by Joan Kilby
“Don’t be so sure about that…” Tina went into an adjoining office and came back with her purse, a Birkin bag. From it she withdrew a pair of dark purple velvet handcuffs. “You can use these on him.”
“Oh. My. God.” Layla burst out laughing. “Let me get this straight. You want me to kidnap your brother and bring him to my villa with the implied promise of sex. I take him into my bedroom and handcuff him to the bed. Instead of a romp in the sack with me, you three enter and force him to listen to your grievances.” She shook her head, incredulous. “He would be totally pissed. Are you all insane?”
“Yes, but please do it,” Angela begged, reaching for Layla’s hands. “We’re desperate.”
“It’s not just for us, it’s for Giorgio, too,” Francesca said. “We want what’s best for him.”
“Isn’t he the best judge of that?” Layla asked.
“No!” Tina, Angela and Francesca shouted together.
“He’s lost his way,” Tina added more quietly. “Think of it as a makeover for him. You could help turn Giorgio from a controlling workaholic into the warm-hearted, life-loving man he used to be. The man he still is, deep down inside.”
“That would be some makeover.” Layla paced away. This whole plot was nuts. She would be crazy to go along with it. A man as powerful as Giorgio would be a formidable enemy. If she got on his bad side, poof, there went any hope not only of a contract with the House of Borlenghi but any other fashion house in Italy, or even Europe.
Except that she was feeling desperate, too.
She walked back to Tina. “Tell me one thing. Are you seriously interested in signing me to your atelier or are you only using me to manipulate your brother?”
“I want to sign you, cross my heart,” Tina said, sketching the swift motion. “I don’t want to manipulate Gino. I want him to listen to reason.”
“How would I even go about asking him?”
“After we finish here I’ll take you to his office,” Tina said. “His PA, Anna, will let you in to see him.”
Layla looked from Tina to Angela to Francesca. They were all waiting for her decision with hopeful, earnest faces. They wanted this for their brother very badly. It was sweet. She would never be able to do her brother Tom any favors ever again, except to remember him always. And she had no sisters. No other family. Maybe she was being foolishly sentimental, but she liked these women.
Not to forget the very real chance to determine the future of her career. Kids’ pajamas versus designer lingerie. No brainer.
“What the hell.” Layla threw up her hands. “I’ll give it a shot.”
Paparazzi lurked in the shadows wherever Giorgio went. When he stepped out of his limousine in front of the Borlenghi building in the central business district that morning, a handful of photographers and journalists surged toward him asking questions about what the global expansion of Borlenghi Group would mean to his corporation, and what it would mean to him personally.
One reporter called out, “What would your father think if he were alive?”
Giorgio’s burley driver cum bodyguard muscled his way through the throng into the building. Giorgio followed, head down, hand raised. “No comment.”
He knew unequivocally what his father would think. He would be proud of Giorgio for keeping the company Italian-only. His brother Leo would be proud of him for growing the business. Knowing that was what kept him going most days.
Leaving the driver stationed in the lobby, he rode his personal elevator to the top floor, straight to his office. He threw his jacket on the back of his chair and pressed the intercom to summon his personal assistant.
“Anna, come to my office, please.” He paced while he waited.
Anna knocked once and entered, carrying her laptop and a cup of coffee—milk, no sugar—that she deposited on his desk. Sixty-two years old, her hair was dyed a rich auburn and her clothes were modern but tasteful. Like so many things in his life, she was a legacy of his father, and he could never let her go.
He pulled up his leather chair to his desk and took a sip of coffee. “I want to finalize our response to Chang Lee’s stipulations for the Borlenghi expansion into China. Were you able to schedule a conference call with him?”
Anna scrolled through the daily calendar on her iPad. “Three o’clock this afternoon.” She studied him, concern in her mild brown gaze. “Are you well, Signor? You look tired.”
She’d known him as a boy and at times still treated him as such. For his father’s sake, he tolerated it. “I’m fine.”
The truth was, he’d spent another sleepless night tormented by thoughts and images of Layla. His lack of success in keeping Layla away from her meeting with Tina frustrated him as much as his obsession with her. Mio Dio, what a mouth she had! So lush and hot he’d wanted to devour her. Her eyes were as blue as the Mediterranean and deep enough to drown a man.
Worst of all, she’d prodded him where it hurt when she’d said he was incapable of pleasure. Once upon a time, when he was young and carefree, he’d been wild and full of the joy of life. Now he was the head of the company and of the family. He had too many responsibilities to give in to frivolity.
Impatiently, he forced himself to focus. He opened his briefcase and began unloading documents he’d reviewed after leaving the party last night. “I’ve marked passages on the contract for discussion. I’d like you to put together background notes for each point.”
“Yes, sir.” Anna handed over a file. “These require your signature by Monday.”
Giorgio riffled through the papers and glanced at his watch. At this very moment Layla might be meeting with Tina. Would his sister dare go against his word and give her a contract? Tina and the others didn’t seem to understand that he had no choice; he had to do what was best for the company. He’d long ago accepted that he was as much a servant of the Borlenghi Group as he was the leader. He’d made sacrifices for his role and wore them as a badge of honor.
He tossed down the file folder. But was this all there was to life? The mountain of papers on his desk never diminished no matter how hard or how long he worked.
Restless and impatient, he pushed back his chair and stalked to the floor-to-ceiling window and gazed down at the stream of traffic and pedestrians flowing past far below. “What do you do for pleasure, Anna?”
She stopped typing and a frown appeared between her pencil-thin eyebrows. “Signor Borlenghi, are you sure you’re feeling well? You don’t seem yourself this morning.”
He paced away from the window. The truth was, he was all churned up inside. He stopped in front of a framed photograph of himself and Rocco, the captain of Naples football team. He owned the team after rescuing it from bankruptcy, yet he hadn’t gone to a single game in three years.
“I’m serious, Anna. Do you go to plays or concerts? The art gallery? Perhaps a trip to Monte Carlo.”
“Nothing so exciting, Signor. I enjoy a game of cards in the evening with my husband and our neighbors.” Her frown faded and she smiled. “We sit in the courtyard in the shade of the linden tree with a glass of wine.”
“Simple pleasures.” An involuntary sigh escaped him. “I envy you.”
“You envy me? I’ll call your doctor and make an appointment.” Anna started to rise.
“No, no, sit down. I’m just feeling the stress of the negotiations.” Giorgio returned to his desk, pulled his chair in, and picked up the contract. “Let’s go over these passages.”
They’d worked steadily for a couple of hours when the phone rang. He reached for it. “Hello?”
“Signora Layla Langham is here,” Maria, the receptionist said. “She doesn’t have an appointment, but she says she knows you.”
Layla. The memory of his hand on her breast made him grip the phone tighter. He wanted to see her, even if it was only for five minutes. But no. If he allowed her in, she would disrupt his morning. He had no time for distractions of the Layla Langham variety. “Give her my apologies. My schedule is completely full.
”
“Si, Signor—” Maria broke off abruptly. Over the phone he heard a commotion in the outer office with several voices talking at once.
The door burst open. Layla strode in wearing a halter-topped dress that displayed substantial cleavage and a skirt that whirled around her shapely legs. Her glossy, red hair waved around her bare shoulders and a pair of huge sunglasses perched atop her head.
“Hey, Gino. That’s the short form for Giorgio isn’t it?” She gave him a dazzling smile and deposited a black tote on one of the guest chairs. “I’ve decided Giorgio is too formal if we’re going to be friends.”
“Who says we’re friends?” Only his family called him Gino. “What are you doing here?”
“Taking you to lunch.” She turned to Anna with a brilliant smile. “Thank you. That will be all.”
“Signor Borlenghi,” Anna protested. “This is outrageous.”
Yes, it was. He should send Layla packing but…his day had just gotten very interesting. More interesting than any day he’d had in a long time before meeting this woman. “You may go, Anna. Type up those notes for me and forward them to the legal team.”
Anna rose slowly and moved toward the door, still glaring at Layla as she spoke to Giorgio. “Your conference call—”
“I won’t miss it.” Curiosity, that’s all this was. Layla could stay for a few minutes. He wanted to know what she was up to—besides pulling articles of men’s clothing out of her tote and piling them on his desk. “What are these?”
“I brought you some casual clothes. You’re going to need a disguise to get through the paparazzi down there. Have you seen how many reporters there are?”
“I can’t go to lunch. I have an important business call this afternoon.” He picked up a baseball cap with the New York Yankees insignia on it. How did she know he was a fan of the team?
She handed him a button down shirt with a tag still on it. “Get changed. I won’t peek—unless you want me to,” she added with a wink and a cheeky grin. Turning around, she crossed her arms over her chest, head cocked, listening. “What are you waiting for?”
“For you to come to your senses. I can’t just leave.”
“Why, are you in jail here?”
It felt like it sometimes, but it irked to hear her say so. It reminded him that no matter how much control he had over the business, he’d lost control of his personal life. He picked up the shirt and checked the label. Off the shelf but she’d gotten his size right. Lunch, perhaps in the shade of a linden tree… He put the shirt down again. The whole idea was ridiculous.
“Don’t you get time off for good behavior?” She spun and advanced. “When was the last time you spent a day not taking care of business or micromanaging your family? When was the last time you had fun? When was the last time you did something spontaneous?”
Unanswerable questions. He lifted his chin. “I do fun, spontaneous things all the time.”
She stuck a finger at his chest. “Name one and a date.”
He couldn’t. He didn’t have a goddamn courtyard with a linden tree, and he didn’t know his neighbors because on one side lived a British actress who was rarely home. On the other side was the villa Layla rented. He had his mother and sisters but lately their relationship had been strained. Yes, it had been a while since he’d done something fun. So what?
“I don’t have time for frivolity. I’m a businessman, and I have work to do. Speaking of which—” He glanced at his watch.
“You do that a lot, you know, look at the time, as if you’re forever running out of it. Give me the watch. Today you don’t wear it.” Layla reached for his forearm and the gold Rolex that was a gift from his father on his twenty-first birthday, the day he officially became an officer of the company. The day his only brother had died.
Giorgio clamped a hand over her wrist before she could undo the clasp. “You can’t do that.”
“I could if you gave me permission.” Her eyes shone with zealous determination. “Just like you could leave the building if you gave yourself permission. You’re the big boss. If you want to walk out of here with me, you can. I’m free as a bird this afternoon. All yours for as long as you want me.”
Beneath his thumb, Layla’s pulse beat fast, just like his own heartbeat. He held her gaze, as his thoughts flew. Really, what could happen if he did have a quick lunch break?
Plenty, if he missed his call to Chang. He had responsibility and duty to his family and to the company, to all the thousands of employees who worked for the Borlenghi empire. He was the lynchpin. If he slacked off there would be repercussions far down the line.
“Here’s the plan,” Layla said, interrupting his thoughts. “We’ll take your private elevator to the ground floor where I have a taxi waiting. In that getup the paparazzi won’t recognize you. Off we go for a pleasant couple of hours at my place.”
“Why your place? Why not a restaurant?” How did she know all these things—his shirt size, his private elevator?
“I’ve ordered food in.” Slowly, she licked her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. “It’s…comfortable there.”
Was she suggesting what he thought she was suggesting? His pants got a little tighter. It seemed surprising after the way they’d parted last night. Unless she thought she could sleep her way to a contract. If she was willing to try, who was he to say no? Instead of a doctor’s appointment maybe all he needed was an afternoon with Layla Langham.
His jaw firmed, and he tugged his hand out of her light hold. He could never forget that she had an agenda. “Did you meet with Tina this morning? What happened?”
“Nothing yet.” She met his gaze frankly, steadily. “What happens next is up to you.” Then she walked her fingers up his chest and rested a fingertip in the indent in his chin. “Do you want to talk about it at my place?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve said all I’m going to say on the subject.”
She smiled slyly. “Then we’ll have to find some other topic of conversation.”
He tilted his head, studying her. “Knowing I’m so opposed to you working for my sister, why would you want to have lunch with me?”
“You’re hot.” She slid her hand around to the back of his neck and moved closer. Of their own accord, his hands smoothed over her back to the curve of her hips. She leaned up, her lips looking so soft and luscious, not quite brushing his. “Say to hell with work for a few hours,” she breathed. “Say yes to temptation.”
She was playing him and paying him back for his near kiss last night. He knew that, but his tight groin didn’t care. He wanted her. As long as he was kept his wits about him and didn’t fall under her spell, why not have some fun? It was just a small diversion, after all.
He eased away from her embrace and snagged a finger in the knot of his tie to loosen it. “I have to be back by three o’clock.”
“I can’t wait to see your face when you find out what I’ve got in store for you.” Her grin of delight was infectious.
And her apparent pleasure in his company was gratifying even if it was false. He unbuttoned his shirt, shrugged out of the garment, and reached for his belt buckle. “Why go all the way across town when we could ‘eat’ right here?”
“Ooh, you’re so impatient.” Her eyes flared with blue heat as she pushed his hands away. Holding his gaze, she slowly lowered his zipper. Then she stepped away, turned, and smiled over her shoulder. “Get changed. Lunch will be all the better for the anticipation.”
Giorgio had a private dressing room adjoining his office, but he liked the idea of Layla being present while he removed his pants, knowing that any moment, should she choose to, she might walk over, perch on his desk facing him and open her legs…
Hell. He needed to control his thoughts, not allow himself to imagine sex with Layla—at least not until he was in a position to do something about it.
He tugged the jeans on and put on the shirt, leaving the tails out to cover a tell tale bulge. Then he slapped the b
all cap on his head and put on his dark glasses. “I’m ready.”
Turning, she gave him a once over and her face lit with an approving smile. “Very nice. Let’s boogie. But first, take off your watch and lock it away.”
Giorgio balked. He was never without his watch. “I don’t take this off. Only to sleep.”
“And while you make love, I hope.” Her wide mouth curved in a teasing grin. “Or do you time yourself in bed?”
His nostrils flared. Was she mocking him?
She traced her fingertip from his ear, where the blood was rushing, past the ticking muscle in his jaw, to the dimple in his chin. “You are so cute when you’re tense. But I bet you’re a whole lot hotter when you’re relaxed. I’ll let you keep the watch for now, but the moment you look at it again it’s going in my purse for the rest of the day. Capisce?”
“I go for hours at a time without looking at my watch.” He transferred his cell and wallet from his suit trouser pocket to his jeans. Then he reached for the phone to let Anna know he was going out and without thinking, checked his watch.
“I saw that,” Layla said in a singsong voice.
Damn. She was right. He was compulsive about the time. But he had to be. Every minute of his day was accounted for, either with meetings or lunch appointments or work that needed approvals, documents requiring his signature. The sweep second hand moving around the gold face ticked away the seconds of his life. His life? It wasn’t his own. It belonged to the Borlenghi Group of Corporations. He loved his work but sometimes he felt as if he was going to snap.
But he wasn’t taking orders from Layla. He locked gazes with her. “I never go anywhere without this watch. Do you capisce?”
Her will battled his for a couple of long, surprisingly enjoyable seconds. Lunch wasn’t going to be nearly enough time to explore what else Layla and he could find to spar about. But he was still smarting from her comments about his lack of spontaneity. It would serve her right if he turned the tables on her.
And why not? A plan began to form in his mind. At her villa, she’d have the advantage. That wouldn’t do. His first rule in love and business was never to relinquish the upper hand. He simply had to take control of the situation—as he always did.