Proposal At The Winter Ball. Jessica Gilmore

most influential client.

      ‘That’s rather clear.’ Still that hint of mockery in her voice, her eyes assessing and cool as she looked at Flora, clearly not missing a single detail as she took in the mussed hair, the swollen lips, the wrinkles in the baggy dress.

      Camilla Lusso could have been any age between thirty-five and fifty-five although Alex suspected she was at the top end of the age range, but her expensively styled hair, subtle make-up and chic wardrobe made her seem timeless. A glossy, confident and successful woman. A professional woman who demanded top-class professionalism from everyone who worked with and for her.

      Flora was supposed to be impressing her, not being found drunkenly making out with the architect.

      Why now? Why tonight after all these years? He could blame the schnapps, he could blame the mountains framed through the windows, the warmth of the fire burning in the stove. It was a scene out of Seduction 101. But the only person he could really blame was himself. He should have backed off, backed away, laughed off the conversation—not been struck dumb with the thought of an alternate world. A world in which he might have been worthy of the adoration and desire shining out of Flora’s dark eyes.

      He had to fix this. Camilla’s eyes had narrowed as she assessed Flora. If she found her wanting in any way then Alex knew she’d turn her away, no matter how good her work.

      ‘I owe you an apology, Camilla. When I recommended Flora to you I wanted you to appreciate her for her own talent and so...’ He paused, searching for the right words, the right way to make this all right. There was only one way. To make the whole embarrassing scene seem perfectly normal.

      ‘I didn’t tell you that we’re dating. I’m sorry, I should have mentioned it but we agreed to be discreet this week, to put our relationship on the back burner.’ He allowed himself a wry smile. ‘Starting from tomorrow.’ He took Flora’s hand in his, pinching her in warning, hoping the shock of the last five minutes had sobered her up. Play along.

      To his relief she picked up his cue. ‘Pleased to meet you. I am very excited to be working with you and to help breathe life and colour into Alex’s designs. I didn’t realise I would have the honour of meeting you this evening otherwise...’ Flora gestured at her wrinkled dress, at her mussed-up hair ‘... I would have made more of an effort.’

      ‘But no.’ Camilla’s face had relaxed—as much as her tightened skin would allow—into a smile. ‘The apology is all mine. I should have warned you that I had changed my plans. I have interrupted your last evening of privacy.’

      ‘Oh, no.’ Flora’s cheeks were pink and her hand hot in Alex’s. ‘Not at all, we have mostly been working...’ Her voice trailed off at the knowing look on Camilla’s face as she said the last word.

      ‘It all looks absolutely fantastic, just as I envisioned.’ Alex took over the conversation, taking pity on Flora. ‘And the staff seem to know their roles perfectly—not that I would expect anything else from a Lusso Hotel. What time can we expect the guests tomorrow?’

      Camilla accepted a glass of wine from a discreetly hovering waiter and sat down on one of the chairs by the stove. ‘We’re expecting the first to arrive after lunch tomorrow. I am so pleased you agreed to spend this opening week with us, Alex. The majority of the guests are influential travel journalists and bloggers and I am sure they are going to have lots of questions about your inspiration for this beautiful building. But please, not all work, eh? You must take full advantage of the facilities while you are here.’

      Again she swept a knowing look up and down the pair of them. Alex gritted his teeth. ‘It’s my absolute pleasure. It’s not often I get to spend so much time in a building I designed after completion. It will be really interesting to watch it fulfil its purpose.’ Alex stole a glance at Flora. She was no longer flushed, rather she had turned pale, as if all the life had been leached out of her apart from the dark circles shadowing her eyes. ‘However, if I’m to ensure the Bali designs are perfect for our meeting at the end of the week and socialise appropriately I think we’d better turn in. We were on the road at five a.m.’

      ‘Of course. I look forward to seeing your designs, Miss Buckingham. Alex has been singing your praises. I can’t wait to be impressed.’

      * * *

      Flora had thought she knew all about humiliation. She was the high priestess of it, dedicated to short sharp bursts at regular intervals. There was the awful day her university boyfriend announced he was in love with her sister; the even more awful day her subsequent boyfriend admitted he was in love with Alex; the time she thought her last boyfriend had been proposing when he had, in fact, been breaking up with her.

      She had been going to refuse him, of course. But that so wasn’t the point.

      Her redundancy and the nasty smile on Finn’s face as he had watched her gather up her pitifully small box of belongings and get escorted from the building like a thief.

      Yep. High priestess of humiliation. Case in point: the week of catastrophes she had just experienced.

      But, nope. None of them equalled the scene just now. She would rather sit on a hundred strange men’s laps on any sort of public transport than relive the scene she had just left.

      Flora squeezed her eyes shut as if she could block out the memory by will alone. Kiss me, Alex.

      Oh, but he had. And it had been...it had been...

      Flora flopped onto the bed and searched for the word. It had been wonderful. Right until the moment he had pushed her away with horror in his eyes and disgust on his face. That bit had sucked.

      No. That had been the worst moment of her life. Bar none. Much, much worse than last time. At least she hadn’t asked him, begged him to kiss her then. She’d just misjudged a moment. She should have learned her lesson. She wasn’t what he wanted. Not in that way. Not then, not now.

      She could never face him again. She should pack her bags and escape down the mountain, at night, in thick snow. She couldn’t ski, didn’t have a car and Innsbruck was several miles below. But that didn’t matter, the exit plan itself mere details. The important thing was that she needed to escape and to pretend she had never ever laid eyes on Alex Fitzgerald with his crooked smile and red-brown curls.

      But then he would spend Christmas alone. And without her family what did he have? He would never show it, of course, never say anything but she knew. She saw the look of relief when he stepped through the front door into her parents’ hall. Saw him almost physically set down whatever burdens he carried around along with his overnight bag. Watched him relax, really relax, as he talked sport with Horatio—not that Horry had much of a clue but he tried to keep up. Watched the laughter lurk in his eyes as he half teased, half flirted with Minerva in a way no other mortal, not even her own husband, could get away with.

      He helped her dad in the kitchen, talked through work problems with her mum and was on Flora’s side. Always.

      No, he couldn’t be allowed to leave them. She would just have to grin, bear it and blame the schnapps. Not for the first time.

      And she would work hard. She would blow the caramel-haired, caramel-clad, tight-skinned Camilla Lusso’s designer socks off with her colour schemes, materials and designs. She would make Alex proud and this would be just a teeny footnote in their history. Never to be mentioned again. Never to be...

      What now? A knock on the door interrupted her fervent vowing. Flora pushed herself off the bed, smoothed down her hair. Please don’t let it be Camilla Lusso. There was no way she was ready for round two. ‘Come in.’

      A bellboy pushed the door open and smiled politely. ‘Excuse me, Fraulein. I have Herr Fitzgerald’s bags if now is convenient?’

      If now was what?

      ‘I beg your pardon?’

      ‘Frau Lusso asked me to move Herr Fitzgerald’s bags into your room.’ He opened the door a little wider, pushing a trolley through heaped