Chapter Four

A/N: No reviewers.

Emily signed yet another piece of paper, ignoring the ache beginning to make itself known in her hand. It was her first day as General Manager for Hotel Babylon, and she had correctly anticipated just how boring the job would be. She was used to being out and about, conversing with guests and trying to generate positive publicity for the hotel, a job that she truly loved. Instead, she was sat at a desk alone in an office, signing document after document. 'Now I can see why I've never wanted to be in management.' she sighed in her mind. 'It has to be the most boring job in the world.'

She was trying to cling on to her positivity, but it was steadily slipping away from her, as she looked from the small pile of documents she had already dealt with to the huge mountain of paperwork still requiring her signature. 'I've only been doing this job for half a day, and I'm already starting to lose the will to live. If they can't find another GM soon, I don't know how I'll cope.'

She dismissed the paperwork for a little while, reaching instead for the cafetière of coffee Ben had brought her fifteen minutes ago, on his break. It was barely eleven o'clock, and yet the cup she sipped at now was her third cup of coffee that day, and she seriously doubted that it would be the last, if things did not liven up a little. For the first time in her life, Emily wanted for things to go wrong, just for the sake of giving her something to do.

As if by magic, a knock sounded at the door, and the blonde tried not to answer too hurriedly, and to give away that she was bored out of her skull. She had to disguise her sigh of relief when Tony appeared round the door, although she doubted that had been necessary, as from the concierge's expression, he was well aware of her lack of enthusiasm for her new position.

"Having fun?" he asked her, his cheeky smile showing his sarcasm as much as his voice.

"This is a nightmare." she answered honestly, with all pretences put aside. She knew that she did not need them with Tony; he seemed to have the ability to see right through her anyway.

"Well, I thought that the seat of power would be right up your alley." he pointed out, and she flashed him a quick humourless smile before turning her eye to the next piece of paper, signing it and moving it along to the smaller pile.

She heard rather than saw Tony pull up a chair near the desk, as she had returned her concentration to the task in hand. She had to finish all these documents before the end of the day, and though she would be working for another seven hours at least, there was always the chance of a disaster taking up her time. 'Besides, I'm still meant to be dealing with the PR for the hotel. They haven't hired anyone to do that for me. The quicker I finish these papers, the quicker I can get back to the job I actually like doing.'

However, she placed her pen down on the desk quickly as an envelope collided with it, almost causing her to strike a line across the page she was signing. She bit her tongue to stop herself from sighing, as she didn't want to annoy Tony or give him any excuse to leave her alone again. She didn't think that her sanity would prevail through another few hours of nothing but signing papers.

"What's this?" she asked the man, her eyes on the envelope as she broke the seal and pulled the paper from within. Almost immediately, she saw the emblem of the Guild of Luxury Hoteliers printed at the top of the page. It was an image she recognised without hesitation, as she had seen it displayed in every one of her father's hotels, where she had spent the majority of her childhood, not to mention engraved onto a plaque outside Babylon itself. "Why is the Guild sending us letters?"

"It's not sent to the hotel, if you notice. It's addressed to you." Tony pointed out. A quick glance at the name written above the address confirmed this, and also put stock into a suspicion she had harboured ever since learning the letter's origins.

"This has my dad's fingerprints all over it." Emily sighed, quickly scanning over the contents of the letter. It was an invitation to a conference with all the best London hotels, to discuss how to improve their service and, no doubt, how to widen their profit margins. It was just the kind of thing Damien Rushby was always trying to push his daughter into; just the kind of thing she had spent half her life trying to avoid.

After showing the letter to Tony, he fell silent for a little while, a rarity for a man who usually had such an abundance of quips to make. However, when he did speak, he offered Emily sound advice, just as he had always done.

"I think you should go, you know." he told her. "Babylon needs a representative, and I can't think of anyone better equipped for the task than you, Emily. So why don't you get out there and show them what you've achieved on your own? Finally break free of your dad's shadow and make a name for yourself. And God only knows, after recent years, Babylon needs all the good publicity it can get."

That drew a laugh from her throat, at least, and eventually, the young blonde nodded her agreement and ushered Tony out of the office, claiming that she had too much paperwork to be getting on with to listen to him chatting away in her ear any longer. It was a half truth; she hadn't minded Tony talking to her in the least, but for now, she wanted a bit of time alone.

Unable to stop herself, Emily spun her chair around, until she came to face the photo frame she had placed face down on the counter against the wall. With tentative fingers, she lifted it up, revealing a photograph that had been taken little over six months earlier. The picture was of the entire staff, the day Sam had officially got his paperwork sorted and had become the owner of the hotel. Smiling, he was standing with his arm around Juliet, but his other hand seemed to be reaching out in Emily's direction, as if he had wanted to take her hand in his but had not had the courage to do so. The young woman had stopped trying to understand the gesture, and doubted that it meant anything at all. 'If it had done, he wouldn't have abandoned his hotel, his friends, his livelihood. Me.'

Like a cold wind crossing through an open window, the realisation swept over Emily James. 'It's not his hotel anymore; it's mine. And it's about time I showed the world.'

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