Bella's Impossible Boss

by Michelle Douglas

He noticed then the unusual way Marco’s glaze slid away from Bella’s. What on earth? This pair adored each other! There was no reason for all this nonsensical awkwardness.

  Marco took a sip of coffee. He took a bite of cake. Bella ignored her mug and plate. ‘This is very good,’ he grumbled. He took another bite and then slammed his plate to the table. ‘But it does not change the fact that you must get rid of that cat!’

  Bella raced across to pick up Minky’s cage and clutch it to her chest. ‘I can’t!’ For a moment Dominic thought she might cry. ‘This is my friend Mel’s cat. You remember Mel, Papa?’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘Mel’s father recently died.’

  Dominic’s cake—and Bella had been right, it was seriously good—halted halfway to his mouth. He lowered it back to his place. The stiffness shot out of Marco.

  ‘Mel...’ Bella hiccupped, but she didn’t cry. ‘Mel,’ she started again, ‘has gone to Melbourne to help her mother out for a bit and she couldn’t take Minky as her mother is allergic to cats.’

  Bella rested her cheek against the cage. To Dominic’s astonishment, Minky pressed her face to Bella’s and started to purr. ‘Mel loves Minky. She told me it would break her heart if she had to put her into a cattery.’ Bella lifted her head. ‘Her heart, it needed a rest. She didn’t need any more worries. She was so happy when I said I’d take care of Minky.’

  Her friend had lost her father at about the same time Bella had found out how much she’d disappointed her own? An ache started up behind Dominic’s eyes. She had a big heart, this woman, and she was doing what she could to make things right for everyone.

  Marco swallowed once, twice. He cleared his throat. He pointed at Bella. ‘You keep that cat!’ He glared around the apartment. ‘We will lose the apartment instead. I will organise for you both to be moved tomorrow. To a better, more suitable apartment where you can work properly and that will let you keep pets.’

  ‘Thank you, Papa.’

  Bella lowered the cage, but she didn’t race across and engulf her father in a hug like he sensed she would like to. Marco didn’t stride across and kiss Bella’s cheek, as Dominic swore the older man ached to. He glanced from one to the other. Right.

  He clapped his hands. ‘The two of you, come with me.’

  Bella blinked. ‘But we haven’t finished.’

  ‘No arguments!’

  She rolled her eyes at Marco. ‘You see what I have to put up with?’

  ‘I know, I know,’ Marco muttered back. ‘You see the way he speaks to me?’

  Dominic hustled them out of the apartment. He took them down to the beach. Without a word he dropped to his knees in the sand and started digging.

  Bella stared. Her eyes widened and then she started to laugh.

  ‘What is this?’ Marco demanded.

  ‘We’re building sandcastles,’ Bella explained. ‘Dominic has become quite the dab hand at them.’ Her eyes danced. ‘A champion, perhaps.’

  Marco’s jaw dropped. And then he shrugged out of his jacket and crouched down, his jaw thrust out. ‘We’ll see who the champion is, my girl.’

  Bella knelt in the sand, too. They set about building turrets and moats and intricate canal systems. They set about building a world of dreams.

  CHAPTER TEN

  AT THE knock on his office door, Dominic glanced up and warmth surged through him. Bella stood in the doorway. His gut tightened at her smile, at the way she leaned a shoulder against the doorframe.

  He gestured to a chair, but she shook her head. ‘This is a flying visit, I’m afraid. I just wanted to thank you for yesterday.’

  His blood throbbed. He leaned back and wished to heaven he’d never kissed this woman, because now that he had he wanted to taste her again and again.

  He couldn’t, of course. A taste wouldn’t stop at one kiss and there was a whole host of reasons why he should avoid her.

  ‘Not just for helping me look for Minky in the afternoon, but for smoothing the way between Papa and me.’

  Yesterday—after they’d built a sandcastle that could only be described as a work of art—they’d gone back to the apartment where Bella had cooked the most divine pasta Dominic had ever tasted. They’d laughed and talked. All the tension and restraint had evaporated. Marco had regaled them with tales of the days he’d spent in Newcastle. It had been a good night.

  He remembered Bella and Marco’s laughter and shook his head. It had been a great night.

  She twisted her hands together, shifted her weight from one leg to the other, met his gaze and then glanced away. He understood her tension; it spiralled through him too whenever they were alone.

  ‘Bella, your father adores you.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ She bit her lip as her gaze speared to his. ‘So you have to see how important it is that, this time, I don’t let him down.’

  ‘You won’t,’ he assured her. Then he frowned. ‘I understand you want to make your father proud, but it’s more important that you are proud of yourself, you know, Bella.’

  She blinked.

  ‘Those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.’ He could see she didn’t believe him. Somehow her very self-esteem was wrapped up in the success of her restaurant. It made him uneasy.

  ‘I will be proud of myself once I’ve created the most fabulous restaurant my father has ever seen.’

  ‘Speaking of which...’ Her gaze slid away again and she worried at her thumbnail.

  ‘Dominic—’

  She started at the same time as he said, ‘Bella.’

  He gestured for her to continue, but she shook her head quickly. ‘No, no, after you.’

  He’d wanted to bring this up last night, but had been loath to raise it in front of Marco. ‘Yesterday in the alley, you gave that homeless man a business card. Was it your business card?’

  He knew she had a big heart, but if she wasn’t careful someone could take serious advantage of her. He’d do whatever was necessary to prevent that.

  She blinked, snapped upright, and for a moment he’d thought he’d offended her, then she laughed. ‘What? Do you think I’m a complete moron?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘You and Marco both think of me as a child, don’t you?’

  The memory of their kiss smacked into him. A child? Nope; absolutely not. That had to be the biggest, most wholehearted ‘no’ in the history of man as far as he was concerned. He raised an eyebrow. Her cheeks flushed a deep pink. He shifted on his chair and ordered himself to forget about that kiss. ‘So, uh...’ He cleared his throat. ‘Whose business card did you give him?’

  She stared at him and then glanced down at her watch and gave a tiny grimace. ‘Ack, the time! I’ll tell you about it later.’

  ‘Bella!’ He wasn’t going to let her avoid him on this issue for a second time. If anything happened to her, Marco would hold him personally responsible.

  He’d hold himself personally responsible. If anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.

  She swung back. Challenge lit her eyes and she stuck out a hip. ‘Are you busy for the next hour or so?’

  ‘Nothing that can’t wait.’

  ‘Well, if you want to find out what I’m up to, then walk this way.’

  She turned and sauntered away and didn’t glance back to see if he followed. He didn’t hesitate. He rose to his feet and set after her. One thing was certain—things were never boring when Bella was around. She had a talent for living that he found addictive, a talent he still hadn’t got to the heart of.

  They stopped via the kitchen to collect two covered hampers. He could tell at a glance how well respected she was by the kitchen staff, how much they liked her. He insisted on carrying the larger hamper. He’d have carried the smaller one too if she’d have let him.

  ‘Where are we going?’ he asked as she led him outside.

  ‘You’ll see.’

  The sky was blue, the sun was shining, the faintest hint of salt scented the air and suddenly h
e didn’t want to press her. He walked beside her, savoured the warmth of the sun on his face instead and let her lead the way. He didn’t doubt that it’d all become clear soon enough.

  They travelled down the pedestrian mall into the city centre and, although Bella’s steps were brisk with purpose, he found the muscles in his neck started to loosen. He hadn’t even known they were tight.

  ‘Look.’ She pointed. ‘Don’t you just love those plane trees?’

  A line of them marched down the paved path of the mall; their leaves, a young green, had just started to unfurl. She tossed her head. ‘I’m going to come back here in summer. I want to swim at the beach and see these plane trees in all their glory and—’

  ‘Eat ice-cream and build sandcastles,’ he finished for her.

  ‘Ooh, yes! It sounds divine, doesn’t it?’

  It did. He could afford to holiday anywhere in the world, but Bella was right—Newcastle in summer sounded divine.

  ‘Up this way.’ She pointed and led him up a side street. ‘And here we are.’ She ducked inside a brick building that was nondescript and a bit shabby. Dominic read the plaque by the door and his jaw dropped. What on earth? He shot inside after her but she’d already disappeared from view.

  The interior was dim and a little musty. He had to wait for his eyes to adjust before following the sound of voices out towards the back of the building.

  He pulled up short in a wide doorway. Approximately twenty men, most of them getting on in years, and all of them as shabby as the building itself, sat in a large dining room. Something clenched up hard and tight inside him as he glanced around.

  Hell! He swore under his breath. Double hell! Why had Bella brought him to this place? Why did she want to show him these men?

  Men who reminded him so vividly of his father.

  As if his thoughts had conjured her, Bella waltzed into the room from a doorway at the side and a cheer went up. She carried three trays laden with tiny vol-au-vent pastries. She set a tray on each of the three tables. Then she stood back, hands on hips, as their contents were promptly devoured. He couldn’t believe what short work the men made of them.

  ‘Well?’ she demanded. ‘Are they better than yesterday’s or not?’

  A great din erupted. Bella shushed the men and then demanded a show of hands.

  This was how Bella was spending her lunch breaks—at St Xavier’s Men’s Shelter? He caught sight of a battered and patched coat and the memories hit him: coming home from school to find his father passed out; the smell of cheap port; the utter poverty and the dirtiness of it all. He backed up a step. He’d left that world behind. He had no intention of revisiting it.

  But more memories bombarded him, and along with them the same old sense of helplessness and powerlessness he’d experienced as a child. The fear and failure that had gripped him as he’d slowly faced the fact that he couldn’t help his father, that he couldn’t stop him drinking. The overwhelming sense of inadequacy. And the fear that he would end up the same way.

  None of it had been his fault. He knew that now, but...

  His chest hollowed out. His eyes burned. Why hadn’t he been enough for his father? If Dominic ever had a son, he would never emotionally desert him. He’d look after him. Love him.

  He swung away and moved back through the building, needing to feel the warmth of the sun on his face and draw cleansing breaths into his lungs. A hand on his arm pulled him to a stop. ‘Dominic, where are you going?’

  He rounded on her. ‘Away from this place! Why the hell did you bring me here?’

  ‘Because...’ Comprehension dawned in the soft depths of her eyes. ‘Oh! Your father.’ Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Dominic, I’m sorry. I didn’t think of that.’ She pulled her hand away. ‘The business card I gave the man in the alley, it was for this place.’

  Of course it was.

  ‘Dominic—’

  ‘No!’ He didn’t know what she meant to ask him, but the answer was no. ‘I’ve left that world behind.’

  These men would be running away from something, letting someone down. He refused to be party to that. They didn’t deserve Bella’s food, her smiles or her charity. And they didn’t deserve his!

  ‘Right. Fine.’ She swallowed and gestured. ‘May I have my basket before you leave, please?’

  That was when he realised he still clenched the handle of the hamper in his right hand. A hamper that no doubt contained the men’s dinner. He shoved it at her.

  She took it gingerly. ‘Thank you.’

  He couldn’t help noticing that she held it in both hands and he frowned. It was pretty heavy.

  Not his problem!

  But before he could spin away she spoke again. ‘You have left that world behind, Dominic, well and truly. You are a different man than your father. You will never suffer the same fate. I wonder why you can’t believe that.’

  He did believe that. He would never go back to that life. Never.

  ‘Life broke your father’s heart and I know that’s why you protect yours so fiercely.’

  He blinked.

  ‘But can’t you open it just a crack, be grateful for everything you do have, and give back just a little bit?’

  He gaped at her. ‘Grateful?’

  ‘Yes, grateful!’ she snapped. ‘Grateful that you have an intelligent brain in your head and that you had the opportunity to go to university and build a good life for yourself. Grateful that you work for one of the most fantastic companies on the planet. Grateful that you have nice things—clothes, a ritzy car and no doubt a nice apartment.

  ‘Damn it, Dominic! You should be grateful that illness or injury or events haven’t conspired to prevent you from achieving all that you have. And now you want to bellyache about giving a little to those who haven’t been as lucky as you? Pah!’

  If she hadn’t been holding the basket, he knew she’d have flung a hand in the air to indicate her disgust.

  ‘But before you can do that you’d have to forgive your father, and you don’t want to, do you?’

  Every word sliced through him.

  ‘Perhaps you ought to think about it, because as far as I can see the only person you’re hurting is yourself.’

  He couldn’t think of a single retort. Without another word, she turned and headed back towards the dining room.

  * * *

  Bella’s heart gave a thump that almost knocked the breath from her body when she glanced up five minutes later to find Dominic silhouetted in the kitchen doorway. Her complete happiness at seeing him took her off-guard.

  She swallowed. That couldn’t be good.

  But the fact he’d stayed made her want to seize his hands and dance him around the room.

  Only, he didn’t look as if he wanted to be danced around the room. He looked as if he wanted to throttle her. She might’ve shamed him into staying, but that didn’t mean she’d reconciled him to this place or these people.

  Her mouth went dry. It had been a mistake to bring him here.

  ‘What can I do?’ His voice was clipped and short.

  She wanted to tell him to go, but didn’t know how to do so without making the situation worse. ‘Potatoes,’ she finally said. ‘We have a lot of potatoes to peel.’

  Without another word, he moved to the mountain of potatoes on the opposite bench and set to work.

  * * *

  ‘Signorina Bella, have you spoken to Mr Dominic yet about the budget?’

  Bella pulled her mind back from pictures of Dominic helping to serve lunch at St Xavier’s earlier in the day. From pictures of broad, drool-worthy shoulders tight with tension and a beautiful mouth set in a hard straight line.

  He’d frozen her out. He hadn’t spoken to her. He’d barely glanced at her.

  ‘Uh, no.’ She and Luigi had spent the afternoon putting a couple of sous chefs through their paces and were now going through the paperwork. Though in truth Bella had been leaving most of that to Luigi. She didn’t have a talent for paperwork.


  Luigi turned reproachful eyes to her. ‘But you promised, signorina. That’s why you went to see Mr Dominic this morning.’

  She knew why Luigi was so worried. They would have to start hiring new chefs soon, but Luigi refused to do that until he had the official nod from Dominic. They couldn’t leave it much longer.

  ‘We got side-tracked.’ She didn’t know what on earth had prompted her to invite Dominic along to the men’s shelter, but since his less-than-enthusiastic reaction she’d been kicking herself for the impulse. She hadn’t meant to rake up painful memories for him. And, to make matters worse, had it really been necessary to abuse him like she had? Nice one, Bella.

  After they’d cleaned up the lunch at St Xavier’s, they’d walked back to the hotel in silence. Dominic’s brooding frown had prohibited conversation. Bringing up questions about budgets hadn’t seemed wise.

  It didn’t seem wise now, either. She’d stirred terrible memories for Dominic, wounding memories, without warning and without giving him a chance to compose himself. The last thing he’d want right now was to see her. She knew that deep in her bones. The problem was, she’d already delayed this budget issue for too long. She hadn’t meant to, but...

  She pushed her shoulders back, pulled in a breath and consoled herself with the thought that, once she did have Dominic’s official go-ahead, her restaurant would be the best restaurant Newcastle had ever seen. Marco would love it. And he’d be proud of her.

  She rubbed her hands in anticipation of that. She could see the glory of their opening night: her father and Dominic in tuxedos; she in something black and sophisticated; their dining room filled with beautiful, glittering people and her father enjoying the company; the plaudits; savouring the food. And then her father looking over at her with pride in his eyes, acknowledging she had created the restaurant of his dreams. Her heart started to expand in her chest.

  ‘Bella!’

  A rap on the door snapped her to. Dominic. Her blood heated up and all the fine hairs on her arms and the nape of her neck lifted to attention.

  ‘A word, if I may?’

  He didn’t smile. She swallowed. ‘Of course.’

  ‘In my office.’