Her Ruthless Italian Boss

by Christina Hollis

  Her heart stood still. How could he talk like that, but touch her like this, with such tenderness? Beth knew she would never be able to resist him, but Luca’s self-control was legendary. Or at least it had been, once upon a time…

  Two could play the temptation game. However much it hurt, Beth decided she had to pretend to turn off her feelings to order, in the same way he did.

  ‘All right.’ She nodded, stepping away from his touch. ‘When do we leave for Paris?’

  Her voice was husky with anticipation, but Luca stilled it with a sentence.

  ‘Early in the morning, which is why I must leave you right now,’ he murmured, reaching out to give her cheek a final, idle caress. Turning away, he started along the landing. His final words were thrown casually over his shoulder.

  ‘And thanks again for being such a great success at the party this evening, cara. I’m glad you enjoyed it!’

  She stared after him, lost for words. He kept giving her the sweetest possible hints of what she had been missing for so long. How could he walk away every time, leaving her body simmering with this boiling need for him?

  Luca strolled toward his room, wondering why he didn’t feel good about what had just happened. He’d proved once again Beth had no hold over him. However powerful his physical need for her, he could still master it.

  Then his expression altered. Beth had surprised him. In Balacha, she had told him it was marriage or nothing. Tonight, she had come up with the idea of forging herself a career. Perhaps she had changed…but then, look at the way she had jumped at the chance to visit Paris with him. They might be going as boss and PA, but they would be staying in the most romantic city in the world…

  A sudden riot of pain in his lower back made him stop with a gasp. Before Beth Woodbury had walked back into his life, he would have blamed it on too much dancing. Now it was memories of one fateful night in Balacha twisting the knife. Black thoughts crowded in on him again.

  What if she hadn’t totally given up the idea of ensnaring him? This might be the chance she was looking for, to seduce him.

  He checked his watch and then took a few slow steps, testing himself. The pain eased, but never really went away. When it returned like this, it brought back all those agonising memories.

  As he paused in the silence the cold moon showed its face again. Shafts of silvery light streamed into the gallery. It skimmed the nearest statue, striking bitter sparks from Apollo’s marble fingers as he tried to possess a nymph.

  Luca looked at his own hands. Only moments before, they had been pressed against Beth’s skin. It did not take much to imagine her warm softness under his fingertips now. He looked at the tormented marble figures beside him. The sculptor had frozen their frustration for all time—a god doomed to lust after the one thing he could never have. In a few hours’ time, Luca would be taking Beth to Paris, with no need to worry about any consequences. They had an agreement. He needed a PA. All she wanted—she said—was a career, and while she was working for him he could teach her. That was all there was to the bargain. Once trained, she would disappear from his life again as suddenly as she had entered it. And that would be the end of their story.

  Luca began to feel strangely uneasy. He tried to shake off the sensation. It was impossible. He had no idea why his mind kept returning to the idea of Beth going away. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time she had left him. He ought to be used to it. And back in Balacha, he would have been delighted if she’d started showing some independence. She hadn’t managed to tie him down then, so if she wanted to strike out now he ought to be pleased. His life was his own, and if Beth got as much satisfaction out of her future career as he got from his…

  He grimaced again, and dropped his hands to his side in irritation. Then he straightened up and force-marched on towards his suite. Whatever his body might be telling him, he refused to be trapped by anything: lust, pain or any woman—especially Beth Woodbury. Right now, part of it was becoming as rigid as the statue of Apollo, but Luca knew he could conquer the feeling. When it came to Beth he could take her, or he could leave her alone, he reassured himself. If her interest in the fine-art business was more than a whim, the trip to Paris could be a vital part of her education. It meant nothing to him, other than the fact she was there to act as his personal assistant.

  By the time he reached his rooms, Luca had rationalised all his problems away. Dropping his masquerade mask on a chair, he went straight into his bedroom. Pouring out a long glass of iced water, he took a couple of painkillers. He counted the minutes until they took effect, his fingers dancing over the only good thing to come out of Balacha. It lay on his bedside table. Silvia the housekeeper insisted all his other medals should be on display in one of the cabinets in the dining hall. Luca refused to have this one stared at, and commented on by his guests. It stayed in his private rooms, which were out of bounds to everyone except Silvia. Everything else he valued was locked away, out of sight.

  The pain gripped him again. He put a clenched fist to the small of his back, using pressure to counteract it. What he needed was distraction. The contents of that secret compartment inside his dressing chest were guaranteed to deflect his mind. Crossing the room, he opened the top drawer and operated a hidden catch.

  The compartment held only two things: a photograph, and a seashell threaded onto a fine gold chain. The necklace was broken, its delicate fastening torn wide open and useless. Luca picked it up. For a while, he had carried it with him everywhere. But, unlike pain, even Beth’s fragrance had disappeared eventually. Now her broken necklace lived here, instead of in his wallet. Tonight, its chain swung between his fingers like a pendulum marking time. Turning the shell around to catch the light, he studied it intently. Delicate as sea-washed porcelain, it was iridescent with mother-of-pearl.

  The pendant had kept all its colours, but the snapshot stored with it had not lasted so well. Cheap film and a throw-away camera meant it had faded badly. Luca placed the necklace carefully back onto its bed of cotton wool. Then he picked up the photograph and looked at it closely. Every detail was still there, although he didn’t need to look at it to remind himself what they were. The photo graph was of Beth, and she was smiling. Her expression spoke to him clearly now, but at the time he had been too busy to listen. The picture showed a girl who had completely convinced herself she was in love. As the shutter clicked she had expected him to feel the same way—as if it were her God-given right to be adored.

  Luca went over all the old arguments. Her talk of marriage had been the final touch-paper. From birth, other people’s expectations had mapped out his life for him. He had been packed off to board at the best schools. Later he had become a soldier, always with the unspoken under standing he would bring honour to the Francesco family name in everything he did.

  But now Luca was the only one left. He was in total control, and calling all the shots. He had more money than anyone could ever spend, and he could do what he liked. Everything about his life had changed completely over the past five years.

  Everything, except the perfect seashell Beth had once worn around her neck.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  BETH took her time getting undressed. Her mind was too full to think of sleep. Luca’s passion ebbed and flowed like the sea, but she was continually at high tide. She wanted him so much—why did he always shut her out at the last moment? She stroked the heavy velvet of her gown with the same wistful longing she wanted to use on him. Packing all her masquerade clothes away with her dreams, she got into her lonely bed. For a long time sleep was impossible. Luca was only metres away, and the thought kept her mind racing. When at last she managed to doze, vivid dreams of him rolled her about fitfully until she woke up hot with expectation. Her mind and body were already alight with the thought of travelling to Paris with him. He was such a seasoned traveller he probably wasn’t giving it a second thought, but Beth’s mind was full of it.

  She was ready to go down to breakfast long before it was light. By the
time he walked in, she was idling over her second cappuccino. The moment he swung into view she stood up and created his first coffee of the day.

  ‘One macciato, with a teaspoonful of Demerara sugar.’

  ‘You remembered.’

  He looked impressed, but then his face fell. ‘Although I gave up sugar a long time ago.’

  ‘This much won’t kill you.’

  He took a sip, and smiled.

  Wanting to keep the approval in his eyes, Beth went over to the buffet table. It was loaded with enough fresh fruit, juices and bakery to feed an army. Everything was set out in crystal bowls or wicker baskets lined with mono grammed liners. She picked up a neatly folded napkin, and a plate.

  ‘Have what you like.’

  ‘I’ve already finished mine. This is for you.’ She began looking over the rolls, already wondering whether he would prefer a seeded roll, a pastry or crackers. Luca curled his lip.

  ‘Thanks, Beth, but no.’ He moved forward sharply, abandoning his coffee and taking the plate from her hands. ‘This arrangement of ours will be strictly business.’

  She looked up, slightly flushed with embarrassment. ‘Fine—then I’ll get on with programming my laptop.’ She sat down and began fiddling with her computer.

  ‘You’ve started work already?’ He sounded impressed.

  ‘Of course. Don’t forget, I saw how you worked in—’ she hesitated, changing what she had been about to say ‘—in the past. The way Andria’s always kept so busy must mean nothing has changed.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Luca said bitterly.

  He passed behind her to take his place at the dining table. Watching him pull out his chair and sit down, Beth winced at the way his hand-crafted suit emphasised the lean lines of his body. Luca always looked smart, but he rarely looked satisfied.

  Beth waited until he had settled himself before she began to speak. ‘Now, signor, I need to feed your timetable into this thing…’

  He reached into his pocket and slid his organiser across the table towards her. Without looking up, Beth began going through the entries.

  ‘The first thing I must do is ring Andria and explain—’

  ‘I’ve done it.’ He dipped one end of a croissant into a pool of strawberry conserve, but paused when he saw Beth’s look of concern.

  ‘She’s fine.’ He smiled. ‘I told her she could move in here, at the palazzo, for a week of luxurious living free of charge.’

  With a sigh of relief, Beth went back to studying his timetable.

  ‘You don’t have anything scheduled for tomorrow morning….’ She looked up, confused.

  ‘It’s because I’ve cancelled a working breakfast to make time for teaching you,’ he said, chasing a last few crumbs around his bone china breakfast plate.

  Beth stared at him in horror. ‘Luca! I mean—Signor Francesco. You can’t do that, just for me. I’ll ring whoever it was, and explain there’s been a mistake—’

  ‘No, you won’t.’ Luca reached out. His hand went over hers, stopping her busy fingers. She looked up.

  ‘Petit dejeuner with the Comte was going to be as much a social occasion as anything else, and you know how much I enjoy those.’

  She smiled at him, but his attention was elsewhere. Standing up, he went over to the buffet and brought back a whole basket of rolls and a glass dish of low-fat spread. After peeling an almost white flake off the block of margarine, he dropped the knife in disgust.

  Beth had been trying not to notice, but that was too much for her to bear. Without a word, she fetched a replacement knife from the buffet—along with a crystal bowl of sunflower-yellow butter.

  ‘You can blame me for leading you astray, signor.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  She pretended to study his organiser, but watched him all the time from beneath her lowered lashes. He spread the butter over the soft white bread of his roll with great care. When he took a bite it was with real relish. Hiding a smile, Beth tapped the stylus on the screen of his organiser to concentrate her mind on the job in hand.

  ‘Right—I’ve finished transferring everything, so it looks as though my last question for the moment is…what time would you like your alarm call set in the morning, signor?’

  ‘Ten minutes before yours.’

  Luca’s voice was low with meaning. Beth looked up to find his dark eyes twinkling at her over the rim of his coffee-cup. ‘I shall call it my independence time. The only moments I’ll be able to call my own.’

  ‘All right, I can take a hint!’ She laughed, and began to pack her things away. ‘I’ll leave you to enjoy the rest of your breakfast; although there’s one more thing I need to ask. Can I go and pick up a few books from the palazzo library to read on our flight?’

  ‘There’s a selection all ready for you, piled up on the table nearest the window.’

  ‘Thank you, that’s great.’ Beth was relieved, and it gave her enough confidence to ask a second question. ‘I’ve transferred all those mysterious little symbols peppered through your schedule into my own diary, but where can I find out what they mean?’

  ‘You can’t.’ He concentrated on buttering another roll. ‘They don’t mean anything to anyone but me.’

  ‘But as your PA—’

  ‘Beth, you don’t need to know. Trust me.’

  ‘Fine. OK.’

  Beth carried on getting ready to leave the table. When she handed him his organiser, he moved forward slowly as though he could hardly believe she was doing it in silence.

  ‘That’s it? You mean you aren’t going to argue?’

  He was looking at her with curiosity. Turning away, Beth headed for the dining-room door.

  ‘Nope.’

  Her reply was offhand, and she didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. His reaction told her everything she wanted to know. It filled in the gaps between all the hints dropped by his party guests the night before. The code must mean Luca’s appetite for women was as rampant as ever. There could be no other explanation.

  It’s just me he doesn’t want, she thought, feeling her heart turn inside out.

  With delight, Beth found Luca did not travel by scheduled airline. When they got to the airport, a private plane was waiting for them on the tarmac. She recognised its crest immediately. It was the same design used all around the palazzo, from its doors to the bed linen. A smartly dressed steward escorted her up the steps and into the plane. There, she was settled in a roomy armchair-like seat. She almost had to pinch herself as a second man handed her a tall glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. It was almost like going on holiday, and it had been years since Beth had been able to afford one of those. Now she was being waited on hand, foot and finger. It was incredible. Not only was she relaxing in a space that looked and felt like an executive lounge, she had a personal flight attendant. Among other things, he told her there was a fully equipped bathroom on board.

  ‘You could almost live on this plane,’ Beth joked as Luca joined her in the cabin.

  ‘It’s possible. The bedroom is behind us,’ he replied, but kept his smile for the steward who greeted him with a rundown of travel conditions. ‘Although it won’t be needed today. You’ll be glad it’s a short flight for once, Sam,’ he added as the steward handed him a drink.

  There was always real warmth in Luca’s tone when he talked to his staff. It never failed to catch at Beth’s heart. She longed for him to speak to her like that, but he was already being handed his laptop. As he plugged into the onboard business facilities he spoke without looking up.

  ‘Please excuse me, but I’ve got a mountain of work to deal with. If you need anything, Sam or the others are constantly on hand.’

  He settled into one of the wide seats and logged onto his computer. The steward showed Beth how to access the power circuit herself, assuming she would be working, too. With a flutter of horror, she realised she had not thought of it.

  ‘Oh, no! I didn’t think there would be time to do anything, so everything is packed away in my
case.’

  ‘Fetch it for her, would you, please, Sam?’ Luca said pleasantly, but the look he gave Beth was piercing. ‘You can get a lot done in only half an hour, if you put your mind to it.’

  ‘I know. That’s why I’m going to start the moment I get my books.’ Beth tried to sound professional, but she was kicking herself for making such an error.

  His answering smile made sure she wouldn’t make such a mistake again.

  Beth kept her eyes on her books but her mind was always a couple of metres away, totally focussed on Luca. His presence meant everything to her. She was desperately conscious of the effect he was having on her body, even when he was busy with his work. Although he was miles away, lost in his correspondence, she was liquid with the nearness of him. They were surrounded by all this luxury, and with the temptation of a bedroom almost within reach—yet Luca had never felt further away.

  As the plane taxied along the runway Beth felt her heart beat increase. She tried to distract herself by looking out of the window. It did no good. Nothing could ever stop her wanting Luca. The one thing she desired so much her body ached with need was the single thing he held in his power to deny her, now and for ever.

  The jet lifted off, but her heart remained painfully grounded.

  A glossy limousine was waiting for them at the airport. Beth expected it to be a hire car, so when Luca greeted the chauffeur by name she was astonished.

  ‘Is this man employed by FFA too?’ she asked as they were swept towards the city.

  ‘He works for me, yes.’ Luca leaned back with the slightly bored air of a regular traveller. ‘I own the apartment in Paris, and as I lead such a busy life it’s easier to keep it permanently staffed. I often pop over here for a few days, and it means I can walk in and out without putting Andria to the trouble of making fresh hotel arrangements each time.’