The front of the villa was bathed in floodlight and she did her best to keep her shoes out of sight as she stepped from the car and murmured a quiet ‘thank you’ to Luis. To her surprise, he gave her a big smile and allowed himself a personal comment.
‘You look great, ma’am, if you don’t mind me saying. Just great.’
She smiled back at him, genuinely grateful for the morale boost.
‘Thank you, Luis. I needed that.’
As she started to make her way up the broad stone stairway to the front door, an immaculate servant appeared, dressed in a smart grey waistcoat and freshly-ironed white shirt. He gave her a little bow.
‘Welcome, Miss Taylor. If you’d like to come with me, I’ll take you to Mr and Mrs Miros.’
Vaguely wondering how he had recognised her, Emma thanked him and followed as he led her into the marble-clad lobby and onwards into an enormous lounge. In spite of its size, the room was crowded, and within just the first few seconds she recognised no fewer than half a dozen A-list celebrities. The waiter led her to the centre of the room where she immediately saw JM’s head looming above the others around him. Alongside him, barely reaching his chest, was his wife. Unsurprisingly, stationed at his other side was none other than Dexter, the pilot fish. As Emma approached, the little man leant forward and drew JM’s attention to her arrival. Excusing himself from none other than the Governor of California, the great man held out a welcoming hand towards her.
‘Emma, good evening. Thanks for coming.’
His lips even curled into a pretty good approximation of a smile and she wondered if the glass of champagne in his hand had maybe helped to relax his face muscles.
‘Thank you so much for inviting me to your gorgeous home, sir.’ For a moment, she came close to curtseying, but managed to control the impulse.
‘Let me introduce you to my wife, Rachel. Rach, honey, this is Emma, She’s the young lady who’s gonna be accompanying Richard to Italy. She’s one of the brightest talents in the company.’
The elegant blonde lady produced a smile of her own and extended her hand, politely ignoring Emma’s blushes at her boss’s compliments. As they shook hands, she glanced back at him.
‘Jan, you didn’t tell me how pretty she is.’ Even through her embarrassment, Emma registered the first time she had ever heard her boss addressed by anything other than his initials. ‘It’s good to meet you, Emma.’
‘Thank you so much, Mrs Miros. You have a wonderful home.’
Mrs Miros directed another reproving look at her husband. ‘And you also didn’t tell me she’s English. I do so love an English accent.’
As she spoke, Emma studied her surreptitiously. She knew for a fact that she was nudging sixty, but there wasn’t a line on her face. If her hair was dyed, it had been done amazingly well. She was wearing a simply stunning light grey silk dress and she looked little older than Emma herself, who only the previous month had reached the ripe old age of thirty-five.
‘Rach, have you seen Richard?’ JM’s eyes were scouring the room from his high vantage point, but without success. ‘I want him to meet Emma.’
For a second the smile on Mrs Miros’s face slipped a notch, but just for a second. ‘I haven’t, Jan, I’m afraid. I suppose he must be outside in the garden.’ She glanced across at Emma. ‘He’s not a great one for crowds. I expect he’s gone into hiding.’
That sounded strange and unexpected and was followed by a momentary silence. Emma decided to help out. ‘I’m sure you have lots to do welcoming all your guests.’ She followed the direction of Mrs Miros’s eyes and spotted open French windows at the end of the room. ‘Why don’t I go and look for him? I can introduce myself.’ A thought occurred to her. ‘You’ll just have to tell me what he looks like.’
To her surprise, it was Dexter who responded. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll come with you.’ He shot a quick glance at JM, presumably to seek his permission, and then came over to Emma and pointed towards the French windows. ‘The garden’s this way.’
‘See you later, Emma.’ JM gave her a little wave. ‘And, Dexter, get the girl a drink. She looks like she could use one.’
As they walked away through the crowd, Dexter added under his breath. ‘I think we could both do with one.’ Although she knew he was originally from England, just like her, his accent now was completely neutral, which perfectly suited somebody whose job it was to melt chameleon-like into the landscape. In fact, she had no idea even of his age. He could have been forty or he could have been sixty and she vaguely wondered if he somehow magically morphed into whatever role he happened to be playing at the time. This was Hollywood, after all.
A passing waiter supplied two glasses of freshly poured ice-cold champagne and Emma took one willingly, pausing to clink it against Dexter’s before taking a sip. She didn’t know a lot about wine but she had no doubt this would be real French champagne, and the expensive stuff as well. She gave Dexter a smile.
‘Thanks a lot, Dexter.’
‘You’re welcome, Emma. Listen, there’s something you need to know about Richard.’
Emma was immediately intrigued, mainly by his somewhat hesitant tone, and the fact that his voice had dropped to almost a whisper. He led her across to the far corner of the room where they were able to take up station behind the massive white grand piano, out of earshot of everybody. After a surreptitious look around, he launched into his exposé.
‘Richard’s been in a spot of trouble. The thing is, the reason he’s only now graduated from college is that he disappeared off the grid for a few years in his early twenties and since then he’s been in rehab, on and off, for quite some time, trying to break a serious drug habit.’
Wow, Emma thought to herself. ‘And how old is he now?’
‘He’s twenty-seven. He’ll be twenty-eight any day now.’
‘And his drug problems, are they all behind him now?’
Dexter shrugged. ‘We can only hope. The fact that he’s managed to get himself together enough to finish his studies is a positive sign, but it’s still early days.’
As she listened, Emma was turning over in her head the ramifications of this disclosure. So she was going to be expected to act as nursemaid to a recovering drug addict. What was he going to be like and, more to the point, what would his father’s reaction be if Richard were to fall back into the habit while on Emma’s watch? Suddenly her forthcoming tour of Italy was looking less and less inviting. She toyed – only for a moment – with the idea of telling her boss she didn’t feel like taking the job after all, but she had no doubt what the result of that act of rebellion would be. Like it or not, she was going to be stuck with Richard or she would torpedo her whole career. She took a deep calming breath and followed it up with a very welcome mouthful of champagne. Beside her, she saw Dexter reach into his top pocket and pull out a card.
‘Listen, Emma, here’s what we’re going to do. This is my personal cell number. You can get me on that any time of the day or night.’ He caught her eye. ‘But I’d be grateful if you kept that number confidential just between the two of us. Okay?’
‘Okay, it’s a promise. Now, just so we’re clear, what you’re saying is that you want me to notify you, rather than JM, if anything happens in Italy involving his son, is that right?’