Back then her eyes had held incipient hero-worship too. A look he’d loathed. He had known then, as he knew now, that he was no hero, and the idea of adoration had flayed his soul. Sudden guilt thumped his chest. Pointless guilt. Ten years ago he’d done what had been right for Ruby—ripped her fledgling crush out at the roots before it developed into more. Because then, as now, he had known he couldn’t offer more.
Enough, already.
That had been then—this was now. And right now all Ruby’s eyes held was a cool wariness as she waited for him to start the interview.
So... ‘How did you
end up in the catering industry?’
‘After you and I...’ a small hesitation ‘...went our separate ways I started a waitressing job and enrolled on an adult education course. I worked every shift I could and studied the rest of the time.’ Sheer determination etched her features. ‘I wanted out of the hostel and out of the care system. I wanted to make my own way in the world and I wanted to do it as fast as possible.’
‘I get that.’
He totally understood the need to spend every second busy, busy, busy, until you fell into bed so exhausted that the past didn’t dig its talons into your dreams. He fully grasped the necessity of achieving success for your own salvation.
‘Once I got some qualifications the owner of the café I worked in offered me promotion to manager and I took it. From there I moved into hotel work, and...’
As she continued to outline her impressive career trail admiration touched him.
‘And your last job was front-of-house manager at Forsythe’s?’
Forsythe’s being one of London’s most prestigious restaurants. Graced by the rich and famous, it adjoined Forsythe’s Theatre, run by the Forsythe family for centuries.
‘Tell me about your experience there.’
‘I worked closely with the manager to give the restaurant a new touch. I introduced a Regency theme—spent hours trawling the internet, art shops and markets, finding some incredible items.’
All wariness clearly forgotten, she leant forward; her hands flying the air as she made a point, her classical features illuminated by enthusiasm as she described finding 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.