Cinderella's Secret Royal Fling. Jessica GilmoreЧитать онлайн книгу.
mouth thinned. His country, his castle, his responsibility. But he was supposed to be wooing Mike Clayton—and his daughter—not arguing with them, and in the end gracious capitulation was the only option.
‘I see. Are you sure, Laurent? Sure that this girl will make you happy?’
Laurent merely bowed in answer. ‘I know exactly what I’m doing, both for myself and for Armaria.’
For Laurent knew there was no real difference. He was the Archduke and with the title came responsibility for every man, woman and child, every meadow and mountain. He had never wasted any time wishing things were different; what was the point? His focus had to be on the future—and now his plans were finally coming to fruition. What was the point of might-have-beens and if-onlys? Bella Clayton was attractive, pleasant, well brought up and well connected—and the heir to a company with the capacity to change Armaria’s fortunes. If she was prepared to grant him those assets in return for a title then he was a fortunate man indeed.
* * *
Emilia Clayton leaned back in her chair and managed to summon up a professional almost-smile as she regarded her stepmother across the vintage desk.
‘You didn’t have to make an appointment to see me, Simone.’ Only both women knew that was a lie. Emilia did everything she could to avoid her father’s family. She was sure they were as relieved as she was when she excused herself from dinners and birthdays. Which was why Simone’s presence in her office was such a surprise, and not one of the pleasant variety. Just the sight of her stepmother made it hard for Emilia to be the quiet, controlled professional woman she had grown into, the memory of the rebellious teen with more anger than she could control shuddering through every nerve and vein. She shoved the memories back and maintained her smile.
Simone’s almost-smile was as faux genuine as Emilia’s own. ‘You didn’t reply to your father’s last texts. An official appointment seemed like the only way to actually guarantee getting hold of you.’
‘If I’d known it was so urgent I would have made the time. But I’ve been busy. As you can see.’ Emilia kept her tone light but something in her chest twisted as she spoke. Was her father ill? His texts had been so non-committal, the usual wishy-washy hopes that she was well and that he would see her at some unspecified point soon. The same messages he’d been sending her for the last decade—when he remembered. Nondescript, impersonal, a salve to his conscience.
Probably exactly what she deserved.
‘I’d heard you started your own business. This is all very quaint.’ Her stepmother looked around the spacious office space, with its soothing tones of white and grey and vibrant pictures and soft furnishings, with an air that strongly hinted that quaint was the most neutral word she could come up with. ‘I have to say, Emilia, I was very surprised to hear that you were living in Chelsea.’ The slight emphasis on ‘you’ conveyed myriad meanings, each one suggesting that Emilia was not the kind of person who belonged in the once bohemian, now rarefied borough.
‘No one was more surprised than me, but this is where our agency is based.’ The truth was, Chelsea was the last place Emilia would have chosen if she had had a choice. She hadn’t ventured to this part of West London since finally leaving home for good at just sixteen; it was far too close to her father’s Kensington apartment and there were unwelcome memories around every corner. But when her colleague and friend, Alexandra, had inherited an old townhouse in a beautiful tree-lined street in the heart of the old Chelsea village, it had been the catalyst for the two of them, along with their friends Amber and Harriet, to quit their day jobs and leave their rented rooms in far flung parts of London for the heart of West London.
‘Yes, the Happy Ever After Agency. How whimsical.’
‘We guarantee happy clients. Speaking of which, is this a business appointment, Simone, or did you just want to catch up? Only we are rather busy.’
Simone raised one eyebrow ever so slightly, her only comment on Emilia’s manners. Emilia had never been able to rile her stepmother, no matter how hard she tried. And she had tried. Truth was, Simone had never cared enough about her for her behaviour to really matter, each act of bad behaviour and rudeness an inconvenience rather than a shock. ‘Lady Jane Winspear was highly complimentary about the party you organised for her.’
Emilia kept the half-smile in place to hide her confusion. The party in question had been for a pair of particularly spoiled twins. In her opinion, Bella, her stepsister, was equally spoiled but somewhat past the age of unicorn rides and carousels. ‘That’s good to hear.’
‘So when I needed an event planner with immediate effect, I of course thought of you. My way of helping out your little enterprise. I know you’re too proud to accept help but I hope you wouldn’t be silly enough to turn down paying work.’
Emilia curled her hands into fists under the desk. She had made it clear years ago that she neither wanted or needed anything from her father or his new family. But, although the Happy Ever After Agency was doing well, turning down work would be a foolish move, especially from people as well connected as her father and stepmother. ‘You want to hire me?’
‘That’s why I am here. I would like you to organise your father’s sixtieth birthday ball.’
‘My father’s...’ Emilia swallowed. Of course she was aware that her father’s sixtieth was less than a month away. How could she not be when his fiftieth had been the occasion when she had packed her bags and walked out of his family and his life, vowing that this time it was for ever? She had planned to spend his sixtieth as she had every one of his birthdays since then: in denial.
‘As I said, we’re very busy and it’s very short notice. And I can’t afford any freebies; this is a new business.’ She stopped, slightly appalled by herself as the excuses spilled from her mouth. How did Simone always have this effect on her? It was as if she expected the worst from Emilia and Emilia simply had to oblige her. And the only loser was Emilia herself.
‘I’m aware of the short notice. The truth is your father was planning a quiet family birthday.’ A family birthday which obviously didn’t include Emilia. And that might be partly her choice but it still stung. ‘However, he’s been invited to be guest of honour at the first Armarian Midsummer Ball to be held in over twenty years.’
This was obviously very impressive news indeed and Emilia did her best to look awed whilst trying to work out where Armaria was. Was it the small country between France and Italy or the small country between Switzerland and Italy? Or was it in the Balkans? ‘Congratulations to Dad,’ she said and Simone threw her a hard glance.
‘Finally your father is getting the recognition he deserves. Of course he will want his friends, family and business partners to attend the ball, and so I offered to supply an event planner to make sure every detail is just how he likes it.’ Simone steepled her hands and looked at Emilia, her grey-eyed gaze as hard and piercing as it usually was where her stepdaughter was involved. ‘Will you be able to find the time to organise the event of the year or will I need to find another planner? One who isn’t too busy to accommodate me?’
Emilia’s mind whirled as thoughts of palaces and royalty and all the delicious publicity such a job would generate passed swiftly through her mind. How could she turn an opportunity like this down? ‘Why me?’ she asked bluntly.
Simone’s mouth thinned. ‘Believe me, Emilia, I thought long and hard about coming here today. I want this ball to be perfect and I haven’t forgotten your behaviour at your father’s fiftieth—and nor has he. But your reputation as an event planner is very good and I can’t believe you’d endanger it because of some long-held teen angst. And, whether you like it or not, you know your father better than any stranger ever could. If you put your mind to it then you can make sure this ball is as special as he is.’
Emilia’s fists tightened. ‘I see.’
‘There’s a lot riding on the evening. Not only is it your father’s birthday but he is considering moving his European headquarters and new factory to Armaria. We have got to know