The Change in Di Navarra's Plan

by Lynn Raye Harris

  She might bristle like a porcupine, but he couldn’t help noticing that she’d shivered and blushed when he’d touched her. And that it seemed to infuriate her that she had.

  When he’d backed her against the terrace wall and put his hand on her cheek, he’d had every intention of kissing her even though he knew he should not. He’d never yet committed the sin of making love to a personal assistant, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to cross that line now. But he had wanted to taste her. Just for an instant.

  He still wasn’t certain why. Faith Black was not a gorgeous model, but she had some indefinable quality about her that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. She was strong, but also vulnerable. She’d experienced pain in her life, but that pain hadn’t defeated her. He’d seen it in her eyes when Lissa had made those hurtful comments. He’d wanted to defend her, but she hadn’t needed defending.

  “I have not forgotten that you did not answer me about Italy,” he said into the silence.

  The interior of the car was dark, other than the lights from the street that shone inside as they drove back toward Brooklyn. One of Faith’s earrings caught the light as she turned her head toward him.

  “I’ve been thinking about it,” she said.

  “And what have you been thinking?”

  “You didn’t tell me how it would work once I got there. Where would I live? Would I need a car? I haven’t driven in years, and I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable relearning that skill in a foreign country. It’s not that I can’t drive,” she hurried on, “but since I’ve lived in New York, it’s been unnecessary.”

  She sounded somewhat breathless, he noted, as if she were nervous and trying to hide it. Interesting.

  “I have a very large house, cara. You would stay with me. And there is no need to drive, as you will travel with me wherever I go.”

  Wherever he went? Renzo surprised himself with the statement, but si, it made the most sense. How could she organize his appointments if she did not accompany him?

  “I’m not sure I could do that,” she said very quietly.

  “Why not?” He sounded perplexed. Because he was perplexed.

  “Because at least I have weekends off now. I have my own life, you know. It does not revolve around you twenty-four hours a day. And it sounds like it would in Italy.”

  A sudden thought occurred to him. Perhaps it should have occurred to him before, but the simple fact was that it hadn’t. “Do you have a boyfriend, Faith? Someone you do not wish to leave behind?”

  He knew what he wanted the answer to be, but he had no idea what she would say. If she would ruin his good mood by giving him a different answer than he desired.

  “No, no boyfriend,” she said.

  A sliver of relief slid through him at her soft words. Not that he cared if she had a boyfriend, of course. But it would make it much easier if she did not.

  “Any pets?”

  “No. No pets. I had a cat, but he died last year.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged, as if she were trying to say it was nothing. And yet he wasn’t fooled. He could hear the sadness in her voice. “It’s fine. He was old and it was his time. I wanted to get a kitten, but they need so much attention. Well, any cat does, really, and I work a lot so…”

  Her voice trailed off and he found himself feeling somewhat guilty, as if he was at fault because she hadn’t gotten another cat. He did work long hours, and sometimes she stayed behind, too, not leaving the office until after seven or eight in the evening.

  No, a cat would not like that. Neither would a boyfriend.

  She shrugged again. “I’m sorry. You didn’t really want to know all that. I’m babbling.”

  “I’ve never heard you babble, Faith. I would hardly classify this as babbling.” He knew babbling. Katie had been a babbler. He’d found it somewhat annoying that she couldn’t ever stop talking, but he’d tried to keep her mouth too occupied to talk whenever they were together.

  Renzo frowned. What had he ever seen in Katie? Besides the perfect body, of course? She’d been so shallow, so self-absorbed. Why had he surrounded himself with that?

  “Well, I’m babbling now. My mom would say I—”

  He heard her indrawn breath. “Would say what?” he prodded when she didn’t continue.

  “Nothing. It’s nothing.” She’d folded her hands on her lap again, and he found himself wanting to take one of her soft hands in his and rub circles in her palm the way he’d done before. Just to feel that tremor slide through her.

  “You can tell me,” he said.

  “I’d rather not.”

  She sounded so prim, so controlled. It made him wonder. How had she worked for him for six months and he didn’t know anything about her? She didn’t seem to want to talk about her past. And though he wanted to command her to tell him what she’d been about to say, he could hardly do so. It wasn’t like he enjoyed talking about his past—his family—either.

  His mother was a good woman who’d worked hard all her life, but he was still somewhat embarrassed by his origins. He shouldn’t be, but he was. Not because of her, but because of the Conte de Lucano. From the moment he’d learned who his father was when he was eight years old, the one time the man had come to see them and threatened his mother if she dared tell anyone who had fathered her child, he’d felt inferior. Damaged. Like garbage tossed on a scrap heap.

  For all he knew, Faith felt the same. “You do not like talking about your family,” he said.

  She sighed. “No, I don’t like talking about them. I left years ago and I’m never going back.”

  It was the closest thing to a vow he’d ever heard her utter. She said it with such conviction. Such bitterness.

  Such passion.

  Renzo felt a jolt of awareness curl through him. Male­dizione, was he mad? She was his PA, and though he didn’t quite understand where this sudden attraction to her sprang from, she was most definitely off-limits. She had to be. He needed to concentrate on the Viper, and he needed his efficient PA at his side, taking care of the business side of his life while he rode the hell out of the motorcycle and worked on the adjustments to the design. If he crossed the line with her, he could endanger everything—in so much as she might leave and he’d have to train a new PA when he did not have the time.

  No, Renzo could not afford to endanger anything right now when time was critical. When Niccolo Gavretti was just waiting to find a weakness he could exploit in his quest to destroy Renzo and D’Angeli Motors. He should have crushed Niccolo when he’d had the chance, but he’d been sentimental. Idiot.

  “I don’t suppose you care to tell me why,” he said, more than a little curious about what could make quiet, calm Faith Black run away from home.

  Her head moved, the lights shining off her golden hair as she shook it. “Some families don’t get along,” she said. “Let’s just leave it at that.”

  He could only stare. He’d thought her sweet, harmless, and here she was made of steel and wrapped in velvet. Faith did not speak to her family. It was a revelation, and he burned with curiosity as to why. He spoke to his mother and sister regularly, couldn’t imagine not speaking to them. But here was this quiet girl telling him with such vehemence that she’d cut herself off from everyone in her life.

  It stunned him. This was a woman with unsuspected depths. A woman who’d worked for him for six months, and he’d never once realized there was more to her than the face she presented him with every day.

  The car pulled to a stop in front of her apartment building. He thought she might make a dash for it, but she waited for Stefan to come around and open the door. Renzo stepped out onto the pavement, his leg throbbing so badly now that he knew he would need a pain pill when he got home. At least, mercifully, the damn thing would make him sleep.

  “You don’t have
to see me up,” Faith said as he started toward the building door.

  He turned toward her, saw the worry lines bracketing her mouth, and knew that she’d seen through him. For some reason, that made him angry.

  “I do,” he said shortly, his tone brooking no argument. A part of him was saying he was a fool, but the other part—the prideful, stubborn part—insisted he could still do any damn thing he wanted to do. It was simply an issue of mind over matter. If he couldn’t conquer the little things, like stairs, how could he conquer the big things, like riding the Viper on the Grand Prix circuit?

  Faith turned away in a huff and walked to the door. He followed her. She used her key to get inside the building, and then they were moving toward the stairs. She took her time, saying her high heels were bothering her, but he suspected she did it for him.

  His leg cramped as he climbed the two flights, but then they were in the hall and standing before her door. Pain spiked into his leg then, radiating through his entire body so that he leaned against the wall, certain he wouldn’t be moving for at least five minutes. Per Dio.

  Faith unlocked her door and turned, a little gasp escaping her when she saw him standing there. “Renzo? Are you okay?”

  “Si, of course,” he said, but his voice sounded as if he were gritting his teeth. Which he was, he realized a moment later.

  Faith didn’t hesitate. She looped her arm in his. “Come in and sit down. Let me massage it for you.”

  Now why, in the midst of his pain, did that thought make his libido kick into gear?

  “I’ll be fine in a few moments. Just let me stand here.” It wasn’t an admission he’d wanted to make, but he wasn’t so stubborn as to deny the truth when she could clearly see it.

  She frowned up at him. “I had a roommate who was a massage therapist, and she taught me some things. I’m not a professional, but I can try to ease the cramp.”

  “It will go away in a moment.”

  Her expression said she didn’t believe it for a minute. “I can massage it or you can stand here. Whichever you prefer. But know this. My feet hurt and I’m going inside and sitting down, with or without you.”

  He swore softly in Italian, but he let her help him into the cramped living space of her apartment. He didn’t even bother trying to hide the limp this time. What was the point?

  She eased him down on her sofa and then hastily moved magazines from her coffee table before bending to pick his foot up and prop it on the table. Renzo leaned his head back and closed his eyes as pain throbbed into his body.

  “You shouldn’t have stood on it so long tonight,” Faith said.

  “This rarely happens,” he replied automatically, though it was a lie. In truth it happened too often of late. And what if it happened on the track? He’d been asking himself that for months now. The consequences could be disastrous. He knew what it was like to wipe out at two hundred miles an hour. Knew how lucky he’d been to wake up from the accident with pins in his leg and his head intact.

  “Yes, well, you should still think of it and take opportunities to rest the leg when you can.” Faith sank down onto the couch beside him, her body pressing against his as she leaned over him and put her small hands on his thigh.

  Renzo swallowed. Hard. He was in pain, yes, but he wasn’t dead. His body wanted to respond to the feel of her hands pressing into him, but he refused to allow it. His senses were filled with her—with the sweet scent of her, the tactile pressure of her hands on his body, the sound of her breath and her voice. With his eyes closed, he didn’t have to ask himself what it was about her. He could feel what it was, though he’d be damned if he could name it.

  “The muscles are so tight,” she said. “It would be much better if you took your pants off.”

  Renzo couldn’t help but laugh, though the sound was nothing like his usual laugh. He wasn’t quite sure if it was strained from the pain of his leg or the pain of fighting with himself not to reach for her. “Cara, you surprise me.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” she said, sounding all prickly and cool.

  Renzo opened his eyes. She was looking at his leg, concentrating on massaging it, but a red flush had spread over her cheeks. Her face in profile was lovelier than he’d imagined. He couldn’t stop himself from lifting his hand. From sliding his finger across her soft cheek.

  “And yet I could almost wish you did,” he said, and her head came up, her green eyes so wide and innocent. Innocent? He wasn’t sure where he’d gotten that

  thought from.

  “Are you flirting with me, Mr. D’Angeli?”

  “Not if you prefer I didn’t,” he told her truthfully, disappointed that she’d retreated behind formality once more.

  Her gaze dropped again. Her fingers kneaded his knotted muscles. It hurt, and yet he knew she was loosening them at the same time.

  “That is exactly what I prefer,” she said. “You are charming, but your charm is misdirected on me.”

  His brows drew together. She was bent over him, her head bowed, her cleavage frustratingly covered—and yet he would have sworn she felt the spark between them, too.

  “Is it?” he asked, aggravated that she was so distant and formal.

  “The last thing you need is another woman puffing up your already-outrageous ego,” she stated firmly. “So, if you don’t mind, while I am certain you could charm the panties off a nun, I’d prefer if you didn’t attempt it on me.”

  Her heart thudded in her ears. Faith couldn’t believe she’d actually said that to him. She was not unaffected by his male beauty, no matter how she protested otherwise. But he didn’t need to know that, did he?

  Except he wasn’t a stupid man. When he’d touched her, she’d felt the blush bloom across her cheeks. Surely he’d seen it. Just as he’d no doubt heard the breathy note in her voice when she’d asked if he was flirting with her.

  She’d denied she was affected, but it was a lie. What living, breathing woman wouldn’t be attracted to this man?

  Faith wanted to snort in disgust. Really, she should be the woman who wasn’t because she’d watched him go through at least five girlfriends since she’d worked for him. Not only that, but she’d also seen the tabloid reports on his notorious love-them-and-leave-them lifestyle. How could she ever find a man like him attractive?

  And yet she did.

  “I don’t believe I’ve ever charmed a nun,” he said, his voice containing a hint of steel beneath the silk. “I only charm those who wish to be charmed.”

  “Then I’ll consider myself safe.” The tops of her ears burned.

  “For now,” he said.

  Faith tried to concentrate on the ropes of muscle beneath her hands. It would be so much easier if she could touch his skin instead of his trousers, but this was definitely safer. Seeing his body, touching his skin—it made curls of heat sizzle into her just thinking of it. Even now, though there was fabric between her skin and his, it wasn’t quite enough to block the sensuality of touching him.

  Concentrate.

  Faith pressed her thumbs into the muscle and worked at the knots. She wasn’t a true massage therapist, but she’d thought she could help him by using a couple of the things that Elaine had taught her before moving back to Ohio.

  What else could she do? She couldn’t let him stand out there in the hall, and she couldn’t let him go back downstairs when he was in such pain.

  “Should I go down and tell Stefan what’s happened?” she asked, suddenly remembering the uniformed man they’d left on the street.

  “I’ll call.” Renzo took his phone out of his pocket.

  “He can come up, if you like.”

  Renzo’s eyes were flat. “No, that is not necessary.”

  Faith supposed Stefan was quite used to waiting outside women’s apartments. The thought did not cheer her. Would th
e man think his boss was up here getting cozy with her? Did she care?

  Renzo made the call, told Stefan to go home while Faith tried not to swallow her tongue, and then hung up and gave her an even look.

  “Don’t look so worried,” he told her. “I’ll take a taxi home.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek and told herself it didn’t matter if Stefan thought Renzo was spending the night with her. It was getting late and Stefan would want to return home, so it was kind of Renzo not to make him wait.

  “Is this helping at all?” she asked, still pressing her thumbs into his thigh muscle.

  “Si, I think so.”

  “How long has this been going on, Mr. D’Angeli?”

  His icy blue eyes glittered. “I refuse to discuss this with you unless you call me Renzo.”

  Faith’s cheeks heated. “I had thought it best if we go back to the way things were before the party tonight.”

  Because she needed to put distance between them. She needed to remember that he was her boss, and not a man she could ever know more personally.

  “And I disagree. If you wish to know about my leg, Faith, you will address me the way I have asked you to. It seems a bit ridiculous to call me Mr. D’Angeli considering where your hands are, yes?”

  She barely resisted the urge to pinch him. “If this were a spa, I highly doubt you’d be asking the technician to call you Renzo.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Depends on how attractive she was, I imagine.”

  “You’re incorrigible,” she said.

  “And possessed of an outrageous ego, I understand.”

  Faith couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh dear. I’m sorry I said that.” It might be true, but she shouldn’t have said it. One evening pretending to be his date didn’t give her a license to insult him. He was still her boss when everything was said and done.

  “You aren’t sorry at all. And I don’t mind.” He shrugged. “Perhaps it is true.”

  “Will you tell me about your leg now?”