Christmas In The Boss's Castle

It was the oddest situation. The most bizarre he’d ever found himself in. The irony of it almost killed him. If someone had told him twenty-four hours ago that he’d end up on the roof of his hotel, in the snow, with a strange, enigmatic woman who was causing the shades to start to fall away from his eyes after five years, he would have laughed in their face.

He wasn’t joking about the sparseness of the hotel. Rob Speirs had emailed to say some of the guests were complaining about the lack of Christmas spirit. Rob had also dropped a few hints that it was bad for business.

Grace’s eyebrows arched. The edges of her lips turned upwards. ‘You think?’

He put his arm around her shoulders. ‘It’s freezing out here—and only one of us has a coat. Let’s go back inside.’

She hesitated for the tiniest second then gave a shiver and a nod as they started walking to the door. ‘So you can fire me in comfort?’

‘Less of the firing thing. Are you going to bring this up all the time?’

She nodded. ‘Probably.’

He pulled open the door. ‘How about we go downstairs for some hot chocolate and you can tell me more about Maids in Chelsea? I have it on good authority you’ve got a fan in Mrs Archer.’

Grace nodded. ‘I thought you were tired. You said you hadn’t slept in three days. You don’t need to talk to me. We can just call it quits and I’ll go home now.’

He shook his head as they stepped inside and walked down the stairs. ‘Oh, no. You don’t get off that easy. We have things to discuss.’

‘We do?’

She sounded surprised. He swiped a key fob next to the elevator and the doors swished open. He gestured with his hand for her to go inside. ‘You don’t want to have hot chocolate with me?’

He made it sound light-hearted. He wanted to try and make amends for his earlier behaviour. But the truth was his curiosity was piqued by Grace.

She gave him a cheeky stare. ‘Only if there are marshmallows and cream. I get the impression you might be a bit of a cheapskate.’

He laughed as she walked into the elevator and for the first time in five years something happened.

It had been so long he almost didn’t recognise it.

His heart gave a little leap.

* * *

Grace wasn’t quite sure what to make of any of this. One minute Mr Film Star looks was firing her in his gravelly Scottish voice, the next minute he was apologising and making her heart completely stop when he touched her cheek.

It was the weirdest feeling. She’d been beyond cold—but the touch of his finger on her cheek had been like a little flame sending pulses around her body.

They stood in silence as the elevator moved silently to the ground floor. Frank caught sight of them as they walked out into the foyer, but Finlay didn’t give them time to talk. He ushered her through to one of the private sitting rooms, speaking to a waitress on the way past.

They sat down on the comfortable black velvet-covered chairs. She ran her hand over the material. ‘Black. Nice,’ she said as she watched his face.

He shook his head. ‘I feel that you might be going to make me pay.’

The strange wariness she’d felt around him had seemed to vanish. She’d seen something up on that roof. Something she’d never seen in another person.

For a few moments it had felt as if she could see right into his soul. His pain. His hurt. His bitterness.

He seemed to be at a point in his life that she couldn’t even begin to understand.

‘Me? Make you pay? Whatever makes you think that?’

He put one elbow on the table and leaned on his hand. He did still look tired, but there was a little sparkle in those blue eyes. When Finlay Armstrong wasn’t being so businesslike and generally miserable, he showed tiny glimmers of a sense of humour.

The good looks were still there. Now she wasn’t so flabbergasted she could see them clearly. In fact, in the bright lights of the hotel his handsome features might even be a bit intimidating.

But there was something about that accent—that Scottish burr—that added something else to the mix. When she’d first heard it—that fierceness—its tone of don’t ever cross me had had her shaking in her shoes. Now, there was a softness. A warmth about the tone.

He held out his arms to the room they were sitting in. ‘I chose black and grey deliberately. I liked the smoothness, sleekness and no-nonsense look of the hotel. White would have been clinical. Any other colour just a distraction that would age quickly. Black and grey are pretty timeless colours.’

‘If you can call them colours.’

The waitress appeared and set down steaming hot chocolates, adorned with marshmallows and cream, and long spoons. The aroma drifted up instantly. After the coldness of outside the instant warmth was comforting.

Finlay spooned some of the cream from his hot chocolate into his mouth and gave a loud sigh. ‘I’m guessing you don’t like my interior design selections.’

Grace smiled and tried to catch some of her marshmallows before they melted. ‘I bet they cost more money than I could earn in ten years.’

He stopped stirring his hot chocolate and looked at her.

She cringed. Did she really mean to say that out loud?

The marshmallows-and-cream assortment was all sticking together inside her mouth. Any minute now she would start choking. She took another quick sip of the hot chocolate in an attempt to melt some of the marshmallows before she needed emergency treatment. Seemed as if she’d brought enough attention to herself already.

‘How would you like to earn some more money?’

Too late. She coughed and spluttered everywhere. Did he really just say that?

As quickly as the words left his mouth and Grace started choking, Finlay Armstrong started to laugh.

He did. The guy actually started laughing. He leaned over and started giving her back a few slaps, trying to stop her choking. He was shaking his head. ‘I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean anything like that. It’s okay, Grace. You don’t need to fake a medical emergency and escape in an ambulance.’

The choking started to subside and Finlay signalled over to one of the waitresses to bring some water. He was still laughing.

Her cheeks were warm. No, her cheeks were red hot. Between choking to death and thinking completely inappropriate thoughts she couldn’t be any more embarrassed if she tried.

Because she had thought inappropriate thoughts—even if it had been for just a millisecond.

She hadn’t had enough time to figure out if she was mortally offended and insulted, or just completely and utterly stunned.

A bartender in a sleek black dress came over with a bottle of water and some glasses with ice. She shot Finlay her best sultry smile as she poured the water for them both. Grace got a look of disdain. Perfect.

The water-pouring seemed to take for ever. She could almost hear some sultry backtrack playing behind them.

Finlay was polite but reserved. The bartender got the briefest of thanks, then he turned his attention back to Grace. It was hard not to grab the glass and gulp the water down. She waited until the water was finally poured, then gave her most equally polite smile and took some eager sips.

She cleared her throat. ‘I didn’t think that, you know,’ she said quickly.

Finlay laughed even harder than before. ‘Yes.’ He nodded. ‘You did. My bad. The wrong choice of words. I didn’t mean that at all.’

She gulped again. Now they were out in public his conduct seemed a little different. He was laughing but there was more of a formality about him. This was his hotel and right now he was under the microscopic view of all his staff. He had a reputation to uphold. She got that. She did.

And right now his eyes didn’t show any hint of the vulnerability she’d glimpsed upstairs. Now, his eyes seemed like those of a worldly-wise businessman. One that had probably seen and done things she could only ever dream of.

All she knew about Finlay Armstrong was the little he’d told her. But Finlay had the self-assured aura that lots of self-made businessmen had.

The knowledge, the experience, the know-how and the confidence that a lot of the clients she’d met through Maids in Chelsea had. People who had lived entirely different lives from the one she had.

She set down her water and tried to compose herself again. Heat had finally started to permeate into her body. She could feel her fingers and toes.

She finally shook off Finlay’s coat. She’d forgotten it was around her shoulders. That was what the bartender had been staring at.

She tugged at her black shirt, straightening it a little, and put her hand up to her hair, trying to push it back into place.

Finlay was watching her with amusement. ‘Leave it—it’s fine. Let’s talk about something else.’

Grace shifted a little on the velvet chair. What on earth did he want to talk to her about?

His hands ran up and down the outside of the latte glass. ‘I’d like you to take on another role within the hotel.’

She sat up a bit more. Her curiosity was definitely piqued. ‘What do you mean?’

He held out his hands around the room. ‘You mentioned the lack of Christmas decorations and I think you might be right. Rob Speirs, my manager, mentioned there’s been a few complaints. He thinks it could be affecting business. It might be time to have a rethink.’

She tilted her head to the side. ‘You want me to bring up the stuff from the basement?’

He shook his head. ‘No. I don’t want any of the old decorations. I want new. I want you to look around and think of a theme for the hotel, something that gives the Christmas message while keeping the upmarket look that I like for the hotel.’

Grace’s mouth fell open. ‘What?’

He started a little. ‘And obviously I’ll pay you. A designer fee, plus a company credit card to cover all the costs and delivery of what you choose.’

Grace was having trouble believing this. He’d pulled the few decorations she’d put up in the penthouse down with his bare hands. He’d called them tacky. Now, he wanted her to decorate the whole hotel?

She couldn’t help the nervous laugh that sneaked out. ‘Finlay, do you know what date it is?’

He wrinkled his nose. ‘The sixteenth? The seventeenth of December? Sorry, I’ve crossed so many time zones lately I can’t keep track.’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t know for sure, but I’m guessing most of the other hotels decided on their Christmas schemes months ago—and ordered all their decorations. They’ve had their decorations up since the middle of November.’

Finlay shook his head. ‘That’s too early. Even the first day of December seems too soon.’

Grace leaned across the table towards him. ‘I’m not sure that what you have in mind and what I have in mind will be the same thing.’

‘What do you mean?’

She sighed and tried to find appropriate words. ‘Less than half an hour ago you told me you hated Christmas and everything about it. What’s changed your mind?’

The hesitation was written all over his face. Just as she’d done a few seconds earlier, he was trying to find the right words. She could almost see them forming on his lips. She held her breath. Then, just when he looked as if he might answer, he leaned forward and put his head in his hands.

Now she definitely couldn’t breathe. She pressed her lips together to stop herself from filling the silence.

When Finlay looked up again, it wasn’t the polished businessman she’d been sitting opposite for the last twenty minutes. This was Finlay, the guy on the roof who’d lost his wife and seemed to lose himself in the process. What little oxygen supplies she had left sucked themselves out into the atmosphere in a sharp burst at the unhidden pain in his eyes.

‘It’s time.’ His voice cracked a little and his shoulders sagged as if the weight that had been pressing him down had just done its last, awful deed.

She couldn’t help herself. She didn’t care about appropriateness. She didn’t care about talk. Grace had always had a big heart. She always acted on instinct. She slid her hand across the glass-topped table and put it over his.

It didn’t matter that the word no had been forming on her lips. It didn’t matter that she felt completely out of her depth and had no qualifications for the position he wanted to give her. She squeezed his hand and looked him straight in the eye, praying that her tears wouldn’t pool again.

He gave himself a shake and straightened up. ‘And it’s a business decision.’ He pulled his hand back.

She gave him a cautious smile. ‘If you’re sure—and it’s a business decision,’ she threw in, even though she didn’t believe it, ‘the answer is yes.’

He leaned back against the chair, his shoulders straightening a little.

‘I have to warn you,’ she continued, ‘that the picture you see in your head might not match the picture I have in mine.’

She glanced across the room and gave him a bigger smile. ‘I can absolutely promise you that no matter how sleek, no matter how modern you think they are—there will be no black Christmas trees in The Armstrong hotel.’

The shadows fell a little from his eyes. ‘There won’t?’

There was the hint of a teasing tone in his voice. As if he was trying his best to push himself back from the place he’d found himself in.

‘My Christmas could never have black trees. I’ll do my best to keep things in the style you like. But think of Christmas as a colour burst. A rainbow shower.’ She held up one hand as she tried to imagine what she could do. ‘A little sparkle on a gloomy day.’

Finlay nodded in agreement. ‘I’ll get you a credit card. Is there anything else you need?’

She licked her lips. Her throat was feeling dry. What had she just got herself into?

Her brain started to whizz. ‘Use of a phone. And a computer. A space in one of the offices if you can.’

Finlay stood up. ‘I can do that.’

It seemed the businessman persona had slotted back into place. Then, there was a tiny flicker of something behind his eyes.

He smiled and held out his hand towards her.

She stood up nervously and shook his hand.

‘Grace Ellis, welcome to The Armstrong Hotel.’

CHAPTER THREE

‘WHAT’S WRONG WITH you today?’ asked Alice.

Grace was staring out of the window, lack of sleep making her woozy.

She turned her attention back to Alice. ‘Nothing, I’m sorry. I’m just a little tired.’

Alice narrowed her gaze with a sly smile on her face. ‘I’ve seen that kind of distracted look before—just not on you.’

Grace finished making the bed and turned to face Alice. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

The last thing she wanted to do was admit to Alice the reasons that sleep had evaded her. It would be easy to say it was excitement about the job offer. Stress about whether she could actually do the job. But the truth was—while they might have contributed—the main sleep stealer had been the face that kept invading her mind every few seconds.

There was something so enigmatic about Finlay Armstrong. It wasn’t just the traditional good looks, blue eyes and sexy Scottish accent. It was something so much more.

And there was no way she could be the only one that felt it.

A successful businessman like Finlay Armstrong must have women the world over trying to put themselves on his radar.

She had no idea how he behaved in private. Five years was a long time. Had he had any hook ups since his wife died? Probably. Surely?

She didn’t even want to think like that.

It was just...that moment...that moment on the roof. The expression in his eyes. The way he’d looked at her when he’d reached up and touched her cheek.

Grace hadn’t wanted to acknowledge how low she’d been feeling up there. She hadn’t wanted to admit how she was missing her gran so much it felt like a physical pain.

But for a few seconds—up on that roof—she’d actually thought about something else.

She’d actually only thought about Finlay Armstrong.

‘Grace?’ Alice Archer had walked over and touched her arm.

‘Oh, sorry, Alice. I was miles away.’

Alice raised her eyebrows. ‘And where was that exactly?’

Grace bit her lip and pulled some folded papers from her white apron. ‘I’ve to help choose some Christmas decorations for the hotel. I was up half the night trying to find something appropriate.’

Alice gave a little smile and reached her thin hand over to look at the printouts. Grace swallowed. She could see the blue veins under Alice’s pale skin. A few of her knuckle joints were a little gnarled. They must give her pain—but she never complained. Another reminder of how much she missed her gran.

Alice glanced over the pictures, her eyes widening at a few. Grace had spent hours tracking down themes and stockists for particular items. All of them at costs that made her blink.

Alice gave her a thoughtful look as she handed the pictures back. She patted Grace’s hand. ‘I’m sure whatever you choose will be perfect. It will be nice to have some Christmas cheer around the hotel.’

Grace couldn’t help but smile. ‘Christmas cheer, that’s exactly what I’m trying to capture. Something to make people get in the spirit.’

Alice walked over to her Louis XV velvet-covered chair and sank down with a wince.

‘Are you okay? Are you hurting?’

Alice shook her head proudly and folded her hands in her lap. ‘No. I’m not sore, Grace. I’m just old. I’ll have some lemon tea now, if you please.’

‘Of course.’ Grace hurried over to complete their morning ritual. She sliced the fresh lemon and prepared the tea, boiling the water and carrying the tray with the china teapot and cup and saucer over to the table at Alice’s elbow.

Alice gave a grateful sigh. Her make-up was still impeccable but her eyes were tired this morning. ‘Maybe you should have some help? Someone to give you some confidence in your decisions.’

Grace was surprised. ‘Do you want to come with me? You’re more than welcome to. I would be glad of the company.’

Alice laughed and shook her head. ‘Oh, no. I don’t mean me. I was thinking more of someone else...someone else who could use a little Christmas spirit.’

Grace had poured the tea and was about to hand the cup and saucer to Alice but her hand wobbled. She knew exactly who Alice was hinting about.

‘I don’t think that would be appropriate. He’s far too busy. He’s far too immersed in his work. He wouldn’t have time for anything like that.’

She shifted uncomfortably. She had a pink shirt hanging up in her locker, ready to change into once she’d finished her chambermaid duties. Alice was staring at her with those steady grey eyes. It could be a little unnerving. It was as if she could see into Grace’s head and see all the secret weird thoughts she’d been having about Finlay Armstrong since last night.

Gran had been a bit like that too. She’d always seemed to know what Grace was going to say before she even said it. Even when she’d been twelve years old and her friend had stolen a box of chocolates from the local shop. The associated guilt had nearly made Grace sick, and she’d only been home and under Gran’s careful gaze for ten minutes before she’d spilled everything.

Alice Archer was currently sparking off a whole host of similar feelings.

Her eyes took on a straight-to-the-point look. ‘He asked you to get him some Christmas decorations, didn’t he?’

Grace set the cup and saucer down. ‘Yes,’ she replied hesitantly.

‘Then, he’s reached the stage that he’s ready to start living again.’

The words were so matter-of-fact. So to the point. But Alice wasn’t finished.

‘It’s time to bring a little Christmas magic to The Armstrong, Grace, and you look like just the girl to do it.’

* * *

One hour later the black shirt was crumpled in a bag and her long-sleeved deep pink shirt with funny little tie thing at the collar was firmly in place. She grabbed some more deodorant from her locker. She was feeling strangely nervous. A quick glance in the mirror showed her hair was falling out of its bun again. She pulled the clip from her hair and gave it a shake. Her hair tumbled in natural waves. She was lucky. It rarely needed styling. Should she redo her lipstick?

She pulled her plum lipstick from her bag and slicked some on her lips. There. She was done. She took a deep breath, reaching into the apron that she’d pushed into her locker for her array of pictures. Her last touch was the black suit jacket—the only one she owned. She’d used it for her interview with Clio some months ago and thought of it as her good luck charm.

Finally she was satisfied with how she looked. She’d never be wearing designer clothes, but she felt presentable for the role she was about to undertake.

She pushed everything else back into the locker and did her final job—swapping her square-heeled black shoes for some black stilettos. She teetered for the tiniest second and laughed. Who was she trying to kid? She pulled open the locker again and slid her hand into the inside pocket of her black bag. There. Drop gold earrings that her gran had given her for her twenty-first birthday. She usually only wore them on special occasions but in the last few months, and particularly at this time of year, she missed her gran more than she could ever say. She slipped them into her ears and straightened her shoulders, taking a deep breath.

There it was. The little shot of confidence that she needed. She glanced down at the papers in her hand and smiled.

She was going to give this hotel the spirit of Christmas no matter what.

* * *

He could hear a strange noise outside his room. Like a shuffling. After more than a few seconds it was annoying.

Finlay’s first reaction was to shout. But something stopped him. Maybe it was Alice Archer? Could she have come looking for him?

He sat his pen down on his desk. ‘Is someone there?’

The noise that followed was almost a squeak. He smiled and shook his head. ‘Well, it’s obviously an infestation of mice. I’d better phone the exterminator.’

‘What? No!’ Grace’s head popped around the door.

Grace. It was funny the odd effect that had on him.

She kind of sidled into the office. ‘I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you, Mr Armstrong.’

He gestured towards the chair in front of him. ‘It’s Finlay. If you call me Mr Armstrong I’ll start looking over my shoulder for my father.’

She shot him a nervous smile and walked hesitantly across the room towards the chair.

He tried his best not to stare.

Grace had already caught his attention. But now, she wasn’t wearing the maid’s outfit. Now, she had on a black suit and stiletto heels.

Finlay Armstrong had met a million women in black suits and heels. But he’d never met one quite like Grace. She had on a pink shirt with a funny tie at the neck.

And it was the colour that made him suck in his breath. It wasn’t pale or bright, it was somewhere in the middle, a warm rose colour that brought out the colour in her cheeks and highlighted the tone of her lipstick. It suited her more than she could ever know.

Her hair swung as she walked across the room. It was the first time he’d seen it down. Okay, so the not staring wasn’t going to work. Those chestnut curls were bouncing and shining like the latest shampoo TV advert.

Grace sat down in the chair opposite him fixing him with her warm brown eyes. She slid something across the desk towards him.

‘I just wanted to check with you.’ She licked her pink lips for a second. ‘How, exactly, do I use this?’

He stared down at the company credit card. ‘What do you mean?’

She bit her lip now and crossed one leg over the other. Her skirt slid up her thigh and he tore his eyes away and fixed on her eyes.

Big mistake.

‘I mean, do I sign—can I sign? Or do I need a pin number or something?’

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