Page 15 of Forever Mr Black

Art smiles and puts an arm around my shoulders. “Yes, I am, very lucky. I tell myself every day.” He looks at me, a smile lingering on his lips before he drops his eyes to my cup of coffee. The smile fades. “Have you had any lunch?”

I guiltily look down at the cup.

He arches an eyebrow. “That’s not lunch.”

“It’s fine. I’m not even hungry.”

“You should eat something, Soph,” says Olly.

Art gives me an I-told-you-so-look.

“I’ve told you, I’m fine,” I insist.

“Can I have two ploughman’s brought up to my office, please, Olly?” Art says, ignoring me.

Olly gives a decisive nod. “Yep, coming up.”

Before I can argue, Art takes my hand in his, keeping it there until we reach his office.

Is there really any point in arguing?

“You need to eat. Coffee isn’t food,” he says pointedly, closing the door.

He’s trying to look after me, and I love it when he does this—usually. But today, the tonne of work I’ve still got left to get through takes the edge off it.

“I haven’t really got time for this. I’ve work to catch up on because I’ve been off for nearly a week. Not to mention, the online bookings have been pouring in for the final cocktail evening this weekend, and on top of that, I’m still waiting for the table plans for the Parker-Smith wedding next weekend.”

A mischievous smile plays on his lips as he listens to my tirade. “If you’ve got too much work on, then you really should speak to your boss about it.”

I fold my arms, not in the least bit amused.

Art frowns, turns his back on me, and walks across the room. I know he isn’t having any of it. “You’ve time for lunch,” he says, sinking down onto the chesterfield. He pats the seat beside him. “Sit. You’re not leaving until you’ve had a break and eaten something.”

Bossy sod.

I know too well that I won’t be going anywhere until I do as he said. And I’m too tired to argue. I’ll allow him to have his own way … this time.

I join him on the sofa, and he immediately scoops me onto his lap, as though I shouldn’t be sitting anywhere else. Even though I’m annoyed with him, my body instinctively relaxes against his.

Traitorous thing.

I relax into his arms and rest my head against the soft grey cotton material of his shirt. He slides an arm around my waist, reaches forward, and picks the iPad up from the glass coffee table. “Your idea for the cocktail evenings has been a big hit. I’ve just been looking at the feedback on Tripadvisor. See for yourself.”

I take the iPad and scan the reviews.Fantastic cocktails, one reads.A hidden gem,another states.

I can’t quite believe it. “This is great. The hotel hasn’t had this much positive feedback in years.”

“Apart from the wedding reviews,” he says, stroking his chin in thought. “I’m going to get some of the quotes put on the front page of the website. The Likes for the Facebook page have increased fifty per cent since the evenings have been up and running. It’s exactly what we needed.” He takes the iPad from me and puts it back on the table. “Now that I’ve been here a while and had the opportunity to get to grips with everything, there are some other areas where I think a few changes are in order.”

“What areas?”

“The management team.”

I frown, unsure of where he’s headed with this. “What do you mean?”

“I think George needs some support.”

“You mean, like a deputy?”

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