Xavier and Lizbet emerge and head out the back door to the pools. After that, Alessandra supposes, it will be down to the wellness center, over to the Blue Bar, then up to the owner’s suite.
She sees Zeke wheeling in the cart with Xavier’s luggage—a garment bag, a suitcase, a weekender duffel—and she nearly offers to take it up, but how weird （and obvious） would that be? She’ll have to think of another reason to visit Xavier’s suite. She needs to have a conversation with him one-on-one. That’s all it will take, Alessandra thinks. She’ll dip her chin and gaze up at him. She’ll touch his wrist between the cuff of his shirt and his watch. That’s all it ever takes.
When Lizbet returns to the desk, she’s flushed and panting as if she’s just completed an obstacle course. “He’s settled in,” she says. “He loved everything. He was so complimentary and he noticed every detail. I’m not sure what I was worried about. This place is pretty perfect.” Alessandra resists the urge to roll her eyes.
Edie says, “I feel like I just met royalty. He’s so…elegant.”
Elegant is the right word, Alessandra thinks. She should have been pursuing elegance—manners, breeding, experience, generosity—all along but she’d been distracted by looks and surface charm and that’s why she hasn’t landed in the right situation. Now that Alessandra has met Xavier Darling in person, she can see their future together more clearly. It will be the jet and the chauffeured Bentley, of course, but also private islands, hunting lodges in the wilds of Scotland, quiet evenings at home in Belgravia, Xavier smoking a pipe and checking the markets, Alessandra curled up on the sofa by the fire, reading a leather-bound edition of Dante. She’ll lose her eye crystals and the white eyeliner; she’ll start wearing her hair in a chignon. She’ll call him X. He’ll go from infatuated to besotted to deeply in love. He’ll be captivated by Alessandra’s intelligence, her ease with languages, her business savvy. He’ll insist that she accompany him to Davos, where she’ll draw the attention of the other moguls, and this sense of competition for her attention will prompt Xavier to propose. Or if marriage frightens him, which is what Alessandra suspects, he’ll appease her by changing his will—and by buying her an extraordinary diamond that proves his commitment without requiring a church ceremony.
All she has to do is get up to his room.
Lizbet gasps. “I forgot to give him a copy of the Blue Book!”
Well, isn’t that like the sky opening up and raining gold coins? Alessandra snaps up a copy of the Blue Book. “I’ll take this up to him right now,” she says. “I have to drop off tickets for the drive-in to suite three fifteen anyway.” Alessandra waves the envelope that does, in fact, contain four drive-in movie tickets for the Hearn family in suite 315. Alessandra has been holding on to them all day, just in case.
An unfamiliar feeling comes over Alessandra as she approaches the door of the owner’s suite. She has butterflies.
She is always the pursued, never the pursuer.
After she knocks, she quickly tousles her hair and arranges her face into an open, innocent smile. Xavier Darling opens the door. He has shed his jacket but not （thankfully） his shoes, and he’s holding a glass of rosé. （Alessandra knows they stocked his minibar with Domaines Ott at his request.）
He gives her a look of vague recognition, like he’s seen her somewhere before, but where…
“Mr. Darling, sorry to interrupt. I’m Alessandra Powell, the front-desk manager?” You sent me a personal e-mail telling me how much you were looking forward to meeting me? She then realizes, with no small amount of horror, that Xavier must have sent those e-mails to everyone. Or, even worse, his secretary sent them on his behalf!
“Yes?” he says crisply, maybe even a bit impatiently.
Alessandra clears her throat. She has been here ten seconds and she’s already blowing it. “I wanted to hand-deliver the Blue Book, sir. It’s our recommendation guide to the island—museums, beaches, restaurants, and the like. I say our, but this is Lizbet’s brainchild. She wrote it, and our guests have raved about it. It’s something that sets us apart from the island’s other luxury hotels.” Alessandra tries to radiate virtue: See how I prop other women up and polish their crowns?
“She’s mentioned it, yes. Thank you.” Xavier reaches for the book, and Alessandra instinctively holds on tight. Come to me! she thinks. “If you’d like me to set up any dinner reservations or arrange for any excursions, please let me know. I’m all yours.” Ever so reluctantly, she allows him to tug the book from her. Xavier riffles through the pages. “I’ll take a look when I have a moment.”