‘Sadly, you don’t get to decide where you go or don’t go. Tell me what sort of shop you have and what areas are of interest to you.’
‘A range of things, actually, although wine and everything to do with it is a large part of what I stock.’
‘Really? Then why on earth would you want to look around a department store?’
‘You stock food and wine?’
‘Yes, of course, but that’s a fraction of what we have in the store.’
‘I would be interested in finding out what the profit margins are for that particular department in comparison to the others,’ Rocco said smoothly. ‘In a fast-moving age, it’s good to find out what sells and what doesn’t, wouldn’t you agree?’
‘Yes.’ She was on more secure ground and relaxed. ‘I think the white-goods department has suffered because of onlineshopping. It’s so easy for people to flick through a website, find what they want and order it without having to trudge into a store to see what might not even be the full range of models on offer.’
‘So true,’ Rocco murmured.
She was preaching to the converted. He already knew the stats on which department was failing, and frankly not many in the store were succeeding, hence Ron finally agreeing to sell. Rocco had floated the idea two years previously. By then, his father had all but retired after suffering a stroke and, having been involved in his own extensive business concerns, Rocco had returned briefly to Spain to oversee certain changes he’d wanted to make for some time.
One had been to extend into eco-friendly, highly sustainable accommodation and office space. He had plans to be the leader in the field, and he’d met Hailey sufficiently often to have noted the decline in the department store which was in such a prime location close to Dublin city centre.
He’d made his move when he knew that the tipping point had been reached between holding on to the family legacy and letting it go because it was haemorrhaging money. He’d come here to make sure he wasn’t being conned into paying over the odds and to work out floor plans.
He already knew everything else there was to know. In fact, as the woman stood up and beckoned him to follow so she could show him what he was actually not much interested in seeing, he realised that what he really wanted was to find out more abouther.
‘People can be lazy,’ she said, walking ahead of him. ‘Footfall in stores makes high streets thrive. Hailey’s has been going for ever and it’s the heart and soul of the community. The morepeople shop from home, the more a place like this loses its identity.’
‘That’s a very impassioned speech.’ He caught up with her and fell into step. They had emerged into an open office space. Heads turned surreptitiously. She waved to a couple of people but didn’t break pace.
‘This is where all the paperwork gets done,’ she said without looking at him, but bee-lining for the lift. ‘Accounts, sales co-ordinators…customer services section.’
‘And you’re in charge of everyone on the floor?’
She pinged for the lift and he lounged against the wall and stared at her, noting the creep of colour into her cheeks.
‘Not everyone.’
‘But most.’
‘I handle the sales team, customer services and oversee one or two other areas as well.’
‘Tough call. For someone so young.’
The lift came. Ella stepped in, aware of him behind her and the way her whole body was burning, conscious of unvoiced questions surfacing for the first time since she had returned home. What was going to happen next in her life? What lay around the corner? She enjoyed what she did here, but was she really happy or was she simply biding time? Was this it?
She stared at the panel, mouth dry as uncomfortable thoughts ricocheted around her head. The silence dragged until she felt compelled to break it as the doors opened onto the floor below, dedicated to the failing section selling white goods, a handful of computers and phones, and the much bigger toy section which always pulled up profits.
‘I’ve had a lot of experience here at the store so when I…when I had to return I was fast-tracked to a managerial position.’
‘Had to return from where?’
‘Had to return from the place callednone of your business, Mr Rivero.’
Their eyes met, Ella’s appalled at her lapse in professionalism, Rocco’s openly curious at how her hackles had risen. That was definitely disproportionate to his inoffensive question.
Rocco was accustomed to women making themselves available to him and one of the ways they did that was to present themselves as an open book. They were always keen to elicit his interest. They didn’t set about shutting him down by being abrupt. This was new for him. But then, he mused, he wasn’t Rocco Mancini to her, was he? He was Jose Rivero and effectively she was in charge of him. She was going to be his boss for two weeks! He had to suppress a grin.
‘Point taken.’
‘Sorry. My apologies… I…’
