from turning to Laurent. ‘Who is that? Talking to Emilia?’
‘Who? Oh, that’s Alex—Alexandra Davenport. She co-owns a party planning agency with Emilia and two other women. She arrived yesterday, I think, to oversee things tonight so Emilia could attend the ball. Why?’ Laurent’s smile turned sly. ‘Would you like an introduction to her?’
‘No, thanks. Just curious.’
But Finn’s mind was working furiously. Alexandra was Lola’s middle name, wasn’t it? Surely it was a coincidence—a similarity of features, a shared name, that was all. But as he gazed across at the woman he couldn’t help feeling that there were no such things as coincidences and now, just as his life was exactly where he wanted it to be, Lola Beaumont had returned to disrupt it all over again.
The question was, what was he going to do about it?
WITH A HERCULEAN effort, Alexandra Davenport managed to wait until she had passed through Passport Control before she turned on her phone. Pulling her small case behind her, she headed towards Customs and the exit, impatient as her phone whirred through its settings and began to process all communications from the last eight hours.
All around her people staggered past, eyes red, clothes wrinkled from the overnight flight. Alex, on the other hand, felt surprisingly well-rested. Thank goodness she’d packed a washcloth and a clean top in her overnight bag, and had freshened up just before the fasten seat belts sign came on. She was refreshed, she had slept, and she was ready for anything.
She glanced at her phone, not surprised to see every notification symbol jostling for space at the top. There was always a crisis somewhere. Which for her was a good thing; promotional PR paid the bills, but it was managing the unexpected and spinning disaster into gold where she excelled.
She dialled up voicemail and waited for the first message to come through.
‘Alex? It’s me.’
Alex smiled as she heard the voice of Amber, her colleague and, more importantly, her friend. With just three words she was home. Home. A place she had stopped believing existed. After all, hadn’t she trained herself not to rely on people or places?
‘Hope you get this in time. What am I saying? Of course you will. There’s no way you don’t have a fully charged phone ready to switch on the second you land! So, we’ve had a last-minute booking. It’s a residential stay and the client is very much demanding that you get there asap. So you need to head straight there. I’ve arranged for a car to pick you up and take you. Give me a call when you’re on the way and I can go through everything with you. Don’t worry, I packed up some clothes for you and they’ve been collected. Well done again on New York. You rocked it. Can’t believe we’re properly international! Talk soon!’
The voicemail ended and Alex frowned as she saved it. She hadn’t been expecting to head straight out again—after a week away she was more than ready to return to the Chelsea townhouse she had inherited the year before and turned into both a home and the business premises for her three closest—and only—friends. Together they had set up the Happy Ever After Agency, offering regular, one-off and consultancy support in everything from admin to events, PR to bespoke jobs.
Only eight months after opening they already had a strong reputation, backed up by glowing testimonials from previous clients. Glowing testimonials thanks to their ability to react quickly. Exactly as she needed to do right now, she reminded herself. Her feelings didn’t matter. The client always came first.
Of course it didn’t hurt their reputation that one of their previous clients, Prince Laurent, Archduke of Armaria, was currently courting Emilia, their events specialist, whilst tech billionaire Deangelo Santos was engaged to Harriet, his former PA and their head of admin.
Alex suppressed a sigh. They’d been open less than a year and already it was all change. Next year Harriet would marry Deangelo and officially move out of the townhouse, and they all knew Laurent would propose to Emilia any day now.
Harriet intended to carry on working once she was married but, although Emilia would remain a business partner, there was no way she would be able to take on any jobs once she became Archduchess. Alex was absolutely delighted for her friends, but she couldn’t help wishing they’d had more time together first. Time to really build the agency.
She swallowed, not wanting to admit even to herself that the ache she felt deep inside wasn’t just down to the changes in the business. She’d been so happy these last few months, living and working with her friends. She’d trained herself to enjoy her own company, but the house felt alive with the four of them in it. It was welcoming. Would it seem empty when there were just two?
Pushing the dark thoughts away, Alex walked swiftly through Customs, checking her emails as she did so and flicking through her clients’ social media feeds to make sure there was nothing requiring immediate attention.
She was just aware enough of her surroundings to make sure she didn’t crash into anyone, otherwise she zoned out the noise and hubbub as she exited into the Arrivals Hall. She stopped for a moment, scanning the waiting crowds for a sign with her name on it, but before she could spot it her attention was snagged by a teenage girl running past her to launch herself into the arms of a middle-aged couple, whose wide smiles and bright eyes showed how very glad they were to see her.
No one had ever waited for Alex unless they’d been paid to be there, like the driver today. She watched as the couple enfolded the girl in their arms, unable to help noticing other reunions, some loud, some tearful, and one so passionate she felt like a voyeur.
She straightened. Enough of this nonsense. She had just had a very successful few days, turning the agency into an international proposition, and she was heading straight into another job. Success, security, everything she was working towards was within reach. That was where she needed to focus.
With a jolt of relief, she spotted the sign with her name on it and headed towards it. The sooner she was out of the airport the better.
Ten minutes later Alex found herself ensconced in the back of a comfortable saloon car, her laptop purring to life beside her, a notebook on the folded-out tray table, a chilled bottle of water and a pot of fruit beside it. She read through her emails again quickly, but there was nothing from Amber to indicate where she was going and what she would be doing once she was there.
The driver had volunteered the information that the journey would take around an hour and a half, depending on traffic, but hadn’t mentioned the destination. No matter. Amber would fill her in.
Despite the earliness of the hour the roads were busy and the car crawled along. Looking out of the darkened windows into the pre-dawn winter gloom, Alex noted how low and heavy the skies were. The temperature had dropped as well, now closer to the New York chill she’d just left than the autumnal mildness she’d flown away from just a week ago.
It was easy to believe that Christmas was less than three weeks away and winter was well and truly settling in.
A sign caught her eye and she winced at the realisation that they were heading out to the M40. Hopefully they’d turn off soon. She normally avoided the area around the Chilterns. It was far too full of memories.
She checked her phone and decided that it was late enough to call Amber. Barely had she pressed the call button when her friend answered, sounding, as always, far too chipper for first thing in the morning.
‘Hi, Alex! You got my message?’
‘I did. Which is why I am in the back of a car heading out of London and not into it. Who’s the client and what’s so urgent that I’m needed on site straight away? A threatened exposé? PR disaster?’ Her mind whirled. The thornier the problem the more she loved it.
‘Nothing so exciting. I’m sorry. But hopefully you’ll still enjoy the brief. Have you heard of Hawk?’