Eyes Wide Open (6 page)

“I…” Running a hand through her still-damp hair, she’d scrabbled around for a suitable response. The fact that she’d never even considered it before told her everything she needed to know. She’d never thought of Gary that way, and attraction didn’t just switch on and off like a light. If she liked him that way, she’d have been aware of it for a while. But how to tell him without coming across as a complete bitch?

Turned out she hadn’t needed to. “Your silence speaks volumes, Fi.”

She’d opened her mouth to say something, though she wasn’t quite sure what, but he’d held up a hand to stop her.

“Don’t. Don’t apologize or try and say something nice. I get it, and it’s all right, honestly. I pretty much knew that was going to be your response, anyway. I hadn’t gotten my hopes up or anything, I just figured that since I was feeling a little bit brave—damn you, lager—I’d put it out there, just in case. You never know unless you try, and all that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go to my room and feel sorry for myself for a bit.”

“Gary, I—”

“Seriously, it’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.” Unfolding his lanky frame from the sofa, he’d leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Congratulations on the job, gorgeous. You deserve it. It’ll be my turn next, just you wait and see.”

He’d loped off in the direction of his room, leaving Fiona feeling confusion, surprise and regret all in one go. She’d left him alone, though, and when he’d emerged later on, he’d clearly been playing the forget-we-ever-had-that-conversation game, and she’d been happy to go along with it. After all, there had been nothing she could say to help. He liked her, but she didn’t feel the same, and that wasn’t going to change.

She was glad to leave that incident behind her, both emotionally and physically. Although Gary hadn’t mentioned it since, it had, unfortunately, still had an impact on their friendship. They weren’t
quite
as comfortable with each other as they had been previously, and he’d toned down what she’d always thought of as harmless flirting. If the others had noticed, they’d kept quiet about it, and her incredible news had overshadowed everything else, in any case.

A flurry of activity had followed—responding to Sophia’s email when it arrived, then working from there to get everything organized. Handing in her notice, both at the pub and with her landlord, helping the others to put the word out that a room was coming up for rent, talking to those that were interested in taking her room to weed out the most undesirable folk.

After all of that, though, there had been some fun. She and Jenny had hit the shops in order to get her kitted out with some suitable clothes for her new job. A single interview suit wasn’t going to cut it. Thankfully Fiona’s parents had sent some money to help her out in that regard, and she’d managed to make the budget stretch to enough items that she could mix and match without looking as though she was wearing the same stuff again and again. That would last her until her first payday, and on her much-improved wage she could gradually start adding items to her wardrobe.

Her send-off from the flat had been emotional and bonkers at the same time. It had been sad because she was leaving, but also a celebration of her getting her foot on the first rung of the career ladder. The weird mix of emotions had resulted in an incredibly drunken evening with the four of them—plus Ben’s girlfriend Megan and Jenny’s on-again, off-again boyfriend José vowing to make sure they kept in touch, met up as often as possible and so on.

It’d be difficult, Fiona knew, because she’d no doubt be crazy busy with her new job and learning the ropes, but she felt it was important to keep her friends close. Maybe a little bit of time and space would help mend the rift between her and Gary too. She hoped so.

Her current excitement and anticipation wouldn’t allow her to concentrate on a film any more than a book, so she decided to go and explore the hotel a little. Rolling off the bed and grabbing the shoes she’d left by the door, she figured she’d find her way from her room to the PR & Marketing Suite. It’d be closed, of course, but at least she’d know where she was going in the morning. She didn’t want to be late on her very first day.

Chapter Seven

Four weeks later, and Fiona still occasionally got lost in the hotel, but otherwise things were going well. The job itself was incredible. She was constantly learning and improving, and she’d found that she had a genuine interest in—and liking for—PR. It helped, of course, that the very thing she was aiming to get publicity for was an amazing, unique hotel in a worldwide chain of amazing, unique hotels. It meant that press releases she wrote, pitches she made and phone calls she engaged in weren’t simply a mish-mash of carefully placed words and phrases designed to make the place sound great. It really
was
great and pretty much sold itself.

But they weren’t the only luxury hotel out there. Mayfair was full of them. London was full of them. The UK was full of them. So it was up to her to get creative, to find new ways of getting the press interested in writing about them or featuring them in some way, in order to catch the eyes of potential guests. Sophia helped a lot, as part of her training, but Fiona was eager to stand on her own two feet, to come up with something completely her own and really show Sophia and the rest of the team what she was made of.

This plan found her wandering the rooms, corridors and public areas of the hotel, a tablet in her hand and a thoughtful expression on her face. She had it in mind that she wanted to create a campaign that would entice more regular folk to come and stay at the Totally Five Star. Yes, they still had to make sure their standards were such that their usual clientele would continue to stay with them whenever they were in the area and recommend them to friends, colleagues and business associates. But these were people for whom money was no object. The biggest, plushest suites were full all the time—even during the week. What Fiona wanted to do was pull in people who’d stay in one of the regular rooms—though even those were a far cry from a Premier Inn or Travelodge—and still find it to be a completely amazing, luxurious experience.

The angle she needed was that these people would be treating themselves, splashing out. Special birthdays, anniversaries, engagements. Causes for celebration. Maybe even a staycation for people who either didn’t want to—or for some reason, couldn’t—leave the country. They could still have a fantastic time away, get pampered, be looked after, relax…just as they would if they’d zipped off somewhere abroad.

London, of course, had the added bonus of having an abundance of things to do. If guests wanted to stay inside the hotel and take advantage of the world-class facilities, so be it. But if they wanted to venture into the city, they would have endless choices of entertainment—there was certainly something for everyone.

Her brain whirring with the possibilities, she tapped away on the screen, making notes, and flipping to the camera function every now and again to take a snap of something that stood out to her or inspired her in some way. It was an insane jumble of photos and text she’d be downloading to her computer when she returned to her desk, but it was a jumble that would hopefully spark her creativity and allow her to come up with something awe-inspiring.

It was easy enough to put herself into the mindset of someone who wasn’t rich, but who would be staying at the Totally Five Star. So it was a simple task to look around her and imagine how people would want to spend their time. Sipping exotic cocktails at the bar, maybe. Indulging in afternoon tea. Having beauty treatments, massages, saunas. Swimming. Leafing through weighty, rare tomes in the library. Wandering in the private gardens. Admiring the stunning views from the rooftop garden, even.

Her own wandering had brought her closest to the bar restaurant just off the lobby, so she decided to go and tuck herself away in a corner there, do some discreet people watching, make notes and maybe pick up some more inspiration. She was glad she had the kind of boss who would let her go off and do this sort of thing, rather than being chained to a desk all the time and expected to churn out sparkling copy and snappy press releases. But then, she supposed that was the nature of being in a creative role. Not everything was as simple as putting fingers to a keyboard and hoping something awesome appeared on the screen.

Plus, if Sophia had thought she was the type of person who’d use this time to slack off, she wouldn’t have been offered the role in the first place. Yes, she was being given some freedom, but she was also expected to get the job done—and done to perfection. Naturally, perfection was Fiona’s aim, but if she couldn’t quite achieve that, she’d be more than happy with doing her very best.

She’d barely parked her bottom on a chair when one of the waiters whizzed over. She’d seen him around, but didn’t know him. The hotel was so big that she was sure it’d take a while before she’d met all the other members of staff, never mind memorized their names. Thankfully, classy, discreet name badges were part of the uniform for customer-facing personnel, so she took a peek.

“Hi, Jeremy,” she said, smiling at him.

He looked a little taken aback at being spoken to before he’d had a chance to greet her. “Oh, hello, madam.”

Still smiling, she waved a hand dismissively. “I work here, Jeremy. You don’t need to call me madam.” She indicated the tablet. “I’m the new PR assistant. I’ve been having a good explore of the place—getting lost is becoming less frequent, luckily—and thought I’d tuck myself away here and do some people watching to get some inspiration for a campaign.”

“Oh, I see,” he replied, grinning. “You don’t, uh, have a name badge.”

Heat came to her cheeks as she realized her mistake. “I’m so sorry. I’m Fiona.” She held her hand out, and they shook. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve seen you around, but there are just so many people working here. I can’t keep track of everyone.”

“Yeah, I get it. I was the same when I first started. Fortunately, staff turnover here is really low, so you’ll get there in the end. It’s nice to meet you too, by the way. Can I get you anything?”

“Uh, yeah. That would be great. If I look like a regular customer, people might not notice me people watching. Can I have some fruit juice, please? I don’t mind what flavor.”

“Ice?”

“No thanks.”

With a nod, Jeremy zoomed off to get her drink. Fiona gave a contented sigh as she thought about the perks of her job. Although what she ate and drank wasn’t free, exactly—an amount was taken from her salary for her board and lodgings—it was heavily subsidized. She was paying less ‘rent’ now than she’d been in the flat, and needless to say, her living standards had increased. After all, she hadn’t had unlimited use of two swimming pools, spa facilities, saunas, steam rooms, gym equipment… The list went on. She wasn’t sure she’d ever feel the need to have someone else shine her shoes—however, it was fun to know that the option was there.

The best part was that all the facilities were open twenty-four hours, so if she didn’t finish working until nine o’clock at night—though her contracted hours were nine to four-thirty, sometimes she had to work extra time to get projects finished or take care of urgent requests—she could still go and have twenty minutes in the sauna and a nice, relaxing swim or perhaps chill out in the Jacuzzi for a while.

It was something it had taken her a while to work up to, though. Despite knowing it was allowed, Fiona felt a bit like an impostor using facilities that were for paying guests—paying guests that were often famous or very important. Sometimes both. Not that those people knew that she
wasn’t
important, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of place.

She was slowly growing used to mingling, for want of a better word, with the guests while using the various facilities, and it was also how she’d been slowly meeting and getting to know other members of staff. Not the sort of person to go and knock on her neighbor’s door and say hello, Fiona had waited until she’d more organically bumped into someone before introducing herself. And this had happened a few times in the sauna, pool area and gym. Made sense, really. Why would anyone go somewhere else, pay a monthly subscription to a gym, when there was an absolutely top notch one available to use at any time, absolutely free?

Jeremy returned shortly with her drink, placing it beside her with a discreet wink before moving off to look after the other patrons. It really was an ideal existence, Fiona decided. She was enjoying a life that was somewhere in between being an ordinary girl from Birmingham and being rich and famous. Many of the perks, she felt, and none of the downfalls. Nobody recognized her. Nobody harassed her, no requests for selfies or autographs.

Not that anything of that kind took place on the premises, anyway, certainly not that she’d seen, or heard about. Anyone that even gave off the remotest hint of being paparazzi wouldn’t even make it over the threshold, and genuine guests had better manners than to stare at others or to interrupt them while they were relaxing or having dinner—even if it happened to be their favorite footballer, actor, singer, royal or whatever.

Just about to chastise herself for allowing her thoughts to meander so, she suddenly realized she was on to something. Closing her eyes and grabbing hard onto the trail of the train of thought she’d just been pursuing, she tugged it back into the forefront of her mind.

Yes
! She opened her eyes. That was it. That was her angle. The wording would need work, serious refinement, but the basic idea was there.
Treat yourself to a once-in-a-lifetime stay in the ultimate luxury hotel. Enjoy rooms, spaces and facilities fit for royalty
.

Typing the snippet into the tablet’s note-taking app before she forgot it, she grinned. It was good—really good. Once polished up, expanded on and worked into press releases, sound bites, competition copy and advertorial copy, she was sure it would result in lots of coverage, not to mention bring in plenty of guests. The concept might even be used in TV, magazine and radio advertising. Now that would be seriously cool—a way for her to be famous, without being famous—her idea, her baby, up in lights!