘Right.’ Alex seated himself on one of the sofas and laid out his sketch pad in front of him. It would, she knew, be filled with exquisite pen-and-ink drawings. This was just the first phase, the visionary one. From here he would proceed to blueprints, to computer models, to hundreds of measurements and costings and attention to a million tiny little details that would transfer his vision from the page to reality.

But she knew this, the initial concept, was his favourite part. In many ways neither of them had changed that much from the children they had once been, designing their dream houses, palaces, castles, tree houses, igloos, ships in absorbed companionship.

But in other ways... She ran her eyes hungrily over him, allowing herself one long guilty look at the bent tousled head, at the long, lean body. In other ways they had both changed beyond recognition—not that Alex had noticed that.

No, in his eyes she was still the dirty-faced, scabby-kneed little girl he had met the first time he had run away from home. He’d only made it half a mile along the lane before bumping into Flora and together they’d built him a den to stay in. Planned for Flora to bring him bread and milk and a blanket.

He loved her, she knew that. And there weren’t very many people who could claim that. Outside Flora’s own family probably none.

He just wasn’t in love with her. There had been a time, way back when, she had wondered. But her one attempt to move things up a level had ended messily.

Flora curled her fingers into fists, trying to block out the memory. Block out the way he had put his hands on her shoulders, not to pull her in closer but to push her away. Block out the look of utter horror in his eyes.

He had kissed a lot of girls that summer and subsequent springs, summers, autumns and winters. But not Flora; never Flora.

And here she was, all these years later, still hoping. Pathetic. One day she’d stop being in love with him. She just had to try a little harder, that was all.

* * *

Neither of them noticed the light outside fading, replaced by the gradual glow of the low, intimate hotel lighting. It wasn’t until the huge Christmas tree dominating the far corner of the lounge sprang into brightly lit colour that Alex sat back, took off his work glasses and rubbed his eyes.

‘So, what do you think?’

Flora chewed on her lip. ‘I think I really need to take a trip out there to fully get your vision,’ she said solemnly. ‘At least three weeks, all-expenses-paid.’

‘Play your cards right, convince Camilla Lusso that you can do this and you will do,’ he pointed out. ‘I told you that part of the brand promise is ensuring each hotel is both unique and part of its environment—and to leave as small a carbon footprint as possible. You’ll need to source as much from local suppliers as possible.’

‘Very worthy.’ Flora pulled the pencil out of her hair and allowed the dark brown locks to fall onto her shoulders. ‘Will the guests arrive in a canoe, paddled only by their own strokes with the help of a friendly wind?’

He bit back a grin. Trust Flora to see the big glaring hole in the whole eco-resort argument. ‘Unlikely. But it’s a start, don’t knock it.’

‘If I get to travel to Bali I promise not to give it as much as a second thought. Do you think they’ll go for it? The glass-bottomed hotel?’

‘I don’t know. They’ve already decided to set the hotel in the rainforest—which is a pretty interesting decision. After all, most people expect a sea view in a place like Bali, so I really want to still have that water element. And although it would be nice to build out over the sea the local laws won’t allow it—and the whole “surrounded by the sea” concept is a little “honeymoon in the Maldives” obviously.’

‘Obviously.’ Flora sounded wistful and he nudged her.

‘Come on, work with me here. If I can’t convince you I’m doomed. I actually think this might be even more breathtaking. Not just building over the lagoon but using glass floors to make the lagoon part of the hotel—the water as one of the design materials.’

‘And I can bring that detail to bear inside. The lovely local dark woods and the natural blues and greens. Yes.’ She nodded. ‘I can work with that. Thanks, Alex.’

Alex pushed himself to his feet and walked over to the bar, a long piece of polished oak on the other side of the room. ‘Glass of wine or a stein of Austrian beer?’

‘I’m not sure what a stein is. A glass of white wine please.’

Alex ordered their drinks from the barmaid who was hovering discreetly at the far end.

He carried their drinks over and handed her the wine, taking a long appreciative gulp of his own cold beer, a heavy weight in the traditional stein glass. ‘Cheers, or should I say prost?’

She raised her glass to his. ‘Cheers. You were right. A job like this is just what I need.’

Alex paused. He knew it wasn’t easy for her, younger sister to such high-achieving siblings, daughter of well-known experts in their fields. He knew her mother’s well-intentioned comments on everything from Flora’s hair to her clothes cut her to the quick. He knew how self-conscious she was, how she hated her conspicuous height, her even more conspicuous figure, her dramatically wide mouth and showy Snow White colouring. She really truly didn’t know how stunning she was—when she wasn’t hunching herself inside one of the sacklike dresses or tunics she habitually wore.

But she was twenty-nine now. It was time she believed in herself.

‘You could have had work before,’ he pointed out. ‘How many times have I asked you to freelance for me? You were just too proud to accept—or too afraid.’

Her mouth shut again, her lips compressed into a tight, hurt line. ‘There’s nothing wrong with wanting to stand on my own two feet.’

‘No, there isn’t.’ He fought the urge to backtrack; he’d always hated upsetting her in any way. ‘But there’s nothing wrong with accepting a helping hand either. Sometimes I think you’re so determined to prove yourself you actually hold yourself back.’

Her eyes blazed. ‘I can’t win, can I? Once you accused me of not knowing my own mind, now you’re telling me I’m too stubborn.’

‘If you mean I told you not to apply to vet school then I stand by that. Just like I stand by telling you not to take that job at Village Inns. I still don’t know why you did.’

Flora set her wine down on the table and glared at him. ‘Why were you so set against it? No one lands the perfect job straight from college. It made sense to get some experience.’

‘No, but your heart was never in that job, just like it wasn’t in veterinary medicine. You applied for that to please your mum.’

Flora jumped to her feet and walked over to the window, staring out at the dark before turning to face him. ‘So you were right that I wasn’t vet material. Right that I couldn’t hack it. So it took me a while to work things out. Excuse me for not being driven, focused on the goal like you, Mr Super Architect of the Year.’

He ignored the dig. So he was driven. Wasn’t that the point? It was why they were here after all. ‘Art school was far more you—but then you took the first safe job you could find even though designing those trendy pubs and twee restaurants drove you crazy. And when that didn’t work out you went into lockdown mode. Took it personally, as if you had failed.’

‘No, I didn’t!’ She paused, looked down at the floor. ‘Well, maybe a little.’

‘Look, Flora. You know the last thing I want to do is hurt you. In any way.’ It was truer than she knew. Alex didn’t know where he would have ended up, what he would have been without Flora’s friendship. It was why he had never been able to confide in her, not fully. He had never wanted to see the warmth in her eyes darken and chill. To be judged by her and found wanting.

God knew he judged himself enough for both of them.

‘Thank goodness.’ She looked at him directly then, her blue eyes shadowed. ‘I’d hate to hear what you would say if you wanted to hurt me.’

‘I just want you to follow your dreams. Yours, not your mother’s or mine or trying to beat your sister at her own game. I want you to go for what you want. Do what makes you happy. Not hang back for fear it doesn’t work out or in case you get knocked down again. Take each rejection as a challenge, get back up and try again. Harder each time. Here is your chance. Seize it.’

‘I was trying to before my temporary boss and arrogant best friend decided to have a go at me.’ But the anger had drained out of her voice. ‘I’m not so good at the seizing, Alex. We didn’t all get the Masters of the Universe education, you know.’

Alex had hated every single day at his elite boarding school. The only thing in its favour was that every day he had spent there was a day not at home. ‘I dropped out of sixth form to slum it at college with you so I missed the Advanced World Domination course. But I tell you what I do know, Flora. We’re all mostly faking it. Tell yourself you can do it, tell yourself you deserve it and make yourself go for it. That’s the secret. Now, I don’t know about you but those cakes seem like hours ago and I know the kitchen is hoping to do a last trial run on us before the guests arrive tomorrow. Let’s go eat.’

* * *

‘That was amazing. Although I don’t feel I can ever eat again.’ Flora patted her stomach happily and curled up on the velvet sofa.

‘Not that cosy though, just the two of us in a room set for sixty.’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ It had felt a bit incongruous at first, the two of them waited on alone in a vast room, but a couple of glasses of the delicious wine had soon set her at her ease and when Alex suggested they went back into the lounge for one last look at the plans and a digestif her original plans for a bath and an early night were forgotten.

She had only drunk schnapps once before and it hadn’t been pretty. But it was the national drink, after all; it would be rude not to sample it.

Alex was leaning back in his chair, his glass held loosely in his hand. Flora was usually so very careful about how she looked at him. If he ever caught her staring. If he ever guessed how she felt...

Alex was her oldest and best friend. His was the shoulder she cried on after break-ups and heartbreaks. He was her go-to person for advice. He knew all her vices and nearly all her secrets. But there were two things that lay between them. Two secrets; a chasm that could never be bridged.

He had never confided in her why he had left home, and why he was so against any kind of reconciliation with his father.

And she had never told him that she loved him.

Not as a friend, as a confidant, but in every way it was possible for a woman to love a man. Sometimes Flora thought she had fallen for him that very first day, that skinny red-headed boy with a look of determination on his face—and desolation in the stormy eyes. The hair had long since darkened to a deep auburn, his body had filled out in all the right places, but he was still determined.

And he hid it well, but at heart he was still as alone as he had been then. Not one of his girlfriends had ever got through to him. Was that why she had never told him how she felt? He was right, she was afraid.

Afraid of not being good enough for him. Afraid he would turn away in disgust and horror, just as he had all those years ago. Afraid that this time she would lose him for ever.

Flora downed the schnapps in one satisfying gulp, choking a little as the pungent, sharp liquor hit the back of her throat. Hmm, not as bad as she’d thought. In fact, that warm feeling at the pit of her stomach was really quite pleasant. She refilled her glass.

She gazed into the amber depths as his words rolled round and round her mind. ‘Get back up and try again. Tell yourself you deserve it.’ He was right. She never had. She took every rejection as a final blow whether it was work or her heart. It was easier not to put herself out there. Easier to lock herself away and hope.

Hope that somebody would see her Internet site and say, ‘Hey, you amazing talent, come work for me!’

Hope that Alex would turn round, look into her eyes and realise, just like that, she was the only girl for him.

Hope that her parents would tell her that she made them proud.

She just sat back and let life pass her by. Hoping.

Flora raised her glass and downed the schnapps. It wasn’t quite as fierce this time. Not as hot. More...mellow. She had definitely underrated schnapps.

She reached out and closed her hand around the bottle, wondering why it took a few goes to clasp it properly, and pulled it towards her.

‘Another one?’ Alex’s eyebrows rose. ‘We had quite a lot of wine at dinner. Are you sure?’

‘Yes, Dad.’ She grinned at him. ‘I like your hair like that.’

Alex touched his head, staring at her in confusion. ‘My hair?’

Flora put her head to one side. ‘It’s all glowy with the Christmas lights behind you. Like a halo. Angel Alex.’

She didn’t see him move but the next thing she knew he was by her side, one firm hand on hers, removing the bottle from her grasp.

‘If you’re talking about angels then you have definitely had enough. Come along.’ He slid the bottle out of her reach and pulled at her hand, helping her rise to her feet. Flora swayed and caught his shoulder and he grimaced. ‘Bed time for you. I forgot you and schnapps don’t mix.’

‘We mix just fine.’ Flora regained her footing and stopped still, her hand still on his shoulder. She loved that Alex was taller than her. She looked up at him, his dearly familiar face so close to hers. The greeny-grey of his changeable eyes, the long lashes, the faded freckles on his nose, the curve of his cheekbones. The curve of his mouth. So close. Kissing distance. Her stomach clenched, the old exquisite pain. And yet all she had to do was stand on her tiptoes, just a little, and move in.

His words ran through her mind. Try again. Harder each time.

Maybe that was all she had to do. Try again. Maybe Alex was waiting for her to step forward, to make the move. Maybe it had always been within her power to change things but she had just never dared.

Maybe...

Before she knew it the words were tumbling out, words she had spent the last thirteen years keeping locked up deep, deep inside, more plaintive than demanding. ‘Why didn’t you kiss me back?’

‘What?’ His eyes widened in alarm and he took a step back. She moved with him, still holding on as if he were all that kept her anchored. He was lean, almost rangy, but there was a solidity when she touched him, the feel of a man who was fighting fit. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘All those years ago. Why did you push me away? Have you never wondered what would have happened if you hadn’t?’

‘It’s never crossed my mind.’ But his eyes shifted to her mouth as he spoke.

He’s lying. Her throat dried as she realised what that meant.

He had thought about it. And that changed everything. Almost unconsciously she licked her lips; his throat tightened as he watched the tip of her tongue dip onto her top lip and, at the gesture, her heart began to beat faster.

Emboldened, Flora carried on, her voice low and persuasive. ‘All those nights we stayed up talking till dawn. When we visited each other at uni we slept in the same bed, for goodness’ sake. The tents we’ve shared... Have you never wondered, not even once? What it would be like? What we’d be like?’

‘I...’ His eyes were on hers, intent, a heat she had never seen before beginning to burn bright, melting her. ‘Maybe once or twice.’ His voice was hoarse. ‘But we’re not like that, Flora. We’re more than that.’

Flora was dimly aware that there was something important in his words, something fundamental that she should understand, but she didn’t want to stop, not now as the heat in his eyes intensified, his gaze locking on hers. If she pushed it now, he would follow. She knew it; she knew it as she knew him.

She also knew that whatever happened the consequences would be immense. There would be repercussions. Last time they had pretended it had never happened. It was unlikely that would happen again; their friendship would be altered for ever. Could she live with that?

Could she live without trying? Laugh it off as lack of sleep and too much schnapps? Now she had come so far...

No, not when he was looking at her like that. Heat and questions and desire mingling in his eyes, just as she had always dreamed. I want you to go for what you want. That was what he’d told her.

She wanted him.

‘Kiss me, Alex,’ she said softly. And before he could reply or pull away Flora stepped in, put her other hand on his shoulder and, raising herself on her tiptoes, she pressed her mouth to his.