Reawakened By His Christmas Kiss. Jessica Gilmore

friendliness was disarming—and a relief after the frosty civility Finn had shown. ‘That’s good to know. Nice to meet you properly, Kaitlin.’

      ‘Penelope asked me to talk you through her strategy and plans so you can go to her with any questions before things get too manic. Is now good?’

      ‘Now’s great, thanks.’

      Alex looked at her neat notes, perfectly aligned, finding the long to-do list its usual balm. At first she had been at a loss as to why she was so urgently required. Penelope, Hawk’s laid-up Head of PR was organised and had clearly taught her junior staff well. Looking through her notes, strategies and task lists, Alex saw that it appeared that there was little left for Alex to actually do, apart from follow instructions. A job anyone with half a brain could manage. It didn’t seem worth her substantial fee, and her lurking suspicion that Finn had tracked her down and employed her simply to gloat about their reversal of fortune had deepened.

      But as she read on it became clear that the plan Penelope had put together would need careful tweaks and adjustments as the castle was finally opened to the public, and the potential press interest needed to be handled by someone with experience. It was a job she was confident any of the temps on her books could handle, but she could see that Finn genuinely needed outside help, and as it was unlikely he’d manufactured Penelope’s accident her presence here was in some way coincidental, even if her concern as to how he had tracked her down remained.

      After all, if he could then so could any of those journalists who still ran occasional stories on the fall of the Beaumonts.

      Kaitlin pulled a chair up to the desk. ‘So, the first thing is the media launch party. May I...?’

      Alex nodded permission and the younger woman manipulated the mouse on the PC Alex had been allocated and brought up the appropriate file.

      ‘Here are the notes and the event plan. It’s on Thursday night, and the party is for journalists, local dignitaries and VIPs. The castle will then have a soft opening for two weeks and will officially celebrate with a second, bigger party on the twenty-fourth of December. That party will include locals, colleagues, suppliers, partners...everyone, really.’

      Alex inhaled as she read the timeline.

      The official opening of the castle and grounds will be marked with a traditional Christmas Eve party.

      ‘Christmas Eve?’ Somehow she kept her voice calm.

      ‘Apparently it’s a real tradition at Blakeley. I hear the parties here used to be wild. Full of every kind of celebrity from pop stars to princes.’

      ‘Right. Then we need to make sure we publicise that angle.’

      Her heart began to thump; her hands felt damp. Christmas Eve. Her birthday. More than that, the day Blakeley had always celebrated Christmas.

      For generations, friends and lovers, enemies and rivals had descended on Blakeley on Christmas Eve to feast and dance, intrigue and plot.

      As a child Alex would spend the afternoon hosting a sumptuously over-the-top party for her friends—and then spend the evening darting through the dancing, flirting adults, sipping champagne from discarded glasses and sneaking canapés. No one had ever told her to go to bed. Instead she had been the spoilt princess of the house, petted and indulged, falling asleep on a chair or a sofa, where she would wake on Christmas morning to find herself covered with some discarded jacket.

      In her mid-teens the two parties had been combined, with lithe, knowing teenagers far too at home amidst the glamour and heady atmosphere of the adult affair. At least they’d pretended they were at home. Alex had been very good at pretending. Until the night of her eighteenth birthday, that was, when her world had become real for the first time—for a few blissful hours, until the moment when it had stilled and stopped for ever.

      She tried to inhale again, to take those sweet, calming breaths that kept her pulse even, her heart still, her head clear. But her breath caught in her throat.

      I can’t do this, she thought, panic threatening to flood through the walls she had built so carefully, so painstakingly, solid walls, covered in ivy and thorns, ready to repel all invaders. I can’t.

      But she could. She had no choice. Stay and deal with it or leave and run the risk of exposure.

      She was stronger than this. Nothing and no one could hurt her now. Blakeley was just a place, Christmas Eve was just a date, her birthday would go unremarked. She would show Finn that he hadn’t won. Not then, not now. And she would do so by making sure his planned launch ran absolutely perfectly.

      Gradually her pulse returned to normal, her emotions stilled, and she calmly made another note.

      Check the invite list for the Christmas party.

      ‘Okay,’ she said, her voice as steady as ever. ‘What’s next?’

      The conversation with Kaitlin was illuminating in several ways, taking up the rest of the morning and lunch. It had been a long time since her airline breakfast, and Alex had had no chance to get anything to eat, but Kaitlin ordered a working lunch, which the two ate at the desk as they finished going through the notes. Alex’s to-do list was getting satisfactorily ever longer.

      At some point in the afternoon the younger woman finally returned to her own desk and Alex sank thankfully into work. There she could forget that Christmas Eve had once meant something, meant everything, deep in the absorption that working out how to craft and manipulate a story gave her.

      As always, she lost track of time, and when she finally stretched and looked up she realised it was now dark outside, the office lights bright against the gloom. The room was almost deserted. Just a few people were left at their desks and they seemed to be packing up. Alex leaned back and stretched again, glad that the weeks ahead looked interesting but achievable.

      She would give Finn no reason, no excuse to find fault with a single thing she did. He had the power and the influence now. With one word he could tell everyone who she was—who she’d used to be—and trash her fledgling agency’s reputation. She wouldn’t have thought him capable once. She knew better now.

      ‘Alex?’ Kaitlin hovered by her desk, her bag already on her shoulder. ‘I’m off now. Is there anything you need before I leave?’

      ‘No, I’m fine. Thank you. You’ve been so helpful.’

      ‘I hope so.’ The younger woman looked pleased, brushing her thick dark hair away from her face as her cheeks turned a little pink.

      Alex looked around at the gleaming new office. ‘I guess you haven’t been based here very long?’

      ‘No, Finn’s been here since the summer, but the rest of us moved in October. There’s still a London office, but the plan is to scale it right back. For now some people are splitting their time between there and here. It’s easier for those of us without families, I guess. Finn has converted an old mill into flats and a few rent there. One or two rent in the village and quite a lot of us are in Reading—we’re not ready for a totally rural life just yet!’

      ‘It’s impressive that so many of you were ready to uproot yourselves.’

      ‘Finn’s so inspiring...his whole ethos. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.’

      ‘That’s reassuring to hear. I hope I’ll feel the same way.’

      ‘I hope so too.’

      The deep masculine tones made both Alex and Kaitlin jump, the latter’s cheeks going even redder as Finn sauntered towards them.

      ‘Loyalty is very important here at Hawk.’

      But it wasn’t Finn’s unexpected appearance that made Alex’s pulse speed up, and nor was it the sardonic gleam in his eye as he looked at her. It was the two small girls holding on to his hands. Finn had children? He had security, money, her old home and a family? Everything she had lost. Everything she would never have.

      The