CHAPTER 14
George
What am I doing? Rather than distancing myself from her, like I know I should, I’ve literally moved her into my suite? Good work, George.
Fucking Cece, putting her in that dump.
We navigated the arrival an hour or so ago, with little awkwardness thankfully; she insisted on taking the smaller bedroom and I reluctantly agreed as it came with its own bathroom, whereas mine was further into the suite, off the main space.
She excused herself to freshen up and told me to let her know if she could help with anything at all.
‘That’s why she’s here, George. To work,’ I remind myself.
I’m restless and fidgeting. I should be prepping for my first practice this afternoon, but I’m all over the place.
I pad over to her room, my feet moving of their own accord. I go to knock, but I can hear her inside faintly on the phone. I shouldn’t listen but I hear my name.
‘Rosa, I’m freaking out. George has moved me into his room.
He obviously felt sorry for me . . . No, I completely embarrassed myself .
. . I can’t go and face him after almost crying over a stupid apartment .
. . No, you perv, of course that’s not why .
. . Rosa, how many times? He isn’t interested in me like that .
. . Trust me, I know! . . . I just do. I’m not his type. ’
I frown. Doesn’t she know how hot she is? An image of her pushed naked against the shower wall flashes into my mind and I bite down on a groan, reaching down to readjust my pants. I’m just like a fucking teenage boy.
She’s still on the phone.
‘Cece is an absolute bell-end, correct.’ She laughs at something her friend says. ‘Eurgh, I wish you were here. How’s Cassian doing? Does he miss me? . . . Good, I miss him too.’ She sighs, ‘Oh, he has the most gorgeous face.’
Cassian? Jealousy spikes through me. Does she have a boyfriend?
‘I know . . . I will make the most of it . . . but it’s important this is successful. Cece just emailed asking for an update already! I haven’t worked my way up for years for my career to be derailed by an arrogant spoilt brat . . . Not again.’
Again?
She continues. ‘Rosa, I’m not interested in him like that . . . yes really.’
I’m such an idiot. She’s been assigned to me for work. Work, George.
I go to turn away but can’t get her words out of my head. I’m not spoilt or a brat. Arrogant, maybe. I’m an athlete, we’re all a little arrogant. I think of our interactions so far and grimace. I haven’t made it easy for her, I suppose.
I knock and hear her startle, saying goodbye in hushed tones before opening the door.
‘Hello, George.’ She looks up at me, eyes brighter than before but still tentative. ‘Is everything OK?’
Why did I knock? My mind goes blank and we stand in silence.
‘Did you need me to help with anything?’ she ventures. ‘Apologies for not checking, I was just settling in.’
‘No, don’t apologize.’ I grasp at anything. ‘I have some time now. I thought we could sit and do the welcome thing you texted about . . .’ I trail off.
‘Your welcome call? Of course.’ She turns back into her room. ‘Give me two minutes and I’ll find my laptop.’
I grab some bottled water for us both from the mini bar, sitting down in the main room that overlooks the Place Vend?me. It’s a beautiful square. My favourite spot in Paris and part of the reason I like to stay here every year, not that I tell anyone that.
Leo comes out of her room in the same professional attire from the office, shoes on and everything.
‘Leo, please do make yourself at home. I want you to think of this as your base for the next two weeks. Order room service, have a massage, enjoy.’
My phone buzzes. It’s Gordon asking when I’m coming downstairs to go over the media plan for the week. I shoot a quick reply, ‘busy, later’, and turn back to Leo.
She opens her laptop, ignoring my pleas to be more comfortable. ‘Shall I start?’
We go through a series of admin questions, confirming passport details, cards, contact info, it’s very thorough. She could have me cloned, but assures me it’s all secure on their internal system.
‘So, George, on to your preferences for requests, it would be great to get to know you more, your likes and dislikes for example, what do you enjoy, socially?’
‘Socially?’ What do I do socially? ‘I don’t really do much. I train, play tennis, sleep. I haven’t been out much in the past year.’ She raises an eyebrow. ‘Well, the occasional night out, but I’m over all that.’ I didn’t even enjoy it at the time.
‘Do you like art? Cars? Food?’
‘Art, no. I just don’t see the point in a squiggle on a page.’ Olivia always insisted we attend gallery openings, Art Basel, Frieze parties, all full of pretension and plastic faces. Nobody even looked at the ‘art’.
‘So no modern art, noted. Have you been to any of the galleries here?’ she questions.
‘Art doesn’t have to be stuffy. The Rodin Museum is one of my favourites; it’s a beautiful house with a wonderful private garden, tucked away near Invalides.
His sculptures are magnificent . . .’ She stops herself and looks away, embarrassed. ‘But anyway . . .’
‘No, that sounds good. I’d like to go.’ She looks back with a small shy smile and I feel a flutter in my stomach. Clearing my throat, I ask, ‘How does this work? Can Gordon send my schedule and you fit things around it?’
‘Absolutely!’ She looks animated now. It makes me want to give her more to smile about. I carry on.
‘So other things. Cars. Yes, of course. But I’m not driving here,’ I shudder and she laughs. It’s sweet, melodic, at odds with her fiery nature.
‘I like food. But I really don’t want any flashy restaurants.
You know the kind? Mayfair. Shiny. Nobody eats, they just judge?
’ She nods, biting back a smile. ‘I’d rather something more low-key.
Obviously, my nutrition plan is pretty strict but still .
. .’ I think of the last place I really enjoyed going to.
‘Actually, my friend Harry has a new cafe and bar on the esta—’ I stop myself, not wanting to sound like a pompous twat.
‘Near where I’m living at the moment. You might know it if you’re local too? Grange Home Farm?’
She looks surprised. ‘I love it there. It’s my favourite place actually.’ She looks down, brushing her hands down her thighs, and I try to avoid staring at her legs. ‘Harry’s great. I didn’t know he was a friend of yours?’ I nod. ‘He always lets Cassian in, even if he’s being a nuisance.’
‘Cassian?’ Who is this guy?
‘My friend Rosa’s golden retriever, Cassian. He’s so adorable, I feel like I’m his aunt, I love him so much.’
Ah, puppy. Not boyfriend.
‘Do you have any photos? I love dogs, but I travel too much. It wouldn’t be fair.’
She pulls up a photo of Cassian on her phone; he’s on his back, paws in the air and a big silly grin on his face, tongue sticking out.
He’s great. I lean over to see properly and catch the same scent as the other morning.
I try not to breathe in too deeply, but it’s hard.
She’s driving me crazy already and she doesn’t even know.
I can’t help myself and I turn closer to speak. My voice is deep, gravelly.
‘What do you enjoy, Leo?’
She turns, our faces inches apart, and she flushes a light pink. I like that she can’t hide any emotion; it’s refreshing.
Her vivid green eyes roam my face slowly, before she pulls back, clearing her throat.
‘Tennis actually. I really love it. That and martinis. Killer combo.’ She tries to lighten the tension.
I smile, happy to be able to give her something.
‘I didn’t know if you would want to, but just in case, I’ve already asked the team to arrange tickets for you each day if you want to see the tournament; they’ll be at the players’ desk at Roland-Garros under your name.’
Her eyes widen in surprise. ‘Thank you, George, that’s very generous. I’d love that.’ She looks down shyly. ‘I really am a big fan.’
‘Of me?’ I tease.
‘Of tennis! I try to play three or four times a week, depending on work.’
‘We should play,’ I blurt out without thinking.
She laughs. ‘I’m not sure you’d have much fun. I’m not that good.’
I disagree strongly. My phone buzzes again and I glance down as before. It’s Gordon again, telling me to hurry up. I can’t remember the last time I had a conversation this long, and this enjoyable, with anyone other than Jack.
I show Leo his text and start to stand, reluctant to leave. ‘Sorry to cut this short, duty calls.’
‘George, this has all been brilliant. I have a good picture now of what you might enjoy. I’ll start putting together a plan that will help you relax in between matches, allow you to switch off slightly and start each day feeling refreshed and fulfilled. Does that sound OK?’
She actually looks happy. It makes me feel warm inside, unlike anything I’ve felt in a long time.
‘Yeah, it does. Thank you.’ I lean over to say goodbye, using the excuse to touch my lips to her cheek, brushing gently. Although it’s the smallest touch, it makes me feel electric. I desperately want to kiss her.
Mmm. This could be a problem.