Полная версия
In The Boss's Castle
Jessica Gilmore’s
brand-new duet
The Life Swap
Embracing a new life … discovering a new love!
Meet Maddison Carter, New York socialite, and Hope McKenzie, English homebody. These two women couldn’t be more different, but for six months, they will be swapping jobs, swapping homes and swapping lives! And in doing so they’ll meet two men who will turn their worlds upside down …
Enjoy Maddison’s story in In the Boss’s Castle
Available now
And look for Hope’s story, coming soon!
In the Boss’s Castle
Jessica Gilmore
A former au pair, bookseller, marketing manager and seafront trader, JESSICA GILMORE now works for an environmental charity in York. Married with one daughter, one fluffy dog and two dog-loathing cats, she spends her time avoiding housework and can usually be found with her nose in a book. Jessica writes emotional romance with a hint of humor, a splash of sunshine and a great deal of delicious food—and equally delicious heroes.
For Audrey, Rob, Josh, Michaela and Lily.
With much love always x
Contents
Cover
Introduction
Title Page
About the Author
Dedication
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
EPILOGUE
Extract
Copyright
PROLOGUE
Hi, Hope,
Truthfully I was a little shocked when they asked me to job swap with you for six months. I thought I was way too far down the food chain, especially since I changed careers and found myself back at the bottom of the ladder again. But I’ve never left the US—so my bags are packed, I actually have a passport and I’m on my way to London before they change their minds!
I guess you want to know a little about the stranger coming to take over your life? There’s no big scandals you’ll be glad to know, so no need to warn the neighbours or hide the family silver. I’m Maddison and I’ve been working for DL Media for just over three years, I started out in the PR and events team before Brenda, my boss (soon to be yours) poached me for Editorial. It’s a step down in some ways—back to making coffees and booking taxis and a lot less managing my own time, but somehow she convinced me that it’ll be worth it. It’s nice to be wanted for my brains and not my contact list, at least that’s what I tell myself when I pick up her dry cleaning. Because, in between the taxis and the coffee pick-ups, she is teaching me a lot—you’re lucky to be working with her.
She’s very focused, doesn’t see the point of any life outside work and is absolutely obsessed with glass ceilings and reaching full potential, blah-blah-blah. It’s not that I don’t want all that, I’m as ambitious as they come in some ways, but I do want more. I want it all. I want to meet the right guy and settle down, picket fence, big dog, rugrats and all. Don’t tell Brenda that!
I thought I’d found the right guy. Bart. AKA Bartholomew J Van De Grierson III. But turns out he’s not The One or rather I’m not The One for him. At least not right now. He wants a break. Thinks we should ‘explore other options’. So this opportunity has come at the right time for me. I’m exploring other options on the other side of the Atlantic and putting my career first for a change. Maybe working with Brenda has influenced me more than I knew!
I do hope he misses me at least a little, though...
So—New York! It’s the greatest city on earth, I promise. My biggest advice? Pack light! The good news is you’ll be living in the Upper East Side and it is fabulous! The bad news? No one expects to swing a cat in a New York studio, but mine...? You couldn’t swing a mouse. But, hey, location is everything, right? And when you sit on the fire escape with your morning coffee and watch the sun rise over Manhattan you won’t want to be anywhere else.
Welcome to New York. City of reinvention, city of dreams...
Maddison.
* * *
Hi, Maddison...
Welcome to London and London’s greatest borough. I’ve compiled a ‘Welcome’ file which tells you absolutely everything you need to know, in alphabetical order, from where the boiler is—and the number of a good plumber—to the best place to buy coffee locally. There’s a guide to buses and Oyster cards (no Tube here in Stokey) under T for Transport, and a comprehensive section on work (W for Work) to help you find your feet right away.
I hope you feel at home here. Stoke Newington is pretty sought-after now, but when my parents moved here it was still a scruffy, community-minded part of the East End—and even with all the swanky bars and yoga studios I miss the place I grew up in. Not so community-minded when you are more likely to bump into nannies and cleaners than neighbours, and everyone is obsessed with extending and rainforest wetrooms. But it’s still home and I can’t imagine living anywhere else. Except maybe New York, of course...
I am so excited about moving to New York for a whole six months. I’ve always wanted to travel but never had the opportunity. Faith, my younger sister, is on a gap year and seeing the world, lucky thing—but living in a new city and progressing my career? That’s an amazing opportunity.
I’ve also been at DL Media for around three years. Before that I was working at a local solicitors’ firm which fitted in with Faith’s school hours. But as soon as she was old enough for me to commute to work I came to DL, at first as a general PA, before getting the opportunity to work with Kit Buchanan as an editorial assistant.
Brenda sounds like just what I need—a real mentor. Kit, your boss-to-be, is... Well, he’s brilliant. Everyone agrees with that. It’s just I’m not sure he ever sees me. Sometimes I feel like I’m just a piece of efficient office furniture.
In fact it’s been a really long time since anyone has seen me as anyone worth knowing. It gets a little lonely, to be honest, especially now that Faith is making it very clear that now she’s grown up she doesn’t need me to fuss over her.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe it’s time to put me first.
Starting with New York!
Enjoy London.
Love, Hope x
CHAPTER ONE
MADDISON CARTER OPENED the opaque glass door, leaned against the door frame and held up her perfectly manicured hand, a piece of paper dangling from her fingertips. ‘Messages,’ she announced.
Kit Buchanan pushed his chair away from his desk and blinked at her. His expression might seem sleepy and unconcerned to the casual observer but after just four weeks Maddison knew better. ‘You could email them to me,’ he suggested, a teasing gleam in his blue eyes. This conversation was getting as predictable as the sunrise. So she used paper and a pen and preferred her lists on thick white paper, not on an electronic device? It didn’t make her a Luddite, it made her efficient.
‘And have you ignore them? I think not.’
Kit sighed. The soft here she goes again sigh he used about this time every day. ‘But, Maddison, maybe I like ignoring messages.’ His eyes laughed up at her but she refused to smile back, even a little. She wasn’t colluding with him.
‘Then get an answering service. Or a machine or just answer your cell phone every once in a while and then I...’ she brandished the list ‘...I wouldn’t have to tell your girlfriends that you’re in a meeting twenty times a day.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘Twenty times? How very keen.’
Okay, she might have exaggerated slightly but just one conversation with the terribly polite and terribly condescending Camilla was enough and three definitely enough to drive the most precise person to hyperbole. Maddison ignored the interruption and, in a deliberately slow voice, began to read from the paper. ‘Right, your mother called and said please call her back, today, and confirm you are going to the wedding, it’s a three-line whip and if you don’t RSVP soon she will do it for you. Your sister called and said, and I quote, “Tell him if I have to go to this damn wedding on my own I will make him suffer in ways he can’t even imagine and don’t think I won’t do it...”’
Maddison paused as she reread the words. She liked the sound of Kit’s sister, Bridget, with her soft, lilting voice and steely words.
‘And Camilla called three times, can you please answer your cell, how can she expect to get ready for a wedding in just a couple of weeks if you won’t even confirm that you’re taking her, you inconsiderate bas...’ She looked up and allowed herself one brief smile. ‘I didn’t catch the rest of that sentence.’
‘The hell you didn’t,’ he said softly. The smile still curved his mouth and he was still leaning back in the vast, black leather chair but the glint had disappeared from his eyes. ‘Everyone seems very keen to make sure I attend this wedding.’
‘If you would just RSVP they’d stop calling.’ Maddison didn’t care whether he went to the darn wedding or not. She just wanted to stop fielding calls about it.
‘I will, as soon as I’ve decided.’
‘Decided?’
‘Whether I’m going or not.’
Maddison heaved a theatrical sigh. ‘Great. Can I beg you to do just one thing? Put Camilla out of her misery.’ Sure, the woman spoke to Maddison as if she were some sort of servant, and sure, she sounded like a snooty character in a Hugh Grant movie, all clipped vowels and lots of long r’s, but she was getting a little more desperate with every call. Maddison would never allow herself to beg for a man’s attention but she knew all too well what it felt like to see the spark die even as she did her best to keep it going. Knew what it felt like to see the emails and texts diminish, hear the call go straight to voicemail.
Kit stared at her, his eyes narrowed. ‘I didn’t know that advising on my personal life was in your job description.’
Maddison took a deep breath, willing herself to stay calm. ‘Nor did I and yet here I am, taking calls from your girlfriend eight hours a day.’
‘Ex-girlfriend.’
‘She...what?’
His eyes caught hers, the blue turned steely. ‘Ex-girlfriend. She just wants to come to the wedding. Thinks if I take her to meet the parents then things might start again between us. So you see, I’m not a total git.’
Whatever that might be. Maddison stared down at the list, her righteous indignation draining away. ‘Okay. I apologize—although in my defence it seems that Camilla doesn’t understand the ex part of your relationship. Maybe she needs reminding. And you really should call your mother.’
He didn’t respond for a long moment and Maddison kept her eyes on the list, knowing she had gone too far. She was normally so good at keeping her cool but Kit Buchanan was just so...so provoking.
She started at his unexpected laugh. ‘There are times when you remind me of my school matron. I will, I promise. How are things looking for tonight?’
The abrupt turn of subject was a relief. She had spent far too long today on Kit Buchanan’s social life; work was a much safer subject. Maddison looked at her list again, composing herself as she did so. ‘The caterers are already there and setting up, so are the bar staff. The warehouse confirmed that they have sent two hundred books across ready for the signing. I got late acceptances from five people, their names have been added to the entrance list and the door staff are primed; three people sent in late apologies, I replied on your behalf and arranged for books and goody bags to be sent to their offices. Oh, and I popped into the venue last night after work and took a last look around. Everything is in order.’
‘Very efficient, as always, thank you, Maddison.’ The words were perfect but the amusement in his tone took the edge off his praise and despite herself she could feel her cheeks flush. Kit always seemed to be laughing at her and it was...unsettling. She wanted respect, not this knowing humour. But so far, no matter what she did, respect seemed to be eluding her. And, dammit, it rankled. She was usually so much better at impressing the right people in the right ways.
She certainly wasn’t used to feeling discombobulated several times a day.
She eyed her boss. He was still lounging back in his chair, an unrepentant gleam in his eye as he waited for her response. Hoping that she would lose her cool, no doubt. Well, she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction but, oh, her fingers curled; it was tempting.
It didn’t help that Kit was young—ish. Handsome if you liked brown tousled hair that needed a good cut, dark stubble and blue eyes, if you found scruffy chic, like some hipster cross between a college professor and an outdoorsman, attractive. Maddison didn’t. She liked her men clean-cut, clean-shaven and well turned out.
But, even if he wore head-to-toe couture, Kit Buchanan still wouldn’t be her type. Bart was her type: tall, athletic, with a good job in banking, a trust fund and a bloodline that ran back to Edith Wharton’s innocent age and beyond. Not to mention the brownstone. Breaking up with the brownstone was almost harder than saying goodbye to the man. She’d invested eighteen months in that relationship, spent eighteen months moulding herself into the perfect consort. All for nothing. She was back at square one.
Although, he had said a break. Maddison clung on to those words, hope soothing the worry and doubt clawing her insides. Everyone knew that taking a break wasn’t the same thing as breaking up. And if Bart saw that she was having an amazing time in London without him then surely he would realize he had made a very big mistake? Maybe this distance, this time apart was a good thing, the push he needed to take things to the next level.
She just needed to start having the amazing time. So far Maddison’s London experiences had been confined to work, takeaways and working her way through Hope McKenzie’s formidable box-set collection. Watching Sex and the City instead of living it. Surely she at least deserved to be flirting in the city?
Kit’s voice brought her back to her present surroundings—thousands of miles away from her unexpected failure. ‘Anything else on that list of yours or is it all neatly ticked and crossed out?’
Okay. This was it. She’d spent the last four weeks regrouping, licking her wounds, grateful for the opportunity to recover and plan far away from the all-too-knowing eyes of her New York social group. She’d been so sure of Bart, shown her hand too early and lost spectacularly. But it was time to reassert herself, professionally at least. Then maybe she would get her confidence—and her man—back. Maddison willed herself to sound composed, her voice not to tremble. ‘I think you should rewrite your speech for tonight.’
Kit went very still, like a predator watching his prey. ‘Oh? Why?’
‘It’s very clinical.’ She kept her eyes focused on him even as her knees trembled and every instinct screamed at her to stop talking and to back out of the door before she got her ass fired. ‘You’ve spent the whole four weeks I’ve been here absolutely absorbed in your work. You barely noticed that Hope had gone. You’ve been in before me every morning, not stopped for lunch unless you had a meeting and who knows what time you leave? But the speech? It has no passion in it at all.’
Kit didn’t take his eyes off her, his face utterly expressionless. ‘Have you read it? The book?’
Had she what? ‘I...of course.’
‘Could you do a better job?’
She flinched at the cold words, then tossed her head up and glared at him. ‘Could I write an introductory speech that sounds like I value the author, think the book is worth reading and convince the room that they need to read it too? Yes. Yes, I could.’
‘Great.’ He pulled his chair back to his desk and refocused his eyes on his screen. ‘You have an hour. Let’s see what you come up with.’
* * *
‘Great speech.’
Kit suppressed a sigh as yet another guest complimented him. It had been a great speech and he’d delivered it well, a nice mingling of humour and sincerity. Only he hadn’t written it. Embellished it, ad-libbed a little but he hadn’t written it. Maddison had been annoyingly right: his own effort had lacked passion.
Kit knew all too well why that was. Three years ago he’d lost any passion, any zest for life, any hope—and now it seemed as though he’d lost the ability to fake it as well.
Which was ridiculous. He was the king of faking it—at work, with the ever so elegant Camilla and her potential replacements, with his friends. The only place he couldn’t convincingly pretend that he was the same old Kit was with his family. Especially not with his family and with the wedding looming on the horizon like a constant reminder of all that he had lost. He needed to sort that out and fast. He knew he had to RSVP. He knew he had to attend. He just couldn’t bring himself to commit to it because once he did it would become real. Thank goodness for his new project. At least that helped him forget, for a little while at least.
Forgetting was a luxury.
He caught sight of Maddison, gliding through the crowds as untouchably serene as ever. Kit’s eyes narrowed as she stopped to murmur something in a waitress’s ear, sending the girl scurrying off with her tray. As usual Maddison had it all under control. Just look at the way she glided around the office in her monochrome uniform of black trousers and perfectly ironed white blouse like some sort of robot: efficient, calm and, until today, he could have sworn completely free of any emotion.
It was a shame. No one whose green eyes tilted upwards with such feline wickedness, no one with hair like the first hint of a shepherd’s sunset, no one with a wide, sweet mouth should be so bland.
But she hadn’t been so bland earlier today. Instead she had been bursting with opinions and, much as she had tried to stay calm, not let him see the exasperation in those thickly lashed eyes, she had let her mask slip a little.
And then she had written that speech. In an hour. Yes, she definitely had hidden depths. Not, Kit reminded himself, that he was planning to explore them. He was just intrigued, that was all. Turned out Maddison Carter was a bit of an enigma and he did so like to figure out a puzzle.
Kit excused himself from the group of guests, brushing another compliment about his speech aside with a smile and a handshake as he slowly weaved his way through the throng, checking to make sure everyone was entertained, that the buzz was sufficient to ensure the launch would be a success. The venue was inspired, an old art deco cinema perfectly complementing the novel’s historical Jazz Age setting. The seats had been removed to create a party space and a jazz band set up on the old stage entertained the crowd with a series of jaunty tunes. Neon cocktails circulated on etched silver trays as light shone down from spotlights overhead, emphasizing the huge, jewel-coloured rectangular windows; at the far end of the room the gratified author sat at a vintage desk, signing books and holding court. The right people were here having the right sort of time. Kit had done all he could—the book would stand or fall on its own merits now.
He paused as Maddison passed by again, that damn list still tucked in one hand, a couple of empty glasses clasped in the other. He leaned against the wall for a moment, enjoying watching her dispose of the glasses, ensure three guests had fresh drinks, introduce two lost-looking souls to each other, all the while directing the wait staff and ensuring the queue for signed books progressed. A one-woman event machine.
How did she do it? She looked utterly calm, still in her favourite monochrome uniform although she had changed her usual well-tailored trousers for a short skirt, which swished most pleasingly around what were, Kit had to admit, a fine pair of legs, and there was no way the silky, clingy white blouse, which dipped to a low vee just this side of respectable, was the same as the crisp shirt she had worn in the office. Her hair was no longer looped in a loose knot but allowed to curl loosely around her shoulders. She looked softer, more approachable—even though she was brandishing the dreaded list.
She was doing a great job organizing this party. He really should go and tell her so while he remembered.
By the time Kit had manoeuvred his way over to Maddison’s corner of the room she was deep in conversation with an earnest-looking man. Kit rocked back on his heels and studied her. Good gracious, was that a smile on her face? In fact, that dip of her head and the long demure look from under her eyebrows was positively flirtatious. Kit neatly collected two cocktails from a passing tray and watched as the earnest man slipped her a card. Did he know him? He knew almost every person there. Kit ran through his memory banks—yes, a reviewer for one of the broadsheets. Not a bad conquest, especially if she could talk him into positive reviews.
‘Flirting on the job?’ he said quietly into her ear as the earnest man walked away, and had the satisfaction of seeing her jump and the colour rush to her cheeks, emphasizing the curve in her heart-shaped face.
‘No. I was just...’
‘Relax, Maddison, I was teasing. It’s past eight o’clock. I think you’re on your own time now. This lot will melt away as soon as they realize that these are no longer being served.’ He handed her the pink cocktail before tasting his own blue confection and grimaced as the sweet yet medicinal taste hit his tongue. ‘Or maybe not. Is this supposed to taste like cough syrup? Anyway, cheers. Great job on the party.’
‘Thank you.’ It was as if a light had been switched on in her green eyes, turning them from pretty glass to a darker, more dangerous emerald. ‘Hope started it all. I just followed her instructions.’
‘The party favours were your idea, and the band, I believe.’
Her eyes lit up even more. ‘I didn’t know you’d noticed. It just seemed perfect, nineteen twenties and a murder mystery.’ The guests’ goody bags contained chocolate murder weapons straight out of a golden-age crime novel: hatpins and candlesticks, pearl-handled revolvers and a jar-shaped chocolate labelled Cyanide. The cute chocolates had caused quite a stir and several guests were trying to make sure they went home with a full set. Turned out even this jaded crowd could be excited by something novel and fun.
‘Excuse me.’
Kit looked around, an enquiring eyebrow raised, only for the young man hovering behind him to ignore him entirely while he thrust a card in Maddison’s direction. ‘It was lovely to meet you earlier. Do give me a call. I would love to show you around London. Oh, and happy birthday.’
‘Thank you.’ She accepted the card with a half-smile, sliding it neatly into her bag. Kit tried to sneak a look as the card disappeared into the depths. How many other cards did she have in there? And what had the young man said?
‘It’s your birthday?’
Maddison nodded. ‘Today.’
‘I didn’t realize.’ Kit felt strangely wrong-footed. How hadn’t he known? He’d always remembered Hope’s birthday although, come to think of it, that was because she made sure it was in his work calendar and lost no opportunity to remind him that flowers were always acceptable, chocolates even more so and vouchers for the local spa most acceptable of all. ‘I’m so sorry you had to work. I hope you have exciting plans for the rest of your evening and weekend?’
