Page 15 of Sparring Partners
Luca said nothing, only casting glances towards Adrian, who did little other than grunt into the phone.
“Okay, that’s great. I’ll be along very soon… No, I’m camped out in Harbour Coffee… I know you did, but… Thank you, thank you so much.” Adrian clattered his phone on the table, the rigidity leaving his body and making him flop back into his seat as though the wires holding him up had been cut. “Thank god,” he groaned, as he ploughed his fingers through his hair. Turning his attention to Luca, he smiled.
It took everything Luca had not to gasp, as Adrian’s wide bright smile bathed him in warm sunshine. Adrian’s eyes shone, the scowl that always seemed to hover over his features was nowhere to be seen. A short phone call was all it had taken to transform him. The man looked carefree, younger even, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and Luca couldn’t help but smile back.
“Good news, I take it?”
Adrian nodded, once more running his fingers through his hair, leaving little dark peaks behind.
“Yeah. An infection, which should respond well to a course of medication. I was thinking… something else. Because he’s old, I guess.” He rubbed at his eyes, and when his hands fell away, the whites held more than a tinge of red. “I was up half the night worried sick.” He offered a crooked smile, disarming yet embarrassed, as though aware he’d exposed a part of himself he kept hidden. The urge to lean forward and take Adrian’s strong looking hands and squeeze them tight made Luca’s fingers itch; he gripped his mug harder.
Adrian gulped back the rest of his drink, and stood. “I’m going to pick him up and get home.” He hesitated for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was gruff yet quiet. “Thanks for the company, I appreciate it. I needed it more than I realised.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad I was of some help. You’re right about Spud, he’s a lovely dog. And I know he’ll be fine.”
Adrian quickly gathered his papers together, all but throwing them into a small backpack before he stuffed his phone into one of the hip pockets on his jeans. Instead of rushing out, he lingered as he stared down at Luca, a small frown puckering his brow. It wasn’t the grouchiness Luca had come to recognise, but more as though Adrian was working through something, a question he wasn’t sure how to ask. The frown disappeared, and he slung the backpack over one shoulder.
“Thanks. See you around.”
“Yes. Let me know how Spud gets on.”
Adrian’s mouth twitched a quick smile, before he turned and disappeared.
See you around…A tingle ran the length of Luca’s spine. Three little words that had sounded more like a question than a statement. Sipping his drink, Luca stared towards the door, long after the man had gone.
CHAPTEREIGHT
Luca stretched out his cramped limbs. Seven-thirty in the morning, and he’d already been at his desk for a couple of hours. Making himself a cup of Earl Grey, he closed his eyes as he inhaled and sipped the fragrant brew, his tired mind drifting to where it had been going all too frequently over the last few days.
He clattered the cup down. Why was he thinking about Adrian Hardy again? Prickly as a cactus, overly blunt, he was a man who made walking on egg shells feel like a stroll in the park. Yet, the man had shown another side of himself, in the café. Something less brittle, less hard, his worry over his old dog Spud revealing a surprising depth of feeling beneath his iron exterior.
Luca looked at his watch, then adjusted the cuffs on his pristine white shirt, peeking out beneath his suit jacket. It was time he walked the hotel, to check to see if all was well. As it would be.
Before leaving his office, he inspected his appearance in the mirror. The shadows beneath his eyes looked like storm clouds and he frowned. No wonder, when he’d been sleeping so fitfully. He’d never needed much sleep, but recently he’d been managing on even less than usual. And when he did? Jumbled dreams that woke him in a sweat and a hard on that pulsed painfully between his legs.
He adjusted his tie, pulling the knot tight with a hard tug before smoothing down his already perfectly brushed hair. Tilting his chin upwards, he was ready to face whatever the day threw at him.
Reception was already busy, the young receptionist charming a couple of guests if their laughter was any indication. Waiting staff went back and forth bearing trays of breakfast to those who wished to eat privately, and housekeeping moved with quiet, quick efficiency as they geared up to clean and tidy rooms. The spa, a newly built addition but connected to the main, older building by a warm corridor decorated in muted, soothing tones, was quiet — at least for now — but would soon fill with guests who wished to have the stresses of life pummelled or brushed away. In the pool, an aqua yoga class was taking place, the faint tones of what Luca always secretly thought of as tuneless, annoying whale music reaching his ears.
Making his way to the dining room, where most of the tables were already occupied, he greeted the staff by name as he moved through. Stopping at the breakfast buffet, he frowned. The almond croissant basket was less than half full. The maitre’d rushed across, concern on his face.
“Good morning, Mr. Graham. Is there a problem?”
Luca looked at the poorly stocked basket. “It’s the small things that make a difference. Details, you need to remember that. Please ensure all items are fully stocked at all times,” Luca said smoothly, and quietly. “This is a premier establishment, and our guests notice these things.”As do I.He smiled, holding the man’s gaze. Luca never raised his voice to a member of staff; he didn’t have to, not when his direct gaze made his meaning clear:Do not make me speak to you about this again.
“Understood, Mr. Graham. My apologies.”
Luca nodded his head, and smiled, as he made his way towards the kitchen.
The heat hit him as soon as he walked in. Chefs of all grades darted around. The clash of pots and pans, the whoosh of burners, and Rhonda geeing everybody up to get moving, to stop dawdling, that guests were waiting. The scene was chaotic, but Luca knew it was really anything but. Like the rest of the hotel, the kitchen was a tightly run machine.
“Mr. Graham.” Rhonda raised her hand. In public, in front of the staff, he was always Mr. Graham. The kitchen paused, or seemed to, as everybody stilled for a moment and looked up before they threw themselves back into work.
“Everything as it should be?” Luca asked, when she came over.
Rhonda nodded. Without a word, she assembled a small plate, with various tasters from the breakfast menu, and handed him a fork. Brioche, bacon, eggs, salmon, béarnaise sauce, and a whole lot more, he tasted it all.
“Excellent.” He put the fork down on the plate, which was whisked away by a kitchen porter. “You have everything you need for today?”
