She shuddered to think it. No doubt he wanted a woman who fawned over his every move, who would feed him ice-cold grapes and fetch his slippers in her teeth were he to desire it. Arrogant, entitled man.
Eventually, the limo stopped in front of an ornate prewar building on Fifth Avenue. A moment later, a uniformed doorman swung the door open and Renzo stepped out before turning and holding out his hand for her. Faith took a deep breath as she gathered her tiny, jeweled purse and tugged her wrap tighter. She thought about refusing his help like she had before, but it was darker now and this was unfamiliar ground. It would not do to land on her face in her finery.
She put her hand in his and let him assist her from the tall SUV. But as her foot hit the pavement, she wobbled in her high heels. She barely had time to lose her balance before Renzo steadied her, a broad hand coming to rest on her waist while the other held her hand firmly.
The hand on her waist seared her. It was like being struck by lightning. They looked at each other for some seconds before he spoke.
“You are full of surprises, Miss Black,” Renzo said softly, his fingers spanning her waist, scorching her through the silk georgette of her gown.
“Shouldn’t you call me Faith?” she asked, her heart thrumming at both the feel of his hand on her body and the way he said she was full of surprises. As if he were pleased.
Oh for God’s sake, stop. She could care less what he thought. Really.
His teeth flashed white in the night. “Of course. Faith. Are you ready to go up? We are expected.”
Faith drew in a deep breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“You forgot something,” he said, his voice sliding across her nerve endings like a shiver.
Faith blinked up at him, struck anew by the symmetrical beauty of his face. How could a man be so gorgeous?
“What did I forget?” she managed to say without turning into a stammering nitwit. She could feel her face flaming, and she wanted to turn and climb straight back into the Escalade. And then she wanted to berate herself for being a ninny.
“As ready as I’ll ever be, Renzo,” he said.
He watched her expectantly, and she realized they weren’t moving until she got it right, no matter how difficult it was for her to think of him as Renzo instead of Mr. D’Angeli. No matter that it was far safer to think of him as Mr. D’Angeli. Far easier to maintain her professionalism that way.
But there was no getting around it. He wasn’t moving, and she didn’t want to stand on the sidewalk all night. She’d been lucky there’d been no paparazzi waiting for him and she didn’t feel like tempting fate any further than she already had.
Not that she was important or her secrets all that earth-shattering —but she’d left her old life behind and she had no wish to revisit the pain and humiliation of it ever again.
She pulled in a breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be, Renzo.”
“Fabuloso,” he said. “Already, you are perfect.”
The Stein’s penthouse apartment was magnificent. It took up two levels at the top of the building, and boasted a terrace planted just like a formal English garden. There were trees, arbors, a profusion of rosebushes and even a carpet of grass. Lights strung around the perimeter had the effect of softly illuminating the area and making one believe they were at a garden party. Central Park stretched out below, a dark inky spot in the night bordered by the bright lights of the Upper West Side across the way. If Faith stood near the edge of the terrace and looked left, she could see the Plaza gleaming white while the red taillights of taxis streamed by on Fifth Avenue.
She rarely came into Manhattan. The D’Angeli Motors factory was on Long Island, and she lived in Brooklyn. At the end of the day, she was too tired to venture into the city. And the weekends were her time to read, watch television and catch up on her laundry and housecleaning. She wasn’t the sort of girl who had time to pop into the Plaza for afternoon tea.
But now, standing here, she almost wished she was. She could afford that much at least. But a place like the Stein’s apartment was another story. This was how the supremely wealthy lived. It was at turns exhilarating and depressing.
She worked long hours to afford what she had and to save up for her own place someday, and other people had manicured grass growing on top of a building in Manhattan. Faith shook her head. Life was very strange sometimes.
She glanced over at Renzo. They’d only been here twenty minutes, and already she felt that her coming had been a waste of time. He did not need her. He stood nearby, chatting with Robert Stein and a group of gentlemen. They were watching him raptly, laughing and agreeing with something he said, and then toasting him with their glasses held high. A moment later, Stein was turning away at an entreaty from his wife, and Renzo turned to look toward where Faith stood near the terrace wall, a glass of wine in her hand.
There was something electric in his gaze, something that shot straight to the deepest heart of her and twisted an emotion out of her. She took a sip of her wine. How very annoying to not be able to control her response to him. To be exactly like every other woman who couldn’t control herself around him.
Except that she could control herself. And she would.
He said something to the men and then he was striding toward her, confident and sure. Until, for the briefest of moments, he seemed to favor his right leg. Faith frowned. A second later, he was moving as gracefully as ever. And yet she was positive he’d been in pain. That was the leg with the pins, the one that had been supposed to end his career several years ago.
“I’m sorry to have left you standing here alone,” he said.
Faith shook her head, frowning at the thought his leg might be bothering him. “Not at all. You came here to talk to Mr. Stein. That should take precedence.”
He tilted his head as he studied her. It disconcerted her until she wanted to drop her lashes and shield her eyes, but she would not shrink from him. It was not the first time tonight he’d looked at her that way. Each time, she felt as if he were dissecting her and viewing the parts individually. As if he weren’t quite certain what to make of her.
Well, she wasn’t certain what to make of herself. What was she doing at a party full of rich people, pretending to be the date of one of the most handsome and dynamic men in the world? No one would believe it for a minute.
She didn’t. She just wanted to be at home, wrapped in her fuzzy robe and reading a book. That was believable.
“You are interesting, Faith,” Renzo said.
She lifted her chin. She would not be flattered by his smooth charm. “Not really. I’m just doing my job.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Is that what you call it?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “I’m here because you asked me to be, plus you offered to pay me. It’s work.”
He looked amused. “And what if I asked you to come to Italy with me? Would you do it?”
Faith swallowed. Italy? She couldn’t pretend that the thought didn’t excite her. She’d never been out of the country before, and she couldn’t imagine a more wonderful place to go. Pasta, pizza, cappuccino. Mmm. It made her mouth water just to think it.
She’d always believed she would be shuffled to another of the company’s officers once Renzo returned to Europe. She still believed it. He couldn’t really be serious. He had another factory in Italy, and another office that was no doubt staffed with an efficient Italian PA.
“That depends,” she said, her throat constricting around the words.
“I need you, Faith. You keep my life together, and I don’t want to live without you.”
Faith could only blink. And then she had to suppress a laugh—because how many women would die to hear Renzo say those words to them? Of course he meant them a very different way, but it was still amusing.
“I wish I had a tape recorder,” she said, and then bit her lip when she realized she’d spoken aloud.
He looked perplexed. “Why is this?”
Faith shrugged, laugh
ing. What was the use in denying it? “Because I could probably sell it many times over. I can think of a handful of women who would pay to hear those words from your lips. And I’m sure there are more trailing in your wake. I could retire early.”
Renzo laughed. “Ah, si, it could be very profitable for you. And yet I hope you will consider my offer to accompany me to Italy.”
“You haven’t made the offer yet,” she said, feeling bold and breathless at the same time.
His smile was turned up full force. “Have I not? Dear Faith, please accompany me to Italy. I will give you a twenty percent raise and cover all your expenses while we are abroad.”
Twenty percent. Faith swallowed. “Well, as wonderful as that is, I think you’ve forgotten something.” Because she had to be honest, no matter how much she might like to leap on the offer.
“And what is that?”
“I don’t speak Italian. I don’t speak anything but English, in fact.”
His smile did not dim. “And yet the international language is English. How do you suppose people in Italy converse with people in Germany? No, this is not an issue. Besides, you will learn Italian while you live there.”
“I—”
“Renzo, darling, there you are,” a cultured female voice called out, interrupting them. “I’ve been looking everywhere.”
Renzo stiffened as he turned toward the owner of the voice. The woman sauntering toward them was a stunning salon-blonde, dressed in a tight-fitting black sheath that showed a mile of tanned leg. Her hair hung long and straight down her back, and her makeup was absolutely perfect. She wore a fat diamond-drop necklace and matching earrings, and her shoes were gold.
“Lissa,” Renzo said. “How nice to see you again.”
Lissa’s gaze fell to Faith and slid over her with no small measure of contempt. The look very clearly said back away.
Oh puh-leeze. As if Faith were any competition. Still, she tilted her chin up and stood her ground.
Lissa turned her smile on Renzo. “Do I not get a kiss, darling? I had thought you Italians were all about the kiss when greeting friends.”
“Of course.” Renzo kissed her on both cheeks in the Italian manner and then turned and put an arm around Faith. Lissa’s eyes narrowed to slits while Faith’s entire body lit up like a firecracker as Renzo pulled her into the curve of his powerful frame.
This was not what she’d agreed to tonight, and yet in a way it had been. She was his date.
“Lissa, this is Faith.”
Faith held her hand out, surprised it didn’t shake when inside she was trembling so badly. Why, when she didn’t even like him all that much?
Lissa took it after a moment’s hesitation. “Very lovely to meet you,” Faith said.
“Yes, lovely.” Lissa’s tone said it was anything but. “Renzo, I had hoped to speak with you. Alone,” she added, her smile never wavering.
Renzo’s fingers skimmed over Faith’s bare arm, his touch setting off a chain of reactions inside her that ended with a sharp current of need settling between her thighs. She’d never felt anything quite like it. And she was furious it was happening now, here, with this man.
Her boss made Casanova look like an amateur, for pity’s sake. She knew it, and yet she responded anyway.
“You may say whatever you wish to say in front of Faith,” Renzo countered. “She is completely trustworthy.”
Lissa pushed her hair over one shoulder with an indolent gesture. Her eyes sparked. “It can wait,” she said tightly. And then she smiled. Faith had the impression of razor-sharp fangs lining the other woman’s mouth. “Perhaps a bit later, then.”
“Perhaps,” Renzo said.
Someone called to her, and Lissa turned and waved. “If you will excuse me, I must mingle.”
“Of course,” Renzo replied. “Do not let us keep you.”
Lissa insisted on kissing Renzo on both cheeks again and held her hand out to Faith, pressing it limply before gliding away in a cloud of malevolence that was quite possibly stronger than her perfume.
“Let me guess,” Faith said coolly, moving out of his grasp when the other woman had joined a group of people a few feet away. “She is the reason you needed a date tonight.”
“Si,” Renzo said.
Faith turned to look up at him, exasperated, and just a little hurt. “Honestly, I don’t know why you just don’t do what you always do and be done with it.”
His brows drew together. “What I always do?”
“Oh please, don’t act as if you don’t know. I’ve worked for you for six months, and I’ve yet to see a woman last more than a month with you. You wine them, dine them, give them presents and dump them.”
It was bold of her, but she’d had just enough wine to loosen her tongue. To be on the safe side, she deposited the half-finished glass on the terrace wall. If she drank the whole thing, heaven knows what she might say to him.
Renzo grinned. Not at all the effect she’d been going for. “You forgot one, Faith.” She frowned, but he leaned toward her and spoke before she could say anything. “Bed them.”
A flash of heat shot through her. Dammit! “Yes, of course. How could I forget that one? Silly me.”
She realized she was standing before him with her arms crossed defensively when he put his hands on her shoulders and skimmed them down her arms. “I had no idea you were so outraged by my behavior,” he teased.
Faith scoffed as she tried very hard not to react to his skin touching hers. Why didn’t she just shove him away? “Outraged? I have no say in anything you choose to do. I am not outraged. It was merely an observation.”
He put a finger under her jaw and tipped her chin up. His sharp eyes glittered with some hidden passion that hadn’t been there only a moment ago. It shocked her. And intrigued her.
He was so close. Too close, the heat emanating from him enveloping her, making her long to press into him and see just how hot she could feel. Would she burn up in his embrace?
No. No, no, no. She would not think of her Italian playboy boss in that way. It wasn’t safe. It was irresponsible. Reckless.
Faith did not do reckless. The one time she had, it had cost her far more than she could have ever dreamed. She was finished with reckless.
“But you disapprove,” Renzo said.
“Not this time.” And she almost meant it, except for the fact it would mean Renzo would actually sleep with that obnoxious woman. Though, on the other hand, the woman would pay for it in the end when Renzo dumped her. Faith might enjoy shopping for that parting gift. “Go for it.”
He laughed. “And what makes you think I have not already? That she just doesn’t understand I no longer want her?”
It was a valid point, but she knew better because she’d witnessed the fallout too many times. The tears, the desperate phone calls, the attempts to sneak past her and into his office in order to plead for another chance. Women could be, she’d decided, awfully pitiful sometimes. She wanted to tell them to get some dignity, to stop begging and go on with their lives. Men like Renzo were immune to histrionics.
“Because a woman who has been subjected to the D’Angeli treatment is usually angry with you. She wasn’t. She wants you, and pretty badly I’d say.”
The look in his eyes was sharp. He moved a step closer and she shuddered involuntarily. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said, much too innocently. “I like the way you talk, Faith. It sounds like sweet syrup, all long and drawn out as if you had all day to speak. Not like the women in New York.”
“That’s because I’m from Georgia. It’s hot there. We talk slow and walk slow and, well, do a lot of things slow.” My God, she was babbling. To her urbane, gorgeous boss. Where was her dignity?
One of Renzo’s dark eyebrows arched. “Really? I can imagine that some things are done best when done slowly. How wise you people from Georgia are.”
Her heart was slamming into her ribs and a fine sheen of moisture was rising in t
he valley between her breasts. “I sound no different now than I have for the past six months. I can’t imagine how you haven’t noticed it before.”
He took another step and she backed up, found herself against the wall of the terrace where it curved inward. He put a hand on the wall beside her, trapping her as his other hand came up and caressed her jaw.
It was electrifying.
“I have been wondering this myself,” he said. “You have hidden yourself well, Faith.”
Her body hummed with electricity that she feared would scorch her if it continued for much longer. “I’ve hidden nothing. I’ve come to work every day and sat at a desk not ten feet from your office door. I’ve brought you coffee, papers. I’ve fielded phone calls and given you reports. And I’ve gone shopping for those goodbye presents for your women—”
“Ah,” he said softly, “you are offended.”
“No,” she replied. But then, because she couldn’t help it, she added, “Though I think you should shop for your own presents.”
Renzo laughed. “Perhaps you are correct, and yet you always choose the nicest things. How can I compete?”
“By employing a full-time personal shopper?”
His gaze dropped to her mouth for a moment and she sucked in a breath, trying to calm her racing heart. He hadn’t backed away, hadn’t taken his hand from her cheek in all this time they’d been talking. The sharp ache throbbing inside her was nearly unbearable.
And unfathomable.
“You have lovely eyes,” he said. “Why do you hide them behind those hideous glasses all day long?”
She stiffened. “They’re reading glasses. I need them to do my job.” A different kind of heat scorched her now.
Someone laughed nearby, and then Lissa’s voice drifted over the others. “So plain and unattractive. Honestly, I can’t see what he sees in her. Must be an Italian thing.”
Time seemed to stand still for a moment, hovering in the air above Faith’s head, threatening her with old humiliations and hurts. And then it drifted down over her, covering her in feelings she would rather forget.
She told herself not to care, but she did anyway. It hurt, being the center of negative attention. Though nothing Lissa said could come close to what Faith had gone through in the past when Jason had betrayed her trust, she was surprised to realize that it still had the power to hurt her.
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