a genuine two-hundred-year-old sketch of the theatre.
‘I researched new menus...liaised with customers—’ She broke off and a shadow crossed her face as she sat back in her chair.
‘Like Hugh Farlane,’ Ethan stated.
‘Yes. And many others.’ Her tone was noncommittal, her dark blue eyes once again guarded. ‘I hope that my experience at Forsythe’s ties in with whatever role you have in mind for me?’
‘Yes, it does. Let me tell you more about the position.’
And then, if she was interested, he would return to the subject of Hugh Farlane.
‘So, how much do you know about Caversham Holiday Adventures?’
‘A holiday company with a twist, Caversham offers very high-end packages that incorporate extreme sports and hotels with a difference around the world. Your clients include billionaires, jetsetters and celebrities. Your latest project is a castle in Cornwall.’
‘Correct.’
For a second Ethan lingered on his vision for the castle and adrenalin buzzed through him. The brooding Cornish castle had captured his imagination, fired him with a desire to do something different—to mix his business life with his charity work.
‘Renovation there is nearly complete, and I’m ready to get the restaurant up and flying. I need a restaurant manager to work with me on the design, the menus and the staff, and to plan a grand New Year’s Eve opening. The hotel opens for normal business January fifteenth. I know that’s a tight deadline. Especially with Christmas. Can you do it?’
‘Yes.’ There was not a sliver of doubt in her tone. ‘But I’m not sure I understand why you don’t already have someone in place.’
‘I did. We didn’t see eye to eye and he quit.’ It had turned out that the guy hadn’t bought into Ethan’s vision for the castle. ‘I’ve been interviewing for a week or so and no dice. This is an important project and I need the right person. You could be it.’
Her eyes lit up and for the first time since she’d entered the room a small, genuine smile tugged her lips up and sucker-punched him straight in the chest.
‘That’s great.’ Then a small frown creased her brow. ‘I can do the job,’ she said with utter certainty, ‘but as I am sure you are aware I am currently not the public’s most favourite person. Social media and the tabloids are awash with vitriol aimed at me—if you hire me there may be a backlash.’
Although her voice was even there was a quickly veiled shadow in her eyes that jolted him. Her words were an understatement—the comments being aimed at Ruby were vicious, awash with menace, and in some cases downright obscene.
Ethan’s lips tightened in distaste even as his brain clouded with a black shadow. The knowledge of the tragic consequences that could ensue after such unconscionable bullying twisted his very soul.
Pushing the dark memories away, he focused on Ruby. ‘I realise that. It’s not a problem. I stand by my employees because I trust them. Which brings me to my next question.’
Her credentials were excellent. Now all he had to do was confirm his gut instinct and make sure he could believe in her.
‘Go ahead.’ Her body tensed in palpable anticipation.
‘Obviously I read the papers, and I’ve seen the accusations that you are a gold-digger who used your position at Forsythe’s to attract Hugh Farlane. At Caversham you would be on the front line, liaising with my clients, so I need to trust that you will be delivering customer service without an eye on their wallets. You haven’t denied any of the allegations in the press. Could you clarify the situation for me?’
He leant back and waited for her to do just that.
Instead the smile plummeted from her lips with maximum velocity. Her hands twisted together so tightly that her knuckles clicked in protest, the sound breaking the depth of silence.
Then, ‘No comment.’
RUBY BRACED HERSELF as his brown eyebrows rose. ‘You’re sure you don’t want to expand on that?’
What was she supposed to do? Frustration danced in her tummy even as her brain scrambled for a way to salvage the situation. She knew she was innocent, but logic indicated that she could hardly expect Ethan to give her the benefit of the doubt without some semblance of an explanation.
But there was no way she could risk discussing Hugh Farlane—she knew the power he wielded. All it would take was for Ethan to go to the papers with her ‘story’ and whoomph—her life would go further down the toilet.
But, she wanted this job. The thought of a return to her solitary apartment for another ice-cream-eating stint was not an option. However much she liked double-double choc-chip.
Ugh. How had this happened? Ah—she knew the answer. The reason she was in this mess was because she had been a fool—had allowed herself to do the unthinkable and dream. Again. Dream that she could have it all—love and a family. Stupid. Dreams were fantasies, fiction. In real life she had to concentrate on real goals. Such as this job.
The drumming of Ethan’s fingers on the cherrywood desk recalled her to the fact that he was awaiting a response. The slight slash of a frown that creased his brow looked more perplexed then judgemental.
Come on. Answer the man.
‘I would like to expand further but I can’t risk it. Anything I say could be twisted, so it seems best to me that I say nothing. If you decide to quote me, or post something on social media, it will spark off another barrage of hatred.’ And consequences from Hugh that she didn’t want to contemplate. ‘And I... I don’t want that.’ She hated that quiver in her voice; she didn’t want Ethan to think her scared. ‘But I give you my word that if you give me a chance I’ll do a fabulous job for you and won’t let you down.’
His frown deepened. ‘And I give you my word that I won’t betray your confidence. There is no way that I would aggravate the situation.’
A shadow crossed his eyes and for a second Ruby saw a depth of pain in his eyes that made her want to stretch her hand across the desk. Then it was gone, and yet the deep sincerity of his words echoed in her brain.
For an insane second she felt the urge to tell him the whole truth. ‘I...’
Stop, Ruby.
Had she learnt nothing from the debacle of Hugh Farlane? She’d trusted him and look where it had landed her—up to her neck in metaphorical manure.
Yet it was impossible to believe that Ethan Caversham was cut from Farlane cloth. The man had saved her life ten years ago.
Yes, and then he’d vanished from her life without trace. Cut and run.
But he’d also bothered to call her for an interview.
Head awhirl, she hauled in breath. It wasn’t
