Redeemed By Her Innocence / Sheikh's Royal Baby Revelation. Annie West

to get him out of her mind.

      Who are you trying to kid? she thought fleetingly. You saw him nearly naked and you’re as hooked as every other woman. The only difference is that you were afraid to step through the doors to see where it might lead. But you could have…

      No. This drive to get it right had nothing to do with any attraction to him as a man. She would never dream of having a business meeting in his suite. This was all about Ariana. It was so important to get it right!

      And she would. She’d tossed and turned for a couple of hours, got up at three and then started work. By six she had completely reworked the strategy. She’d created four personas of Ariana Bridal clients. She’d sketched out a cost-benefit analysis, which presupposed cash injection from House. And then she’d gone the extra mile and thrown in some figures based on the concession opportunities that she’d gain linked to the brand. It was all pure speculation and she could be way, way off, but it showed imagination. It showed that she’d done some homework at least.

      So she still hadn’t fixed the designs. But that part would come. With cash they could hire a designer again, someone who could really capture what it meant to be an Ariana bride…

      She practised her pitch out loud as she poured her fourth coffee and walked with it through to her bedroom to start getting ready. She would show him what she was capable of. She wasn’t some airhead underachiever; she was the heart and soul of this business, and with his cash injection Ariana could be a great little addition to his portfolio.

      But first she’d need to make a start on her appearance.

      The clock showed seven. Just under two hours should be fine. She’d have time for a quick face masque and then some brightening cream. Then she’d plaster on the concealer and some coral lipstick.

      She heard the door and tried to peer outside. There was a huge black car in the lane. Barbara, in one of her current husband’s limousines. She’d be ‘on her way to the gym’, which really meant she’d been scouring social media since she woke and couldn’t wait to get the details. She probably already knew about her breakfast meeting with Nikos.

      ‘Hello, Barbara,’ Jacquelyn said, as brightly as she could, as she pulled back the bolt on the door. ‘This is an early call today.’

      ‘Hello, Jacquelyn.’

       Nikos!

      He looked fresh and vital in a crisp white shirt and dark jeans, but with that solar intensity that made her take a step back. Her hands flew up to her hair in a defensive motion as she did a mental checklist. Three hours’ sleep, four hours’ staring at a screen, four coffees, no make-up, hair everywhere. She stared down—a skimpy camisole and pyjama shorts.

      ‘What are you doing here? How did you know where I lived?’

      ‘I looked it up,’ he said simply.

      ‘But I thought I was to come to Maybury Hall at nine. Isn’t that what you said? Oh, no, I’ve not messed this up completely, have I? I’ve been working on a presentation all morning. I’ve personalised it just for you. And House.’

      ‘No, it’s not nine,’ he said with a wry laugh. ‘It’s only seven. And I’ve come by here on my way to the airport. Something’s come up and I’ve got business to attend to I can’t put off.’

      He was solemn, sullen and serious. He was going and taking with him the air that she needed to breathe. She felt bereft—as if the ray of hope, the hot air balloon that she had finally found to take her over this rocky ground had just been punctured. All those hours she’d spent she’d completely convinced herself that there was no way forward now other than with concessions in the House stores.

      ‘We can reschedule?’

      Reschedule? She knew a brush-off when she heard one.

      ‘Oh. I see.’

      She knew by the slight surprise in his eyes that she hadn’t hidden her disappointment at all well. But this was awful. This was the pacifier that Martin Lopez had passed her. There was nothing else.

      ‘I’m sorry—I realise that you are a very busy man. I hope everything is OK.’

      ‘Everything will be OK, thanks. And I’m perfectly serious about another time. My assistant will be in touch in a couple of days to sort out a date…’

      She hesitated, the words of despair held back in her mouth. When? she wanted to whine. Because in six days we could be closed down…gone…forgotten.

      ‘Oh, that would be wonderful. If you have the time.’

      ‘Of course. It would be my pleasure.’

      He looked so sincere, and seemed to hesitate when she extended her hand, put on her smile.

      ‘Well, thank you anyway. It was lovely to meet you last night, and I’m very grateful for your time. I do realise how busy you are.’

      He looked away. ‘I’m a man of my word, Jacquelyn. I said I would listen to your pitch and I will.’

      She heard the words but her disappointment seemed to know no bounds. It was the light going out. It was exhaustion. It was being up all night and so full of adrenalin.

      ‘Please, don’t worry about it,’ she said, on a sigh.

      ‘Look, I’m heading to Greece. Why don’t you come along on the flight—make the pitch then? I often have meetings as I travel; if you’re OK with that, I’d be happy to accommodate it.’

      Travel with him on his plane? Alone? To talk about Ariana and House. That was intense. Insane. That was the offer of a lifetime.

      ‘Why yes, that would be super,’ she said, her mind running ahead, but then… ‘When do you fly?’

      ‘I’m on my way to the airport now.’

      ‘Now? As in right now?’

      She looked down again at her skimpy clothes and then up into his face, which seemed to have softened slightly.

      ‘Don’t worry. I won’t ask you to pitch in your pyjamas. The flight will take a few hours. I’m going to be busy for a while—you can finish your presentation, if that’s what you want to do. There should still be plenty of time for the pitch. If there’s not enough time, do it after lunch. You can come to the villa. Fly home later this evening. You’ll be back at work tomorrow.’

      He stepped out into the street and seemed to look over his shoulder.

      ‘OK? It’s the best I can do.’

      ‘I’ll take it,’ she said, knowing that this was in fact a better offer than she could ever have imagined. Travelling with Nikos to his villa in Greece. Lunch and then making her pitch. Surely this indicated that he was really interested in what she had to offer?

      ‘Could you give me ten minutes?’

      He checked his watch; he raised his eyebrows.

      ‘Five?’ she said.

      He nodded and stepped inside.

      ‘I’ll be right back.’

      With an energy she didn’t know she possessed Jacquelyn flew upstairs to the flat, ran a shower and was in and out of it in under a minute. She dragged a brush through her damp hair and tied it into a braid. She lathered cream on her face, hands and arms and threw her favourite cornflower-blue sundress over her head. With a minute to spare she applied deep pink lipstick, slid on gold jewellery and leather sandals.

      Never in her life had she gotten ready so fast. She looked flushed and desperate, but the light golden tan and blue of the dress picking out the blue of her eyes made the whole appearance somehow alive.

      Let that be a lesson, Jacquelyn Jones, she thought.

      She tossed a jersey dress into her bag and clean underwear, just in case, then