Love Me Or Leave Me by Claudia Carroll Page A

pointed out, to have a barman who looks like something out of a Gillette ad in any hotel. Particularly one where a whole lot of soon-to-be single women will be floating about.
    ‘Good to meet you,’ Rob says, ‘you certainly look busy.’
    ‘Ah sure, all in a day’s work, boy. You know yourself.’
    Rob just nods and immediately strides past a fabulously relaxed seating area and throws open double doors that lead to a terrace outside with steps leading down to the garden below. It’s my favourite part of the whole building actually, where I figure either a) smokers can knock themselves out or b) our soon-to-be-divorced guests can take a little breather to chill out in the enclosed, landscaped garden, far away from all talk about lawyers and problems and financial settlements.
    At least, that’s the plan . Once the garden is finished, that is. But right now, tiny and all as it is, it’s more of a mud bath than actual garden and the landscapers are still working away on it, looking scarily like months and not weeks away from completion.
    At that thought, my anxiety levels shoot upwards just as the landscaper calls cheekily up at me, as we step outside and look down at all the work that’s going on. ‘Howaya Chloe!’ he waves. ‘Any chance of a cuppa tea there, love?’
    ‘Be with you shortly, Jack!’ I smile back, then turn to where Rob is right behind me, arms folded, quick, grey eyes taking in absolutely everything. ‘Well, you’ve got to look after your staff, don’t you?’ I shrug, trying to laugh it off.
    ‘Certainly do,’ he nods, eyes busily scanning every last little thing.
    ‘Now okay, I know it’s all looking ages away from being ready in time, but trust me, it will be. Jack’s got it all in hand,’ I say, trying to sound confident about it. ‘Don’t you, Jack?’ I call down to him.
    ‘Givvus a chance, will you love? Can’t go any faster!’ he yells cheerfully back. ‘And where’s me tea?’
    ‘You know, I really think it’ll be stunning out here,’ I go on, talking to Rob’s back now as he paces up and down the smoking terrace, as though he’s testing it for length. ‘I mean, we’re in the dead centre of the city right now, and just listen, you can hardly even hear the traffic going by, can you? It’ll be a lovely oasis of peace and tranquillity, wait and see. A place where …’
    ‘Chloe,’ he says. ‘It’s okay. I get it. Yes, it’s gonna work.’
    ‘Yes, but don’t you want me to tell you how it’s going to look when it’s finished?’
    ‘You’re doing it again.’
    He’s stopped pacing now and is looking at me intently.
    ‘Doing what?’
    ‘Sounding like I’m only here to do a spot check so I can catch you all out and start firing people. Just because there’s a bit of mud in the back garden and a few wires loose?’
    ‘Emm … well …’
    ‘You have to remember; I’ve been in this business a long time. I’ve seen countless hotels in the weeks before opening, in a far worse state, believe me. Sometime when I’m not rushing off, remind me to tell you the story of the Ferndale Beach Hotel in Dubai. It’s the whole reason my hair’s as grey as it is, you know.’
    I smile at this and start to relax a little.
    ‘And every hotel without exception was subsequently perfect when they needed to be, just as here will too. So don’t worry. Because I’m certainly not.’
    ‘Okay, then. If you say so.’
    Am I wrong, or could there possibly have been a grain of praise buried in there? I think there might have been, but it’s hard to tell with this guy. And if he only knew what I was thinking right now.
    There you are looking at me now, judging me, assessing me, but do you even realize how badly I want this to be a success too? This job is the thing that picked me up off the floor, the whole reason why I didn’t have to lie low in London any more. Believe me no one, not even you, Rob McFayden, wants this to work more than I do.
    ‘Come on then,’ he says