Page 5 of Breathe
No way. No one was that good an actor. She went on, “Your clients will appreciate being put up in the Rosette when they come to town, and we can host anything from an intimate meeting for five to...” She turned to the last page, where a large room with high ceilings and spectacular chandeliers was decorated for a banquet. “A ball fit for a queen.”
Fielding stopped tapping the table. His gaze centered on her. “The Queen’s Ball? That’s you? I mean...” He waved a hand, seeming to apologize silently for his slowness. “I know, it’s the Rosette. But...” He looked at her again as if he’d only just noticed her. “You run it.”
The Queen’s Ball was the corporate event of the fall season. The Rosette partnered with a local foundation, charged huge prices per plate, and raised thousands for charity. Thousands more were spent on the food and decorations. Every penny was Ellen’s responsibility.
Fielding had attended all four years that she had run the ball. Each time he’d had a different hot chick on his arm.
Not that Ellen had paid attention.
“Haven’t you seen her there?” Lucía asked him.
“I—” He still held Ellen with those dark eyes. Her barriers shuddered. “I’m surprised I don’t remember you,” he said.
Shewasn’t. She’d developed such a dislike of him that she’d made a point of avoiding him as much as possible at the event. The only time he might have seen her was when she welcomed the chairman of the hotel and the charity at the beginning of the night, and she was on a stage dozens of feet away.
“Well,” she said, “there are fifteen hundred other people there.”
“Still,” he said, “I should have remembered you.”
Her inner ice castle shook again, and she wasn’t sure if it was from fear or... something else. That one speech was the worst part of her whole year. She had to dress to be noticed that night, to show the hotel in its best light, to put on her best Queen’s accent, to let man after man look at her, to shake hands and allow those hands to move occasionally to her elbow, or her back...
Anna appeared with the coffee tray. Fielding stood up, and even though the corner of the table was between him and Ellen, he suddenly seemed to take up so much space that she instinctively cringed. She tried to recover, to relax, but he had already noticed.
The scene froze. Fielding’s smile had finally gone; he was frowning at her. Ellen was trying to look back at him with her usual expression of cold disdain, while holding the arms of her chair in a death grip. Anna and Lucía looked between the two of them, evidently sensing that something had happened.
Fielding moved first, giving a small shake of his head, and took the tray. “Thanks, Anna,” he said, again with that more-than-boss-to-secretary burr in his voice. Anna left, closing the door behind her. Ellen wanted to tell her to leave it open, but that would mean admitting she was afraid, which she refused to do. This was just a business meeting, and she was safe. Safe, she reminded herself. She was suddenly so grateful for Lucía’s presence she gave her a smile, which Lucía returned with a slightly confused one of her own.
Fielding poured coffee for her and Lucía, then made himself a cup which he drank, black, almost in one gulp. He did the same with the second. He had to be burning the crap out of his throat.
Ellen put milk and sugar into her own coffee and drank it, feeling that she was missing something. Why was he so tired? Why was everyone so concerned about him?
With his third cup in hand, Fielding went over to his desk and leaned against it. She couldn’t help noticing how long his legs were, and how his thighs strained against the fabric of his trousers.
Now she burned her mouth on her own coffee.
“Let’s get to the numbers,” Lucía said, snapping Ellen out of her catalog of Fielding’s body. Ellen pulled out another piece of paper and went over the costs. He stayed by his desk, listening but not coming any closer.
“That’s a lot of money to commit to one place,” Lucía said when she’d finished.
“To commit to peace of mind? You know we can handle any event you throw at us.”
“I know you can handle it, but how long before you get transferred out of the country, and poor old Fielding Paper disappears into your rearview mirror?”
This was true. Lucía knew that Ellen’s visa was up in four months. To continue on the career path she’d been working on for ten years, she needed to move to other Rosette hotels, other continents.
“You’re leaving?” Fielding said. He’d put down his coffee and one hand was playing with a cigarette lighter, while the other tapped out a beat on his thigh. He’s late for his next cigarette. She was pleased to find that he had at least one fault. But then why had he smelled so damn good when she got close to him?
Focus, Ellen!Her career was all she had to work toward these days, and to move up the ladder, she had to go. The fact that the idea of leaving Boston dropped a lead weight into her stomach whenever she thought of it was irrelevant. “Yes. But our department, and my replacement, will make the transition seamless,” she added, mentally crossing her fingers. She didn’t know if her boss had begun looking for her replacement yet.
“I’m taking that into account,” Lucía said in a warning tone. She stood up. “Anything else?”
Ellen shook her head. “I’ll leave you this price list, and some brochures you can send around if you’d like,” she said, and began gathering her papers. Fielding hadn’t moved. He had his back to the windows and looked even more hooded and tired in the shadows cast by the weak fall sun.
When she couldn’t think of an excuse not to, she went up to him. “Thank you for the opportunity,” she said, holding her hand out, bracing herself.
He stood up, putting his weight back on his feet, and shook her hand. This time she didn’t pull away—didn’t feel she could, with Lucía watching—and the jolt that went up her arm at his proximity, at the way his hair brushed against his shirt collar, sent the heat rushing to her cheeks. He wasn’t smiling, for once, but watching her closely.
“It was... interesting to meet you, Ms. Hunter,” he said.
“Likewise,” she said, trying to keep her voice firm.
She was aware of exactly when his fingers wrapped around hers, and when, after a much longer pause than the first time, they pulled away.
