Thankfully, the door swings open and Louise pops her head around, ticking off a checklist on her right hand. ‘The extra security have arrived. The front gate’s been replaced with one wired to open electronically. Two of Mr Cooper’s men will police it themselves, checking residents’ bookings as they approach. Oh, and we might want to consider hiring someone to maintain this role after they leave, but I guess we don’t need to worry about that quite yet.’
‘Thanks, Louise. Anything else?’
‘The castle’s been inundated with bookings. There’s a cancellation list as long as my arm extending right up until the end of next year.’
I shoot Megan a smug, I-might-not-be-finished-yet look to which she rolls her eyes.
‘Conor’s asking for you in the kitchen. And we’ve had over two hundred email enquiries demanding to know if we’re hosting a Christmas ball this year.’
‘Well, that’s encouraging.’
Chloe will be pleased. There might just be hope for the castle after all. As much as I hate to credit Ryan with anything, his arrival has definitely helped my home, if not my heart.
Louise leaves. I down my coffee and push back my chair before Megan can continue her interrogation. She raises her eyebrows at me once again and nods to the humongous artwork of Velvet Strand.
‘Remind me again, exactly how many pictures of that beach hang around the castle?’
Heat creeps into my cheeks. ‘It was my parents’ favourite place.’
‘Hmm. The “parents” card! Can’t argue with that, can I?’ she teases. ‘Though, isn’t that the spot where you and lover-boy had your first kiss?’
That’s the trouble with having the same friend since forever. They know too much about everything.
‘Coincidence.’ I shrug, forcing down the memory of the first day Ryan’s hot lips touched mine. The day I was pretty much ruined for anyone else, and that was before the man became a world-famous sex symbol.
‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. Can you work up some projected figures for next year and email them to the accountant? For once, he might be marginally optimistic about our situation.’
Sashaying through the wide corridors, I make my way to the enormous kitchen. It’s filled with shiny chrome and steel worktops and appliances. The smell of rosemary, caramelised onions and simmering garlic assaults my senses. Soft jazz infiltrates the room through discreet speakers positioned around the room, barely audible over the low rustling sound of people at work, chopping and peeling, preparing tonight’s dinner.
Conor glances up from his station in the centre of the room, where he keeps a watchful eye on the chefs under his command. Cobalt eyes light when they land on me. His lips part and spread into a warm wide grin.
‘Hey, boss lady. Slumming it in the mere shallows?’ His joviality immediately brings a smile to my own face.
Placing down his knife, he uses his forearm to sweep his blond hair from his face before striding towards me.
Conor, like Megan, is one of my biggest champions. He’s so dear to me. Not only is he absolutely gorgeous, but simply being in his company is the equivalent of being enveloped in a deliciously safe and warm hug.
I drop an affectionate pat on his arm, noticing the swell of the bicep beneath the crisp white chef uniform. ‘I heard you wanted me.’
‘Oh, Sash, I’ve wanted you for years, please tell me you’ve finally copped on?’ He winks and drops an arm round my shoulder, squeezing me in an affectionate gesture.
‘Funny, Conor. You know, if you weren’t such a fantastic chef, I’d recommend you take up a career in comedy.’
His eyes sparkle and he shrugs again. ‘A man can only try.’
He says that, yet he never did try. Not really. Though neither did I, because if I did and then lost him, like I lost everyone else, it would have been the final straw in my fragile existence.
‘Is it about the influx of bookings? I’m going to email the agency this afternoon. I’ll have more staff by the weekend, even if it kills me.’
‘That’s good to know, but it’s not just that. I heard you’re going ahead with the ball. Is it a sit down meal? Do you want the full five courses? Or will we go with canapés and champagne this year?’
Last year, the sit down meal had been pretty much a disaster. So much waste. At least the homeless shelter had a mouth-watering Christmas dinner.
‘Let’s go with canapés, it’s safer, but make them really extravagant. I’m talking lobster, oysters, caviar. Go wild! Work your magic.’
‘Oh, I plan to.’ Conor presses a kiss on the top of my forehead. ‘Will you spare me an evening soon?’
Saliva floods my mouth. Conor’s perpetual teasing and flirting is commonplace, but is he finally asking me out properly? I never know when to take him seriously. And why now? Is it because of Ryan’s return? He’s one of few people who knows the whole story. I confessed the whole sorry debacle one night after too much red wine.
