Emergency Engagement

CHAPTER THREE

H OPE YOU DON ’ T have a problem with that...?

Have a problem with vanishing off to a place she’d never heard of in a part of the world she’d never visited to cook for a man she barely knew and had contrived to forget how much she didn’t like? All in an attempt to prove herself worthy of being given an opportunity to find a foothold in the culinary world, because he’d thoroughly trashed her chances there when he’d gazumped her on the deal she’d made to buy the place adjoining the hotel.

Why on earth would she have a problem with that? That was what she sarcastically asked herself on a loop over the course of the following two weeks as she got herself prepared for the shake-up in her life she’d been cornered into accepting.

Bitter though she was at the olive branch that had been handed to her—because she should never have been put in the position of having to have an olive branch waved in front of her in the first place — she had to admit that he was being generous. His PA emailed her with the contract outlining what was expected of her, the duration of her employment—one week on probation followed by the six-month contract—and of course her remuneration, which was more than generous.

At the end of her stint, she would easily have sufficient capital to find herself a suitable outlet for her business and buy herself somewhere decent enough to put down roots. Those months away would be challenging, of course, because she would know no one at all and would be going it alone, in charge and without a familiar face to guide her. The fact that she could fail to make the grade after all that cast a long shadow but she had no choice to speak of and would go with the flow.

For such a hard-headed businessman, guilt certainly seemed to have sunk its teeth into Rafael; but she still couldn’t manage to get herself to any place of gratitude because, generous offer or no generous offer, he was still as arrogant as he’d been as a teenager .

She was forced to confess to her mother that the deal with the hotel had fallen through and had plastered a smile on her face as she’d put as good a spin on the situation as she possibly could.

‘But...you’re going to... where —to be a personal chef because you can’t get the place at Clifford’s hotel? I’m just not following you. It all sounds very sketchy ... I thought you wanted to have your own place. It’s what you’ve spent years working towards! I just don’t understand what’s going on.’

Sitting across the kitchen table at her mother’s house, Sammy breathed in deeply and tapped into a reservoir of phony optimism she’d never thought she possessed.

‘It’s a thrilling opportunity!’ she trilled through gritted teeth. ‘In fact, I’ll bet not getting that silly place will end up being the best thing that’s ever happened to me!’

‘But all your plans to move upstairs so that you could own your own place as well as the bakery...’

‘Oh, Mr Moreno—or Rafael as I call him, seeing that we know one another—will be paying me sufficiently over the six-month period at his hotel for me to have quite some choice when it comes to another venue!’ She swept that observation aside, making sure not to mention the little technicality of a probationary period. Why muddy the water when her mother was actually buying into the whole change of plan?

Sammy would do anything to spare her mum needless worry and so a little finger-crossing was perfectly acceptable if it made her happy.

Oddly, having tentatively mentioned Rafael’s name to find that her mother had instantly remembered who he was, the fact that he was the billionaire who was now giving her this so-called chance of a lifetime somehow ended up reassuring her mother that all would be okay. This, despite the fact that the odious man had been responsible for ruining her future in the first place. Sometimes Sammy just didn’t understand her mother, but still, she was at least relieved that she seemed to have stopped worrying.

She got hold of as much information as she could about the Caribbean island where she might just end up spending a few months. It was small—a dot in the middle of the ocean—but with a good infrastructure and a thriving economy based on the export of sugar cane, cocoa and tourism. There were strict controls in place when it came to the number of hotels allowed, and the size of them, and there were draconian hoops to jump through for anyone not of local ancestry to get permission to own land and build on it.

Rafael’s name was mentioned as being one of the lucky ones. From the write up, the journalist in question obviously loved him, and Sammy abandoned reading about all the things he had done for the islanders after the first page. He obviously had a sprawling fan club, but thankfully she had no intention ever of signing up to become a member.

She knew that he would be travelling ahead of her, which was blessed relief. But, at dawn on the day that he had arranged for the chauffeur to collect her, she was suddenly floored by an attack of nerves and almost wished that he was going to meet her at Gatwick after all.

The bravado she had nurtured over the past fortnight, when she had been busy planning what to take and preparing detailed lists of what she would need on the catering front, seemed to have deserted her. At six in the morning, with wintry dark skies outside, she scrutinised her reflection in the mirror in her bedroom and tried not to feel sick with nerves.

It was going to be hot when she got there. She would be leaving horrible weather and stepping out into hot sun—at least, according to everything she had read. When she looked at herself, what she saw was a confusing sight: light jeans and a white tee-shirt underneath a thick cardigan with a duffel coat and a woolly hat. She looked like someone who hadn’t a clue where she was heading or what to expect, and so had dressed for all eventualities.

The time had come—no backing out now. Her phone buzzed: a text message from Rafael’s driver, which had been the agreed communication when Rafael had arranged for her to be collected. Her lift was here. She gave one last look but, as she pulled her cases out to the front door, she wondered whether her jumbled sartorial choices reflected the jumble of emotions running through her and the confusion of not knowing what to expect when she got to the other side.

The sun had just about set as Rafael approached the airport terminal. It was easy finding a spot to park because the terminal was tiny and the car park, for reasons that escaped him, was unnecessarily large. The sky was indigo and, even though he was at an airport, he could still hear the sounds peculiar to tropical nights: the clicking of crickets blending into the background noises of frogs and toads and all the other small creatures that emerged at night.

Planes were not on a loop here. The sky was empty but, as he parked the small four-by-four, he could hear the distant roar of one swerving towards the little island, so perfectly positioned that it always escaped the annual round of hurricanes that cut a swathe through some of the other islands further north towards Puerto Rico.

He’d had minimal contact with Sammy since they’d parted company a couple of weeks ago. A contract had been emailed, conditions laid down and signatures received. He had instructed his PA to email her with some information about where she would be going, and he had personally emailed her confirming numbers and telling her that she would have to be equipped to cater for two vegetarians. In return, she had sent him a list of basics she would need including an assortment of meats, fish and prawns, which could be frozen and used as appropriate. She would get fresh stuff when she arrived. They’d been business-like communications.

He’d felt the need to put some distance between them, although he couldn’t quite understand why. This was about business, and it should have been clear cut, but she’d somehow got under his skin and he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head for the past couple of weeks. He’d thought of her, angrily jabbing her finger at his audacity. He’d married it to memories of her as a teenager, and had been unnerved by how much air time she’d taken in his mind.

Rafael sighed and vaulted out of the car. Perhaps he should have taken a slightly more personal approach, especially given the situation in which he had recently found himself, which had turned out to be rather delicate, to say the very least. He needed Sammy on side rather than glaring at him from under her lashes.

The airport was busy. People were coming to collect friends or relatives, others arriving to drop off. It was still very warm, even though the sun was setting, and despite a light breeze. He was half-enjoying the sing-song lilt of the voices around him as he strolled towards the pick-up point outside the little terminal. Mostly, though, he was thinking about how he was going to play this one out.

He almost missed her as she appeared through the open side of the terminal where a stream of arrivals was making its way out, pulling bags, or else with bags loaded onto trolleys being pulled by the guys who worked at the airport.

Sammy was gazing around her with a lost expression, a chunky cardigan loosely knotted around her waist, in pale-blue baggy jeans and trainers and with a couple of pull-along cases with a coat draped over the handle of one. She looked very young and very wide-eyed, the breeze riffling her short dark hair, blowing it this way and that. Their eyes met and, even in the semi-darkness, he could make out her sudden stiffening as he walked towards her.

‘Sammy.’

Sammy blinked. Eight and a half hours had taken her from a cold and bleak England to...somewhere that felt like another planet. The sky was clear and the heat was seeping through her clothes, making her perspire, and the noises were ones with which she was utterly unfamiliar.

She’d been abroad, but never anywhere tropical and, the minute she’d stepped out of the plane onto the stunted ladder that led down to the tarmac, she’d been confronted with the reality of just how much was about to change for her.

Frankly, everything —which had fired up another flare of resentment towards Rafael, the employer she hadn’t asked for and certainly didn’t want. But, now that she was here and he was towering over her, he seemed like an anchor in these unfamiliar waters.

‘Let me take your bags. Is this all you brought with you? Tell me how your flight was—was it okay? I find first class always makes the most of a tedious experience.’

‘I didn’t expect you to come and meet me.’

‘That wasn’t the original plan,’ Rafael murmured soothingly. ‘But then I thought that here you were...a stranger in a strange land and you might find it helpful to see a face you recognise.’

They were heading towards the car park. The horizon fading away into a darkening sky looked limitless...a stretch of colour uninterrupted by buildings, housing, factories or even the usual network of busy roads that led out of airport terminals.

Sammy breathed in a heady aroma of exotic trees and plants and then eyed Rafael suspiciously out of the corner of her eye.

‘You’re being very nice to me, Rafael.’

‘I didn’t realise that was a crime. Here we are. The cars here are usually driven for their usefulness, hence this four-by-four pick-up. It can tackle all manner of poor roads.’

‘You mentioned that you weren’t going to meet me because your contingent of guests would be at the villa. Won’t they be missing you?’

‘They’ll all big boys and girls. They can cope for a couple of hours.’

‘Is that how long it’s going to take to get to your villa?’ Sammy frowned and clambered into the passenger seat. ‘I didn’t think that the island was that big...’

‘It’s not. Ready?’

He swivelled so that he was facing her. Their eyes met in the darkness of the pick-up and Sammy blushed. Her comfort zone was several thousand miles and over eight hours away. She shivered, and for a few seconds her brain went completely blank because, up close and personal like this, the sheer power of his presence and the force of his incredible, suffocating masculinity hit her like a sledgehammer.

She’d spent the intervening time reminding herself that she disliked him...but now the past and the present rushed at her, giving him form and shape, and making him more than just a convenient cardboard cut-out of a bad guy.

It took her a couple of moments before her brain re-engaged and, just as he turned the engine into life and began reversing out of the space, she said, ‘So why is it going to take so long?’

‘Thought it might be an idea to take you somewhere...so I could brief you on what to expect.’

Sammy relaxed against the head rest and smiled.

‘I think I have a pretty good idea of what to expect.’

‘You do?’

‘Thirteen people...’

‘Fourteen, as it happens,’ Rafael corrected.

‘I thought you said that there were going to be six couples and a singleton.’

‘My apologies. There was a last-minute addition. Clement Hewell was always scheduled to come—he’s frankly the overriding lynchpin in this deal—but originally he was coming solo. As it turns out, he’s accompanied by his recently acquired girlfriend, Victoria.’

‘Okay. Seven couples. It shouldn’t make a difference to the catering.’

‘You were saying that you know what to expect. Is this on the food front or on the people front?’

‘Both, as it happens,’ Sammy said. She shifted so that she was leaning against the door and looking at his sharp profile. She was too tired to argue, and besides, the conversation felt soothing and non-confrontational.

She might not enjoy the reasons that had brought her here but there was something oddly invigorating about being in this man’s presence. Maybe it was the challenge of proving to him how good she was at what she did—that the gauche teenager he vaguely remembered had turned out into a capable woman with a career path ahead of her. Maybe there was something gnawing away inside, something that wanted to show him that he hadn’t left a bunch of country bumpkins behind in his headlong rush to become a billionaire.

The silence thickened as the pick-up gathered pace, clearing the confines of the airport and heading out into quiet, dark roads, sporadically lit and interrupted by a lazy stream of cars and vans. She realised that he was waiting for her to continue.

‘On the food front, I always tend to over-cater, but from experience when it comes to... I’m not sure how to put this...’

‘Don’t mind me,’ Rafael murmured with amusement in his voice. ‘You have to remember that I wasn’t always loaded. My sensibilities are a lot less delicate than you could ever imagine.’

Sammy relaxed, something she hadn’t expected to do. ‘Okay. From my experience, rich people don’t tend to eat a huge amount, and definitely not the wives and partners of rich men. They fiddle with their food and pick at it because they’re always watching their weight.’

Rafael chuckled.

‘Isn’t that a generalisation?’

‘Maybe,’ Sammy admitted. ‘But I’m just saying what I’ve observed over the years. So I’ve planned great food, keeping it nice and tasty, using local ingredients, which I’ve looked up, and I intend to make sure that I don’t have much wastage. By the way, thanks for getting the basics in place for me. I really believe in not throwing anything out and it upsets me when I have to.’

‘Very good.’

‘Is that what you wanted to brief me on—picky eaters? Can I ask if everyone has arrived?’

‘Two days ago.’

The darkness had gathered around them. Sammy could feel it pressing against the window of the air conditioned four-by-four. She was drawn to stare out at the passing scenery: the outcrops of houses against hills; the empty vegetable and fruit stalls by the side of the road; the sudden bursts of lively bars and rum shops with people congregated outside, drinking and laughing.

She was also driven to look at the man behind the wheel. The longer she looked at him, the harder it was to think straight, so she dragged her eyes away and stared ahead. That was much easier.

‘How’s it going? Or is that none of my business?’

Rafael didn’t answer.

She’d relaxed, which was good. It was difficult not to relax over here. There was something about the heat and the techni-colour natural beauty of the place...

Rafael made a right, heading towards the small, bustling town which struck a nice balance between being authentic and serving up some great restaurants and cafés frequented by tourists for the most part. He personally preferred the out of the way places where the locals gathered, but then he knew the place like the back of his hand, and was well known in the community.

‘I know you’ve been up and moving for quite some time, and you’re probably in need of a shower and sleep, but, like I said, er...’ He fished around for the right tone of voice and the correct choice of words.

‘I don’t need a lesson on how to behave around your guests, Rafael. I can handle myself around people—even rich and important people, believe it or not. Experience as a personal chef is great when it comes to teaching you how to socialise, even with people you may not have much in common with and might actually dislike.’

‘There’s a way of doing that?’ He slid dark eyes across to her.

‘It involves a lot of smiling.’

‘You’ll have to teach me some time,’ he murmured. ‘I’ve always had a problem with that.’

‘I know.’ Sammy laughed. ‘I remember once seeing you outside the principal’s office. I have no idea what you’d done but you must have done something.’

‘I was always doing something. Looking back, the guy had the patience of a saint...’

‘Anyway, you were chewing gum and had your legs stretched out and you were playing something on your phone. You didn’t look as though you were going to be smiling your way through whatever punishment was in store for you. At any rate, I’ll be perfectly fine finding my feet.’

‘I’m not doubting that for a second.’

‘Aren’t you?’

‘No.’ He turned to her and their eyes met briefly. ‘You don’t strike me as being afraid of much. You did show up at my office and yell at me because I’d bought the hotel from under your feet. I’ve probably been scarred for life.’

He grinned. ‘So, no need to become defensive. I have every confidence in your culinary capabilities as well as your social savoir faire . I had a look at your social media profile. You’ve had a convincing amount of experience working in different milieu—different restaurants with different chefs, and also catering for the rich and famous. It might have been a slow climb for you but not because you haven’t excelled along the way.’

‘No need to over-egg the pudding,’ Sammy muttered, burning with a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment.

‘I’m being truthful.’ The main road, such as it was, had been left behind and they were now in the capital. It was a charming mix of restaurants, bars and shops, from the sophisticated, catering for wealthy tourists, to the authentic, where the locals tended to hang out. Rafael eased the pick-up into a spare bay along a buzzing little street that was bustling with people. ‘Are you always this prickly when you’re paid a compliment?’

His dark eyes roved over her flushed face. ‘Look,’ he said softly, raking his fingers through his hair. ‘What I want to talk to you about has nothing to do with...your abilities to cook or mix or anything like that. Not at all. You couldn’t be further from the truth.’

‘Then what?’ She hesitated. ‘Have you...have you decided that I won’t be suitable for the...for the...?’

‘Let’s go inside.’ He nodded to the bar directly opposite them but his eyes remained pinned to her face.

He climbed out of the pick-up, hit the passenger side before she could even open her door and rested his hand on hers to help her down because it was a crazily high vehicle.

His fingers were cool against hers and sent a tingle through her as he touched her. What was going on...?

Sammy had expected a number of things, starting with sickening nerves, disorientation and borderline panic, all mingled with a healthy dose of sourness and resentment. She hadn’t expected to feel at all relaxed, not at any point; nor had she expected to see any funny side to Rafael and she certainly hadn’t expected him to be... hesitant with her about anything.

And yet, she had sensed his hesitancy when he had brought her here and suddenly she realised that she wanted this job a lot more than she had told herself. She’d worked and worked and worked to get this far and she couldn’t face any more setbacks in her quest to forge her own path. She didn’t want to have to start thinking about putting aside more money so that she could find somewhere else, somewhere that wouldn’t be half as suitable as the hotel, which was no longer even a possibility.

She’d subconsciously started making plans with the money he had dangled in front of her, even though she had fought against the temptation; she had hung onto the reality that there would still be a probationary period to climb over, not to mention the sickening prospect of being on this island on her own, making decisions that would affect her future. Bracing lectures to herself could only go so far.

She nervously detached from him as soon as her feet hit the ground. ‘So, want to tell me what’s going on?’ she asked.

Silhouettes of palm trees swayed all around them, a thick, dense forest leading to the sea; it wasn’t visible yet, but she could tell it was there from the salty aroma in the air. The stars were tiny, glittering diamonds in a velvety black sky and the warmth penetrated even her thin tee-shirt and the loose jeans. Even the fact that they were in a bar couldn’t detract from the dramatic splendour of their surroundings. In the darkness, all she could make out was Rafael’s powerful build and his chiselled facial features.

‘What’s going on is that there’s a slight spanner in the works.’ Rafael cleared his throat.

‘Meaning? Look, if you’re having second thoughts about taking me on after this stint, then that’s fine. There’s no need to think that I’m going to take you to court because of a stupid contract.’

‘Point of order—you couldn’t. The contract stipulates complete freedom for me to release you without obligation should I no longer think that you can handle the six-month part of the job at my hotel. Didn’t you read the fine print, Sammy?’ He shook his head. ‘Anyway. This isn’t to do with that. It’s to do with...how can I put this?...a certain delicate situation that’s, er, arisen concerning one of the guests at my villa...’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Let me get you something to drink. They do an excellent rum punch here.’

He ordered drinks and nibbles while Sammy looked at him in utter bewilderment. She was barely aware of a cocktail being put in front of her or of the plate of nibbles. He’d told her that whatever he had to say had nothing to do with her contract but, in that case, for the life of her she couldn’t work out where this was going.

‘The couple I mentioned... Clement Hewell and the woman he’s brought with him...’

‘Yes...?’

‘He’s an important player in this particular game. He needs to be persuaded into parting with the company because, without him, the various other IT and software companies would find it hard to amalgamate. His company has certain software programmes that are vital for the whole tie-up to be possible, and that means a lot, because a lot of jobs depend on this deal. Without his contribution, the deal falls apart, and with it two of the companies, which will splinter, and that will affect a lot of people’s livelihoods. The climate’s not great for job hunting, and I personally know of the dozens that will be let go if this doesn’t go through; most are nearing retirement age and would struggle to find anything else.’

‘That’s just awful, Rafael, but I honestly don’t know where you’re going with this.’

‘The woman hanging on Clement’s arm? As luck would have it, I actually know her.’

‘Which is a good thing?’

‘Which is very much not a good thing.’

‘But surely catching up...?’

‘Clement is a decent, honourable guy in his seventies. I’ve met him over the years at social events. He’s well known in financial circles as a mover and shaker, who’s also honest, fair and extremely generous when it comes to giving to charity.’

‘That’s really good to hear...but I’m really not sure where you’re going with this.’

‘Victoria,’ Rafael expanded, ‘is a twenty-nine-year-old ex-catwalk model.’

There was a moment of puzzlement, then Sammy relaxed and grinned. Then she burst out laughing, her green eyes lighting up with genuine mirth.

‘I get it.’

‘Tell me.’

‘She’s an ex-girlfriend of yours.’

‘From four years ago.’ Rafael shifted uncomfortably. ‘A brief liaison.’

‘No need for details.’ She was still grinning. ‘That’s not the end of the world, though, is it? Haven’t you been out with lots of catwalk models in the past?’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘I’ve caught the occasional article.’

‘You mean you’ve been stalking me?’

‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ she said drily. ‘I read the occasional tabloid and I’ve seen the occasional picture. Not my fault there are reporters around who can’t think of anything better to do with their time than take photos of you and whatever woman you happen to be going out with.’

‘Ouch.’

‘What I’m saying is,’ she said loftily, ‘is it’s hardly a crime for an ex to go out with someone else and for you to bump into them later on as a couple—although the age difference is a little concerning.’

‘If only it was that easy,’ Rafael said, the grin fading, his voice quiet and deadly serious. ‘The first day was okay, but last night there was a knock on my door. I opened it to find her standing outside in a bathrobe with nothing on underneath. I managed to get rid of her, but this could prove to be a very worrying situation. It’s not just the nightmare of having to be on the alert twenty-four-seven, and it’s not even the inconvenience of a situation arising that might be seen as compromising through no fault of my own...’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning,’ Rafael said wryly, ‘she’s caught flinging herself at me and whoever happens to be around leaps to an incorrect conclusion. I can’t say I care what people think of me but, like I said, this is a very big deal and a lot is riding on it. I’d rather not risk Victoria getting it into her head to scupper it if she can through sheer malice. Clement is in a fragile place at the moment, recovering from the death of his wife a year ago, and old men in fragile places can sometimes be foolish. From the looks of it, he’s in the foolish phase, besotted with the damn woman. He’ll come to his senses, but this couldn’t be a worse time for this to be happening. What I’m saying is, if Victoria gets it into her head to use her influence to spite me because I’ve rejected her, well, let’s just say there will be some very desperate casualties looking for jobs they probably won’t easily find.’

‘Why don’t you just tell her that you’re not interested? Why would she be spiteful? Surely if you explain...?’

‘It was something of a messy break up.’

‘Are you saying that she wanted to hang on in there after you’d given her her marching orders?’

‘That’s quite a colourful way of putting it, but essentially, yes.’

‘So she’s still got feelings for you.’

‘So it would appear.’

‘I get your point. People do crazy things when they’re vulnerable and your friend...well, you say he’s vulnerable, but still, I’m not sure why you’re telling me this when it doesn’t involve me. Unless you want me to take her under my wing in the kitchen and teach her how to make puff pastry to take her mind off vengeful thoughts? Puff pastry will do that to a person.’

The joke fell flat.

‘Actually.’ Rafael suddenly looked uncomfortable, uncomfortable enough for Sammy to feel a shiver of apprehension thread through her. ‘This concerns you a little more than you might expect.’

‘How so?’

‘Because you and I are an item...’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Practically engaged, as it happens. Just for the week, you and I are very much in love. It was the only way I could get her off my back...’