Love to Hate You

Chapter Seventeen - Taking Flight

Mattie knocked on Rafe's office door the following morning; a mug of fancy coffee in her hand.

'Good morning, Matilda,' Rafe said, smoothly, his eyes caressing her body lasciviously. 'Brilliant coffee, today,' he said, beckoning her into his office once he had safely prised his drink from Mattie's careless grasp. But he said this whilst looking intently at the swell of Mattie's breasts; shrouded in a white cotton shirt, which was just thin enough to make Rafe think she was wearing a purple bra. His eyes moved quite deliberately to her narrow waist, which was cinched in by a form-fitting, high-waisted pencil skirt, which was really, a little on the short side. Rafe held out his hand gesturing for Mattie to precede him into the room, and as she did, his eyes fell instantly to her backside. 'Delicious coffee, actually,' he murmured, and Mattie twisted her head and gave him a knowing smile. Caught – but not remorseful – Rafe pointed to a sketchbook which Mattie carried under her arm.

'What's that?' he asked, nodding to the A2 sketch pad.

'Well,' she blushed, looking charmingly uncertain. 'I did some pastels based on your original plans for Oliver Thompson – the ones using the first brief.'

'Oh?' Rafe asked, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. He instantly walked forward towards his desk, keen to see how she had interpreted his designs. When Mattie made no move to open the pad, Rafe frowned. 'Are you not going to show me, then?'

'I will, but I was thinking about what Thompson said; he wanted the perspective of the everyman – only in this case, the man is a woman – and the everyman doesn't think in terms of lines and angles, but colour and interior design, as well as structural architect-y stuff. You stand by your original plans, and I agree. I looked at his new brief, and I think he's just confused; he can't visualise your ideas in the flesh. That's what I've tried to do for him with my drawings. I've taken a lot of liberties, of course. I've no idea what kind of bedding and sofas he wants, but no one gets that warm feeling when looking at buying a vacant house or apartment; they like to see it lived in, don't they?'

'Alright,' Rafe nodded, licking his lips and pushing his coffee well clear of Mattie's artwork. 'Show me then.' Mattie chewed on the inside of her lip apprehensively, and pushed the sketchpad across the desk, so that Rafe was able to turn the pages at his will.

The first drawing was of the hotel façade; planters sat on the pavement outside to soften the hard lines of the glass frontage. Behind the glass was a swell of melded colour, where sofas could be glimpsed about the front atrium. Next was that glass atrium which had so disconcerted Oliver Thompson once he was stood in the cleared build site. Mattie had envisaged it with a reception desk, a collection of seating, modern up-lights, and light streaking down from the triple-height glass ceiling, bouncing off the tiled walls. She'd even added a long bench of Mac computers, so that guests could check in remotely, could book a table at dinner, schedule spa treatments, or order room service for later that evening. Rafe was impressed by that, because it had never been discussed with Oliver Thompson, so he assumed she must have dreamt it up, herself.

The third sketch was of a bedroom, dressed with soft furnishings to make the room feel just feminine enough to conjure images of boutique hotels and romantic evenings, whilst maintaining that modern, minimalist edge which Oliver Thompson wanted for his hotel. Recessed mood-lighting gave the room a cool, electronic vibe, but the pinks and purples of the glowing light made it feel soft and cosy, rather than harsh and clinical. The final picture was the hotel wine bar, with the bar itself wrapping around the footprint of the glass ceiling to the atrium, so that barmen would walk upon a daring glass floor, whilst guests sat safely on their secure, black granite.

'Mattie,' Rafe said, his voice hesitant; his hand scrubbing lethargically at his jaw.

'Yes?' she asked, tentatively.