Christmas In The Boss's Castle. Scarlet Wilson

words. She could almost see them forming on his lips. She held her breath. Then, just when he looked as if he might answer, he leaned forward and put his head in his hands.

      Now she definitely couldn’t breathe. She pressed her lips together to stop herself from filling the silence.

      When Finlay looked up again, it wasn’t the polished businessman she’d been sitting opposite for the last twenty minutes. This was Finlay, the guy on the roof who’d lost his wife and seemed to lose himself in the process. What little oxygen supplies she had left sucked themselves out into the atmosphere in a sharp burst at the unhidden pain in his eyes.

      ‘It’s time.’ His voice cracked a little and his shoulders sagged as if the weight that had been pressing him down had just done its last, awful deed.

      She couldn’t help herself. She didn’t care about appropriateness. She didn’t care about talk. Grace had always had a big heart. She always acted on instinct. She slid her hand across the glass-topped table and put it over his.

      It didn’t matter that the word no had been forming on her lips. It didn’t matter that she felt completely out of her depth and had no qualifications for the position he wanted to give her. She squeezed his hand and looked him straight in the eye, praying that her tears wouldn’t pool again.

      He gave himself a shake and straightened up. ‘And it’s a business decision.’ He pulled his hand back.

      She gave him a cautious smile. ‘If you’re sure—and it’s a business decision,’ she threw in, even though she didn’t believe it, ‘the answer is yes.’

      He leaned back against the chair, his shoulders straightening a little.

      ‘I have to warn you,’ she continued, ‘that the picture you see in your head might not match the picture I have in mine.’

      She glanced across the room and gave him a bigger smile. ‘I can absolutely promise you that no matter how sleek, no matter how modern you think they are—there will be no black Christmas trees in The Armstrong hotel.’

      The shadows fell a little from his eyes. ‘There won’t?’

      There was the hint of a teasing tone in his voice. As if he was trying his best to push himself back from the place he’d found himself in.

      ‘My Christmas could never have black trees. I’ll do my best to keep things in the style you like. But think of Christmas as a colour burst. A rainbow shower.’ She held up one hand as she tried to imagine what she could do. ‘A little sparkle on a gloomy day.’

      Finlay nodded in agreement. ‘I’ll get you a credit card. Is there anything else you need?’

      She licked her lips. Her throat was feeling dry. What had she just got herself into?

      Her brain started to whizz. ‘Use of a phone. And a computer. A space in one of the offices if you can.’

      Finlay stood up. ‘I can do that.’

      It seemed the businessman persona had slotted back into place. Then, there was a tiny flicker of something behind his eyes.

      He smiled and held out his hand towards her.

      She stood up nervously and shook his hand.

      ‘Grace Ellis, welcome to The Armstrong Hotel.’