Christmas in the Boss's Castle

‘We need to talk about that.’

‘Why?’

Finlay reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the cheque he’d written. ‘I need to pay you for your services.’

Grace looked down and blinked. Then blinked again. Her face paled. ‘Oh, no. You can’t give me this.’

‘Do you want to get Clio to bill me, then? I’m not sure why, though—this is different from the work you do for the agency.’

Her fingers were trembling. ‘You can’t pay me this much.’

Ah. He got it. It wasn’t how he was paying her. It was how much he was paying her.

‘I can increase it,’ he said simply.

Her eyes widened even further. ‘No.’

It almost came out as a gasp.

Ah. Now he understood.

‘Grace, I based this on what we paid our last interior designer, plus inflation. That’s all. As far as I’m aware, this is what I’d normally pay for these services.’

The waitress appeared and set down their plates. She’d caught the tail-end of the conversation—and glanced at the cheque under Grace’s fingertips before making some kind of strangled sound.

Grace was looking distinctly uncomfortable. Finlay waved his hand and looked at the food in front of him. ‘Take it, it’s yours. You did a good job. You deserve it.’

He’d decided to follow Grace’s lead. The croissant in front of him was stuffed with tuna and melted cheese. Salad and coleslaw were on the side and the waitress came back with steaming cups of coffee. She winked at him. ‘Try the rhubarb pie after this, it’s to die for.’

He almost laughed out loud. She’d seen the cheque and would expect a decent tip. He could do that.

‘I think I might have to lie down after this,’ he said, taking in all the food on the plate.

Grace was still watching the cheque as if it would bite her. He picked it up again and looked under the table, sliding it into her bag.

‘Let’s lunch.’ He said the words in a way he hoped she’d understand. The amount wasn’t open to debate. ‘Where do you live?’

‘What?’ That snapped her out of her dreamlike state. ‘Why?’

He shrugged. ‘I’d like to know a bit more about the woman I’m having lunch with.’

Didn’t she want to tell him where she lived?

She lifted her knife and fork. ‘I live in Walthamstow,’ she said quietly.

‘Did you go to school around there?’

She nodded but didn’t add anything further.

‘How long have you worked for Maids in Chelsea?’

Her shoulders relaxed a little. That seemed a more acceptable question. ‘Just for a few months.’ She met his gaze, ‘Truth is, it’s the best job I’ve ever had. Clio, the boss, is lovely and the rest of the staff are like...family.’

Family. Interesting choice of word for work colleagues.

‘What did you do before?’

She smiled. ‘You name it—I’ve done it.’

He raised his eyebrows and she laughed. ‘Okay, there are certain things I’ve never done. But I have had a few jobs.’ She counted off on her fingers. ‘I worked in the local library. Then in a few temp jobs in offices. I worked on the perfume counter of one of the department stores. Then I got poached to work on the make-up counter.’

‘You got poached?’ Somehow, he could see Grace with her flawless complexion and friendly personality being an asset to any make-up counter.

She nodded. ‘But it wasn’t really for me. I had to eventually give up due to some family issues and when I needed a job again Maids in Chelsea kind of found me.’

‘Family issues? You have children?’

She shook her head and laughed. ‘Oh, no. I’d want to find a husband first.’

He hadn’t even considered the fact she might have children, or a husband! What was wrong with him? He tried to tease out a few more details. ‘So, you haven’t found a husband yet?’

She shook her head again. ‘I haven’t had time.’ She looked up and met his gaze. ‘I’ve dated casually in the last few years, but haven’t really had time for a relationship.’

Due to her family issues? He didn’t feel as though he could press.

‘I take it you were brought up in Scotland?’

He smiled. ‘What’s the giveaway?’

She laughed and took a sip of her coffee. ‘Is Sean Connery your father?’

‘Sean Connery wouldn’t have got a look-in. My mum and dad were childhood sweethearts. They lived next door to each other from the age of five.’

Grace set down her knife and fork. ‘Oh, wow. That’s so nice.’

It was nice. His mum and dad’s marriage had always been rock solid, even when half the people he’d gone to school with seemed to have more step-parents than grades at school.