‘Because I love weddings.’
‘Even now?’ Alim asked. ‘Even after...?’ He asked a question. ‘How old are you?’
‘Twenty-four and, yes, I still love weddings. I always have, since I was a little girl.’
‘And you’ve worked for Bernadetta for how long?’
‘Six years,’ Gabi said. ‘Before that I worked for a local seamstress. And when I was at school...’ She halted, not wanting to bore him.
‘Go on.’
‘I worked for a local florist. I used to work through Friday night to have the bouquets ready for weddings. I would get up to go to the markets before school...’
This was the passion Alim wanted in his staff.
‘I was very lucky that Bernadetta took me on.’
‘Why is that?’ he asked.
‘Well, I had no qualifications. My mother needed me to work so I left school at sixteen and Matromoni di Bernadetta has a good reputation.’
‘So how did you get an interview?’
‘I wrote to her,’ Gabi admitted. ‘Many times. After a year she finally agreed to give me an interview, though she warned me the competition was extremely tough. I had my friend Rosa make me a suit and I...’ Gabi gave a tight shrug. ‘I asked for a trial.’
‘I see.’
‘Bernadetta showed me a brief she had for a very important wedding and asked for my ideas.’ Gabi gave him a smile. ‘You’ve heard of fake it till you make it...’
‘Fake what?’ Alim asked.
‘I pretended that I knew what I was doing.’
‘But you did know what you were doing,’ Alim said, and Gabi swallowed. ‘You had already worked for a seamstress and a florist...’
‘Yes, but...’
‘And what happened with the ideas you gave her for this very important wedding?’
‘She incorporated some of them.’
‘So what part were you faking?’
Gabi frowned. ‘I’ve learnt an awful lot working for Bernadetta.’
‘Of course,’ Alim agreed. ‘She is at the top of her game. I have no hesitation recommending her. Still, I know that lately most of the credit should fall to you. Have you ever thought about moving out on your own?’
Her blush had all but faded and now it returned, though not to her chest. He watched as her cheeks darkened and her jaw tightened and Gabi was angry indeed, Alim knew.
‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘Alim...’ Gabi shook her head. She was loyal, even if it was misplaced, and she had also got into trouble for dreaming out loud before.
‘Talk to me,’ he said.
‘Why?’
‘Because I may be able to help.’
‘Bernadetta found out that I one day hoped to go out on my own, and she reminded me of a clause in my contract.’
‘Which is?’
‘That I can’t use any of the firms that she does for six months after leaving. I’d have to make new contacts.’
‘But you already use only the best.’
‘Yes.’ Gabi nodded, glad that he immediately got it. She had spent hours trying to explain it to her mother, who’d said she should just be glad to have a job. It was so nice to discuss it with Alim! ‘Those contacts weren’t all Bernadetta’s to start off with.’ Gabi had held it in for so long that it was a relief to vent some of her frustration. ‘The bride tonight is wearing Rosa’s creation. It was her lounge floor that I used to cut fabric on.’
‘Tell me,’ he urged.
So Gabi did.
‘When I first worked for Bernadetta we had a bride to dress and she had only one arm. So many of the designers shunned her, they did not want her wearing one of their creations. I was furious so I suggested that Bernadetta try Rosa. She scoffed at the idea at first but in the end agreed to give her a try—Rosa made the bride a princess on her day. It was a very high-profile wedding and so in came the orders. Now Rosa works in the best street in Rome. Rosa is my contact but of course I did not think to get that in writing at the time.’
Alim watched as Gabi slumped a little in her seat.
Defeated.
And then he fought not to smile as her hand went to her hair and she coiled a strand around her finger.
For after a moment’s pause she rose again.
Now she had started to air her grievances, Gabi found that she could not stop. ‘The flowers today, the gardenias—it was the florist’s idea to replicate the grandmother’s bouquet.’ Alim noted that Gabi did not take credit where it was not due and he liked that. ‘The florist, Angela, is the woman I worked with when I was at school. We used to work in a tiny store, now she is known as one of the finest bridal florists in Rome.’
‘So the best contacts are off limits,’ Alim said, and Gabi nodded.
‘For six months after I leave—and I doubt I could hold off for that long. That is assuming anyone will hire me as their wedding planner. I doubt Bernadetta will give a good reference.’
‘She’ll bad-mouth you.’
He said it as fact.
He was right.
Alim had thought he had the solution.
Right now, he could be wrapping the conversation up with the offer that Gabi come and work for him.
It was rather more complicated now, though, and not just because she liked him. Alim was very used to that.
It was that he liked her.
He acknowledged it then. Just a little, he assured himself.
But, yes, for two years the hotel had seemed warmer when Gabi was here. For two years he had smiled to himself as she clipped across the foyer in those awful heels, or muttered a swear word now and then under her breath.
He had never allowed himself to acknowledge her beauty but he could not deny it now.
She looked stunning.
Her hair was falling from its confines, her dress shimmered over her curves and how the hell had he not swept her into his arms to dance? Alim pondered. But the answer, though he denied it, was becoming
