Chapter One
âCongratulations, Natasha!â
Natasha raised her glass of sparkling water as her friends toasted her with far nicer bubbles and offered their congratulations on her upcoming promotion.
âSo, what does Reception Manager actually mean?â Harriet asked.
âFewer night shifts,â Natasha said.
âYou mean weâll actually get to properly see you on a Friday night?â Harriet teased because, having had dinner, instead of heading on to a club as the rest of her friends were, Natasha was about to head into work.
âYou shall,â Natasha nodded, while thinking that even if she wasnât working the last thing she fancied now was a night of clubbing.
âHave you heard about Dion?â Harriet asked and the table all fell a little silent but Natasha just laughed at her friendâs sudden disquiet.
âYes, Iâve heard that heâs just got engaged. Good luck to his fiancé, is all I can say, I just hope she doesnât have an ambitious bone in her body or sheâll soon find it quashed.â
Natasha meant every word. Despite being together for two years it had been a relief when sheâd ended it.
On the night heâd proposed. Yikes!
âShe looks like you, apparently.â Harriet said.
âAnd I looked like his previous girlfriend,â Natasha shrugged. âThin, blue eyes, blondeâ¦â
âTill you dyed your hair,â Harriet laughed. âRemember when you did that?â
Oh, Natasha remembered very well her brief foray into being a brunette, just to annoy Dion.
It had worked!
But sheâd gone back to blonde, which she loved and heâd soon cheered up and it had been then that heâd produced a ring.
âMen,â Natasha sighed, âare so predictable.â
âYouâre just jaded,â Harriet said.
âPossibly,â Natasha admitted and then glanced at the time on her phone. âWell, Iâd better make a move, Iâm going to take my jaded self off to work now.â
âStay a bit longer.â Harriet pushed but Natasha shook her head. It had been nice to catch up for dinner with her friends before she started her night shift as receptionist at the very exclusive Chatfield Hotel but Natasha was more than happy to have the excuse of work to slip off early.
âI really canât,â she said, âI start at ten but hopefully the next time we get together I should be able to stay longer.â She gave a tight smile. âIâm off to get chatted up by rich businessmen.â
âSave one for me,â Harriet laughed.
There was another round of congratulations and then Natasha slipped out of the restaurant and headed towards work, grateful for the taxi ride to Mayfair just to gather her thoughts.
***
Was she jaded? No.
The truth was, Natasha couldnât quite put her finger on what was wrong. Dissatisfied, discontent. Disâ¦.
Yes, she was glad to get away from her friends who had insisted that she join them tonight to celebrate her promotion, because somehow the congratulations didnât sit right with Natasha.
She liked her job. In fact she really, really liked it. She just didnât love it.
Natasha had the perfect personality to work in hospitality. She was outwardly calm, completely unflappable and had an eye for detail that could never be taught, which was why, at twenty five, sheâd been offered a generous increase in her salary and far more sociable hours and would now be in charge of reception.
It was a compliment indeed â the Chatsfield was a seriously top-end hotel, luxury was the name of the game there and to be offered such a frontline position after only a year should have had Natasha swinging around lampposts.
Was she mad to be considering handing in her notice?
Natasha pushed that thought aside as the taxi drew up outside the Chatsfield. Glamour started now as the taxi door was opened for her and Natasha thanked Ben, the doorman who was on tonight, and stepped into the decadent foyer. There was a group of couples heading out, the women dressed to the nines, the men in sharp suits, and everywhere Natasha looked there was beauty, glamour and excitement.
It truly was another world.
Natasha went through to the changing area to get ready for her ten âtil seven shift. All the staff were expected to look smart at all times and Natasha took that part of her role seriously, knowing how important those first impressions were when the guests checked in. Not only that, Gene Chatsfield, the owner of the Chatsfield hotel empire, was in residence in the presidential suite. His huge success was no accident and it was more likely than not that he would check on every staff member during his stay.