‘It’s … my letter of resignation.’
He said nothing as he slit the envelope, withdrew its contents and read the two lines she had written, but his silence simmered with anger that was reflected in his steely grey eyes.
‘I think it’s best if I leave straight away,’ Rebekah mumbled. She dared not spend another night under Dante’s roof, not if there was a chance she might spend it in his bed. If he tried to persuade her, she was not at all sure she would be able to resist him. The problem was, she did not actually have anywhere to go. Before Dante had walked in she had been searching through the property listings on her laptop. Luckily she had saved quite a bit of money while she had worked for him and she had enough to pay a deposit on a flat, but she would have to find another job quickly so that she could afford the rent.
‘Why?’
The single terse word exploded from him like a gunshot and made her jump. Dante made a slashing movement with his hand. His expression was furious, his eyes blazing, and he suddenly looked much more hot-blooded Italian than cool English lawyer. ‘Why do you want to leave?’
‘Last night was great,’ she said stiffly. ‘But it was just a … a one-night stand, and now it’s time for me to move on.’
Dante stared at her, not quite able to believe what he was hearing. It was true he’d had his fair share of one-night stands but they had always been his choice. He was used to calling the shots in his relationships and he did not like the feeling that he was powerless in this situation.
He did not want to lose her. The thought slid into his head and he tensed as the implication sank in. You could not lose what you did not have, he reminded himself. Rebekah was not his and he did not want her to be. He did not want a long-term relationship—once had been enough. He simply wanted to explore the wild passion they had shared last night and he was not ready to let her go yet.
‘I don’t understand why you no longer want to work for me,’ he said curtly. ‘Why can’t we just carry on as before?’
As he spoke the words Dante realised the futility of them. He could never go back to thinking of Rebekah as a member of his staff when he had seen her naked body in all its voluptuous glory.
His eyes narrowed on her flushed face, and once again he was struck by how lovely she was. The way she scraped her hair back in a severe style only emphasised the perfect symmetry of her face and the porcelain smoothness of her complexion. Few women could get away without wearing make-up, but Rebekah’s beauty was fresh and natural. The way she had responded to him last night had revealed an earthy sensuality that Dante found utterly addictive. Making love to her had whetted his appetite and he had been looking forward to having her fill the dual roles of his mistress and cook for—well, he had not even thought about a timescale; he’d simply assumed that she would stay with him until their passion burned out.
But apparently Rebekah was prepared to walk away from him. He could not deny a feeling of pique. It had never happened before. He wondered if she was hoping he would try to persuade her to stay, even beg her. His mouth twisted in a grim smile. She would soon learn that he did not throw himself on the mercy of anyone. One thing his marriage had taught him was that only a fool allowed his emotions to get involved.
‘I think we both realise it would be impossible for me to continue working for you,’ she said quietly, voicing his thoughts.
He shrugged. ‘So what are your plans?’
If she was disappointed that he made no attempt to dissuade her from leaving, she did not show it. ‘I have a few things in the pipeline,’ Rebekah told him. ‘There’s a possible opportunity for me to work for Gaspard Clavier at his new restaurant in St Lucia.’
Dante’s frown deepened. ‘So that’s what he was talking to you about at the party. But Gaspard told me the restaurant won’t be ready to open for a few months. He’s a friend of mine, and in fact I represented him in his recent divorce from the young Russian wife he had ill-advisedly married. Despite the fact that the marriage only lasted for two years, Olga claimed an exorbitant settlement. Fortunately I managed to keep the bulk of Gaspard’s fortune intact, for which he was extremely grateful.’
Rebekah hated his coldly cynical tone. In his profession Dante saw some of the worst examples of human behaviour, which probably explained his attitude towards marriage and relationships, she acknowledged ruefully.
‘Presumably you haven’t found anywhere to live yet?’ he continued, glancing at the laptop screen which displayed properties to rent.
‘I’m going to ring an estate agent and hopefully view a place this afternoon.’ Rebekah spoke with a confidence she did not feel. Even if she found a flat it was unlikely she would be able to move in today. She prayed that her friend Charlie, who she had met when she had worked for the catering company, would allow her to stay with him for a few nights.
Dante folded the letter and slipped it into his trouser pocket. ‘I accept your resignation—but you seem to have forgotten something. Under the terms of the contract you signed when you accepted the job as my chef you are required to give one month’s notice before you can leave.’
Rebekah gave him a startled glance. ‘Well, yes, technically I suppose that’s true. But surely, under the circumstances …’
‘I have no problem with the circumstances,’ he said coolly. ‘It will be impossible for me to find a replacement cook in a few days and I demand you will work your full amount of notice—or I will sue you for breach of contract. Not only that,’ he continued, ignoring her shocked gasp, ‘but I will refuse to give you a reference. I know you left your previous job without a reference and I imagine it will be difficult for you to find another job when neither of your previous employers will vouch for you.’
He paused to allow all this to sink in and then delivered the final blow. ‘If you walk out on me I will advise Gaspard Clavier that you are an unreliable employee, and he may well reconsider his job offer.’
Rebekah felt sick. She guessed it was possible Dante could sue her if she did not fulfil the terms of her contract. He knew far more about the law than she did. But more worrying than the legal implications if she left her job without working her notice was the realisation that he could ruin her career. He was a hugely influential figure and if he spread the word among his rich friends, including Gaspard Clavier, that she was unreliable, she would struggle to find anyone to employ her. An unreliable chef was a restaurant owner’s worst nightmare and no one would risk taking her on without references.
‘I thought you would be glad for me to leave without any fuss,’ she said slowly, puzzled by his determination that she should stay.
‘Why would I want you to go when you’re a superb cook and an exciting lover?’
His arrogant drawl brought a flush of angry colour to her cheeks. ‘If you insist on me working my notice, cooking is the only thing I’ll do for you. Sleeping with you was a one-off event, and to be honest it was a mistake I now regret. I must have been more affected by the alcohol in the fruit punch than I realised last night.’
‘You could be very bad for my ego if I believed that was true,’ Dante said in an amused voice. ‘But you weren’t drunk; you knew exactly what you were doing. And, what’s more, you want to do it again.’
‘The devil I do!’ Furiously Rebekah attempted to push past him, but to her shame she felt a flare of excitement when he snaked an arm around her waist and jerked her against him. ‘Dante, let go of me—I mean it …’
He stilled her angry words by bringing his mouth down on hers and kissing her with barely suppressed savagery, grinding his lips hard against the tremulous softness of hers until she gave a low moan. Sensing her capitulation, Dante slid his hand down to her bottom and forced her pelvis into sizzling contact with his fiercely aroused body. His other hand moved to her hair and he pulled the pins from it so that it fell in a curtain of rich brown silk around her shoulders.
The evocative sensation of Dante running his fingers through her hair was too much—he was too much—an
d, although Rebekah hated herself for her weakness, she could not fight him. Helpless in the face of his passionate onslaught, she parted her lips and he deepened the kiss so that it became intensely erotic. Her body recognized its master. He had given her the most pleasurable experience of her life the previous night and revealed a level of sensuality she had not known she possessed. Her breasts felt heavy and ached for his touch, and the flood of moist heat between her legs was a damning indictment of the sexual desire coursing through her veins.
When he finally released her, she swayed on legs that felt as if they would not support her and stared at him wordlessly as she explored the swollen softness of her lips with the tip of her tongue.
‘That certainly proved something, didn’t it?’ Dante taunted her ruthlessly, ignoring the curious tug in his gut when he saw her stricken expression. ‘A word of advice—if you don’t want to be kissed, say it like you mean it. Otherwise the coming month that we’re going to be spending together in Tuscany could get very tedious.’
‘Tuscany?’ Rebekah queried shakily.
‘It’s written in your contract that I might occasionally want you to accompany me to Italy and carry out your duties as my cook at my home near Siena. I intend to spend the whole of July in Tuscany—’ he paused and gave her a glittering look ‘—and I will require your services.’
He made her sound like a hooker, Rebekah thought furiously. She welcomed her spurt of temper. Anything was better than the numb sense of shame she had felt after the way she had responded to him.
‘I don’t want to go with you. You can’t make me.’
He shrugged. ‘No. But if you refuse, I can, as I have already mentioned, make it difficult for you to find another job.’
How on earth had she fooled herself into thinking he had a softer side? She must have imagined the element of tenderness she’d thought she had sensed when he had made love to her last night. Had sex with her, she amended. There had been nothing loving about it. She was infuriated by his arrogance and more than anything she wished she could tell him to go to hell.
But the stark truth was that she had no choice but to honour the terms of her contract. She would have to accompany him to Tuscany if she was to have any hope of finding a job in the future, Rebekah acknowledged heavily. She did not want to risk Dante ruining her chance of working for Gaspard Clavier.
She lifted her chin and said with cool dignity, ‘Very well, I will work out my month’s notice in Tuscany. But I want to make it clear that I will go there on a strictly professional basis as your chef.’
‘Is that so?’ Dante reached out and idly wound a strand of her long hair around his finger, but his indolent air was deceptive and the feral gleam in his eyes sent a frisson of nervous excitement down her spine.
Before she could guess his intention, he gripped the hem of her shirt and whipped it over her head.
‘How dare you?’ Breathing hard, her temper boiling over, Rebekah’s hand flew to his face. But he caught her wrist before she could strike him and held her firmly while he moved his other hand behind her and deftly unfastened her bra so that her breasts spilled free.
‘You are gorgeous.’
Dante’s voice dropped to a husky growl that caused the tiny hairs on Rebekah’s body to stand on end. She realised as she watched the sudden flare of colour on his cheekbones that he was no more in control of the situation than she was. And somehow that made her feel better, made her less ashamed of her attraction to him, because although she hated herself for her weakness she could not deny her longing for him to make love to her again.
He stroked her nipples and rolled them between his fingers until they hardened and tingled. ‘Stop fighting me, mia bellezza, and let me make love to you,’ he murmured, his breath warm on her skin, his tongue darting out to lick one tight bud so that it swelled in urgent response.
A quiver of anticipation ran through Rebekah. But, as Dante trailed a line of kisses along her collarbone, she was conscious of a different, altogether more unpleasant sensation in the pit of her stomach. She knew the headache she’d woken with was her body’s reaction to the alcohol she had unwittingly consumed at the party, and now a feeling of nausea swept over her.
‘Dante …’ she muttered, turning her head away as he was about to claim her mouth.
‘No more games, cara.’ He did not try to hide his impatience.
‘I’m not playing games,’ she gasped, fighting the churning sensation inside her. ‘I’m going to be sick.’
With a strength born of desperation, she pulled out of his arms and flew out of the kitchen and down the stairs to her apartment on the basement level.
Ten minutes later, she emerged from her bathroom to find Dante sitting on the end of her bed.
‘That’s not the reaction I usually get from women,’ he said drily.
‘Please go away.’ A glance in the mirror told her she looked even worse than she felt and the knowledge compounded her humiliation. She was just thankful she had pulled her dressing gown around her half-naked body.
Dante stood up from the bed as she sank weakly onto it, but he remained in the room, looking unfairly gorgeous with a shadow of dark stubble shading his jaw and his hair falling onto his brow. His eyes narrowed on her white face and there was a faint note of concern in his voice.
‘Are you ill?’
Rebekah shook her head wearily. ‘No, I just react badly to alcohol, even small amounts. I wasn’t drunk last night.’ She flushed as she recalled how Dante had insisted she had known exactly what she was doing when she had slept with him. ‘But my body sometimes reacts badly to alcohol, and I’ll continue being sick until all traces of it have gone.’
She had barely finished speaking when another wave of nausea sent her running back into the en suite bathroom. It was so unglamorous—she couldn’t imagine what Dante must think of her. On the plus side, she thought as the sickness finally passed and she splashed her face with cold water, she had probably killed his desire for her stone-dead. Surely he wasn’t seriously expecting her to go to Tuscany with him?
When she staggered back to the bedroom she saw that he had placed a jug of water by the bed and drawn back the covers.
‘You had better try and sleep it off. How long do you think it will be before the sickness passes and you can travel?’
‘I expect I’ll be fine in twenty-four hours,’ she admitted wearily.
Dante unearthed her nightdress from beneath her pillow and handed it to her. ‘Come on, get into bed,’ he urged, frowning when she simply stood there.
‘I’ll get changed once you’ve gone,’ she muttered, faint colour stealing into her white face.
‘It’s a bit late now for modesty,’ he said drily, but he turned around and she quickly slipped off her dressing gown and trousers and pulled the nightgown over her head.
‘Can I get you anything? Something to eat, perhaps?’ he asked, walking back over to the bed.
Rebekah grimaced as the queasy sensation returned when she lay down. ‘Not in this lifetime,’ she said with feeling.
‘Poor cara.’
She tensed as Dante drew the bedcovers over her. The unexpected note of tenderness in his voice was the last straw. She hadn’t expected him to be kind. She felt weak and wobbly and silly tears filled her eyes. The prospect of spending a month in Tuscany with him filled her with foreboding. How would she cope with her infatuation with him, especially now that she knew he was every bit the dream lover of her fantasies? Of course she did not have to sleep with him, her common sense pointed out. He couldn’t force her to. But the shameful truth was that he would not need to. He only had to kiss her and she turned to putty in his arms.
‘Please don’t insist on me working out my notice,’ she said tensely. ‘There must be hundreds of women who would be willing to go to Tuscany with you. I’ll forgo my last month’s wages if you agree to let me go now. I really want to concentrate on finishing the cookery book of my grandmother’s recipes, and I need to find a photog
rapher who will take pictures for it.’
‘That’s not a problem. A friend of mine who lives in Siena is a photographer. I’m sure Nicole will be happy to work on the book with you.’
Was Nicole one of his mistresses? Angrily, Rebekah pushed the thought away. She could not see a way out of spending the next month in Italy with Dante and, with a heavy sigh, she flopped back against the pillows.
‘What are you afraid of?’ he asked gently.
Startled, her eyes flew open. ‘I’m not afraid of anything,’ she lied.
‘I think you are. I think you’re terrified of lowering your guard and allowing anyone to get close to you.’ He recognized the barriers she put up because for years he had put up his own, and he had no intention of taking them down, Dante brooded.
Rebekah refused to admit that Dante’s words were too close to the truth for comfort. Instead she turned onto her side and burrowed under the covers. ‘I’m really very tired,’ she muttered. He continued to stand by the bed for a few moments, but then he moved, and only when she heard the click of her door being closed did she realise she had been holding her breath.
CHAPTER SIX
THEY flew to Tuscany two days later. Rebekah’s stomach still felt delicate and she had been dreading hanging around at the airport waiting for a commercial flight. The discovery that they were to travel by private jet was a shock but not an unwelcome one.
‘I can’t believe you own a plane,’ she said as she followed Dante up the steps of his jet and looked around the cabin at the plush leather sofas, widescreen television and polished walnut drinks cabinet. The plane’s interior looked more like a small but expensively furnished sitting room. This was the first time she had really appreciated that he was immensely wealthy. He came from a different world to a Welsh farmer’s daughter, she thought wryly.
‘It’s the family plane,’ he explained as he sat down next to her. ‘My father uses it mainly to fly between the Jarrell estate in Norfolk and his chateau in southern France. He keeps a mistress at both places and shares his time between them.’
At Dante's Service Page 7