Daring to Trust the Boss (Harlequin Romance)

by Meier, Susan

  “He’s driving you nuts.”

  “He truly is.”

  “Want some advice?”

  “It’s why I called.”

  Her lips lifted into a happy smile. He trusted her. That’s why he’d told her the little snippet of his past on spaghetti night. That’s why he’d sent her to Italy without him. He might not want to like and trust her but he did. He’d come to a problem he couldn’t solve and he’d turned to her.

  “Call him in and tell him to relax. Or do what you did with me. Take him to a meeting. Make sure he knows he’s to be seen and not heard. Remind him that a good assistant is nearly invisible.”

  “I didn’t tell you that.” His voice had calmed, almost warmed.

  She settled more deeply into her pillow. Maybe he really had missed her, too? Or maybe it was just easier talking long distance? “Not in those words. But after the signing you told me that you appreciated that I hadn’t said anything.”

  “And you extrapolated the rest?”

  She thought about that. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “That’s why you’re good with people. You don’t just read between the lines, you read the right subtext between the lines.” He paused only slightly before he said, “How’s Antonio?”

  “I don’t think Antonio is the problem. I think it’s Patrice. She likes schedules and timetables. Antonio sort of marches to his own drummer.”

  “Have you gotten him to put on a shirt?”

  She laughed. “He always wears a shirt now.”

  “Yeah, but is it buttoned?”

  The tone of his voice sent a little jolt of hope to her lonely heart. “Are you jealous?”

  “No. More like confused. Wondering if I’d get better deals if I stopped wearing ties and showed off a little chest hair.”

  She laughed with delight and Tucker settled more comfortably into his seat in the limo. He’d missed her terribly. It was wrong, and calling her probably wasn’t fair to her, but he’d needed to hear her voice. He’d happily jumped on the excuse of needing advice about his new assistant.

  “Seriously, how’s it going over there?”

  “Actually it’s going very well. Antonio considers Constanzo his benefactor and by default a mentor. He seems to like and trust him. I’d say we could tell him now that Constanzo’s his dad, except I don’t want to screw up his showing.”

  “I agree. That show needs to go well.”

  “Especially since Antonio’s invested in it. This isn’t just his career. Painting is his life. I want to tread lightly here. I want to do this right.”

  The limo pulled up to Tucker’s building. “Then we’ll do it right.” Maurice opened the door. “Trust your gut, Miss Prentiss. So far you seem to be doing very well.”

  He stepped out onto the street and inhaled the fresh New York City air after a rain storm. The empty, hollow feeling he’d been carrying around in his gut since she’d left had disappeared. He’d gotten the advice he’d wanted about his new assistant and received an update on her circumstances. There was nothing more to say.

  “Good night, Miss Prentiss.”

  He disconnected the call and headed to the penthouse of his Park Avenue apartment. The quiet of the elevator rattled through him, reminding him again that in his sixties he’d be Constanzo Bartulocci.

  When the doors opened on his slick white, black and chrome apartment, the silence was deafening. He unexpectedly wished he’d kept Olivia on the phone for another ten minutes, at least until he had a drink in his hand and the sports channel on TV. But that was foolish. Stupid. He couldn’t have her. As he’d told her, he couldn’t be what she wanted. And he was going to have to control this.

  Tomorrow. For tonight, he was glad he’d called. Glad she’d made him laugh. Glad she was doing well.

  The next day, he did as Olivia had suggested. He took Ward Bancroft to a lunch meeting. He told him it was not his job to talk, but to be available to find information and to observe. At the meeting, the kid was so quiet one wouldn’t have even known he was there.

  In the limo on the way back, Tucker complimented him on a job well done and Ward virtually glowed.

  Every assignment he gave him that afternoon was completed with the utmost care, and he had a much more professional tone with visitors.

  Of course, most of his visitors had liked Olivia better, but that was beside the point. He had companies to run, jobs to be done, investments to be investigated. He and his assistant were not there to have fun.

  Still, riding up the elevator to the penthouse that night, he pulled out his cell and speed-dialed Olivia.

  “Hello.”

  “You sound freshly showered.”

  “Now how would you know that?”

  He smiled shrewdly. He wasn’t the only one who could handle people. “I don’t. I took a wild guess and led you into a statement that confirmed it. That’s how I deal with people.”

  “I prefer my direct approach.”

  “I sort of like being sneaky.”

  “No kidding.”

  The elevator ride wasn’t interminable. The doors opening on his penthouse apartment didn’t feel like the boring, silent gates of hell yawning open before him. He slid out of his jacket and walked to the bar.

  “I did what you suggested with Mr. Bancroft and today he was as sharp as a brand-new pencil.”

  “That’s great.”

  After pouring two fingers of Scotch, he fell to a furry white chaise. He put his feet up. Put his shoulders back. Sipped his favorite malt liquor and savored.

  “We work like a well-oiled machine. He knows the right questions to ask. He doesn’t ask stupid things. I think I’ve found a keeper.”

  His happiness was met with resounding silence and he stared at the phone for a few seconds before she said, “That’s really good for him. And you. I guess.”

  “Miss Prentiss, you’ve done nothing but whine about wanting to be in Accounting since the day I dragged you kicking and screaming out of HR. Why would the news that I found someone who fits the position upset you?”

  “Nobody wants to be so easily replaced, Tucker.”

  “You haven’t really been replaced. Technically, you’ve moved on.”

  “To become a babysitter?”

  “To become a manager. A business manager for Antonio.”

  “I hardly feel like a business manager.”

  “What do you think mangers do? They solve goofy nitpicky problems.”

  Her cautiously optimistic voice tiptoed across the Atlantic to him. “So I’m a manager?”

  “And you could suggest to Constanzo that he hire you permanently for his son.”

  Her breath hissed over the phone. “Are you trying to get rid of me completely?”

  “No.” His own breath stumbled. What was he doing? “I just...It’s just... Well, some people are made to be assistants and some people are meant to be...more.”

  “You’re telling me I’m made to be more?”

  “Of course, you’re meant to be more. Look at you. In a few weeks, you’ve gone from working for the head of your company to jet-setting around the globe and infiltrating the art world.” He paused, let his ice clink around the walls of his glass. “Olivia, have you ever asked yourself what you wanted?”

  “I want to be a success.”

  “And you believed an accounting degree was the best way to get there?”

  “Can’t run a company if you don’t know the basics of the numbers behind it.”

  “So you want to run your own company?”

  She hesitated. “I guess...someday.”

  “You’ve shown a talent for being able to get people to do what you want them to do. That’s your service...or your stock-in-trade. Now you merely have to figure out who your customer base wo
uld be. Then you have to market yourself.”

  He finished his drink. “Think it through tonight and I’ll call you tomorrow. We’ll make some decisions.”

  He hung up the phone and walked back down the hall to his big empty master suite with the equally big and equally empty master bathroom. But tonight, he didn’t notice those. Though his home was empty, inside he was full, busy, thinking about Olivia. Her talent. Her skills. How he could help her become the person she wanted to be.

  * * *

  The next day, as she sweet-talked Antonio and persuaded Patrice, Vivi thought about what Tucker had said about becoming a business manager. But she thought more about the fact that he was back to speaking to her casually, as if they were friends.

  All day she wondered what she’d say to him. As she signed for deliveries, debated placement with Patrice, soothed Antonio and constantly updated Constanzo, she thought about the job—what she was really doing for Antonio.

  When Tucker called that night, after she’d showered, slid into her very best pajamas and snuggled into her pillow, she said, “I think I’m actually a mother.”

  He laughed.

  “Seriously. Constanzo’s like the big lovable dad. Patrice is the grouchy middle daughter who wants everything her own way and Antonio’s the spoiled baby boy.”

  “Managers are a lot like mothers—babysitters—what have you, because there are some people who need a ‘career’ mother. You, as a business, have to find a focus so you learn that world and how to navigate in it.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Do you want to manage artists like Antonio? Or singers? Or rock bands?”

  “Is this how you did it?”

  “Did what?”

  “Decided what to do with your life?”

  He got more comfortable on his bed. Tonight he’d showered and put on silky navy blue pajama bottoms before he’d called her. He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d left off the top, except he knew it had something to do with Antonio, even though she couldn’t see his chest over the phone—damn. They should be video calling! He had two fingers of Scotch on ice and his day had gone fairly well.

  Yet he’d still looked forward to this call like a kid at Christmas.

  He winced. All but two of his Christmases had been abysmal.

  The reminder brought him back to reality. He wasn’t supposed to like her. He was helping find her place in the world as a way to repay her for her help with Antonio. “My decisions about what to do with my life had more to do with getting a roof over my head and keeping food in my stomach.”

  “Was it bad?”

  He hesitated. For as much as he didn’t want anybody to know this part of his life, didn’t want anybody to pity him, had been unable to talk about it with her at Constanzo’s, he suddenly had an uncontrollable desire to tell her. Probably because they were on the phone and he couldn’t see her face, her reactions, her pity.

  “A person can sleep on a bench and go without supper and forget about it in a few days. But the feeling of being the only person in your world, having no mom, no dad, no brothers, no sisters... That doesn’t ever go away.”

  “I have a great family.”

  “Thanks for rubbing that in.”

  She laughed and for some reason or another, in his mind’s eye, he pictured her tucking her feet beneath a soft pink robe as she snuggled into her pillow. “No, silly. I’m suggesting you spend time with them.”

  “So I can see how the other half lives?”

  “So you can see that you’d blend in. My dad’s the easiest person in the world to become friends with.” She paused. “If you golf. Do you golf?”

  Confusion sprang up inside him. How would it feel to be part of her family? “I’ve made some of my best deals on the golf course.”

  “Thank God. And my mother loves everybody. Though Cindy can be a pain in the butt like Patrice.”

  “Ah, thus the comparison to the bossy sister.”

  “And Billy’s the spoiled little brother like Antonio. Now that you know all that, you’ll fit right in. You can come to our house for every Christmas, Thanksgiving and Easter dinner for the rest of your life.”

  His heart stuttered. He’d received other invitations, of course. A wealthy man never spent a holiday alone unless he wanted to. But the picture that formed in his head warmed him. He could see himself going into Olivia’s home, armed with gifts, accepting hugs from her crazy family and rubbing his hands in anticipation over a tray of fresh snickerdoodle cookies.

  He shook his head to clear it. It was one thing to wish for a second that he belonged, quite another to indulge the fantasy. It was time to get this conversation back to planet earth.

  “And what happens after you get married? Your husband isn’t going to want your ex-boss showing up every holiday.”

  “What if I marry you?”

  The thought paralyzed him so quickly he felt like he’d vibrated to a stop.

  “Marry me?”

  “You’re not completely unacceptable or hopeless. A few more lessons in communicating like a normal human being and I might actually like you.”

  Male pride surged. There was no way he’d let her get away with that. “You already like me.”

  “A tad.”

  “A tad?”

  “Okay, more than a tad. But you like me, too.”

  It was another perfect opportunity to disabuse her of any romantic notions. Yet instead of forming words to correct her, he felt his own mouth forming the words he shouldn’t say.

  “A bit.”

  “Uh-huh. You keep telling yourself that. We like each other and you know it.”

  Though her presumptuousness should have annoyed him, her words settled over him like a soft blanket. She was bossy and nosy but usually right and he liked her. If he wasn’t careful, she’d drag his entire life and all his secrets out of him one phone call at a time.

  He changed the subject. “Did I tell you I found another company I might like to buy?”

  “You find a new company every day. But in a few weeks you may be on the hook for about a billion bucks to buy out Constanzo. Do I have to put a lock on your checkbook?”

  He laughed. “I’d just go to a bank and get a line of credit.”

  “You are a bad boy.”

  He laughed again, loving how normal she made him feel. “I want you to know, Miss Prentiss, that whatever you decide to do with your talent, I’m going to fund it. We’ll call you a start-up. You’ll get capital. I’ll lend you a few advisors for marketing. And this time next year you could be a superstar manager.”

  “Once again, it feels like you’re trying to get rid of me.”

  “You wouldn’t let me give you the bonus. And you may end up being the force that gets me Constanzo Bartulocci’s fortune. I think I owe you.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  He shook his head. “Good night, Miss Prentiss.”

  “Good night.”

  The next day when he called her, he immediately got them down to business. “I spoke with Constanzo today about hiring you to manage Antonio.”

  Her breath caught. “What?”

  “You’re in. You’ve already started. I’m funding you. You now have a client.”

  Instead of protesting that he was trying to get rid of her, she laughed. “I’m a company?”

  “You are a company.”

  “Thanks.”

  No one word had ever split his heart the way her sincere thanks had. The feeling was like warm rain or a soft snowfall on Christmas morning. Something you didn’t even know you wanted until it was there.

  He whispered, “You’re welcome.”

  The phone line grew quiet and he suddenly wanted to tell her just how much he liked her. But he stopped himself. He was
n’t sure either one of them was ready for that. But he couldn’t deny that every day, every phone call, he wanted to tell her just a little bit more. And he knew that if he didn’t stop calling her, one of these days the cat would be out of the bag.

  “Just remember, you still work for me until after Antonio’s show. Constanzo understands that until this whole process is done, you’re an employee of Inferno.”

  She laughed. “I understand that I still work for you. I remember that my primary mission is to make sure this show goes well so we can tell Antonio that Constanzo is his father.”

  “Good.”

  The line grew quiet again and fear suddenly engulfed him. Now that she had a business, his support and a client, what if she didn’t want him anymore? Maybe in giving her a soft place to land he’d given her a way out. He wasn’t exactly the easiest guy to love. She could take his money and run now.

  “Did I ever tell you about the time my mom bought me a puppy for Christmas?”

  That brought him up short. Confused, he said, “No.”

  “Well, if I tell you that story, you have to tell me one, too.”

  Even as relief poured through him, another kind of fear raced in behind it. With every step of honesty they took, they got a step closer to discovering the truth. Did they belong together? Were they good for each other? Or was he just so tired of being alone he was clinging to the first person with whom he could be honest?

  He didn’t know. But he did know she made him laugh, made him feel whole.

  “You remember the story about the video game. My stories might start happy but they end miserably.”

  Ignoring that, she broke into a long story about a puppy bought for her one Christmas that had fallen in love with her dad instead of her. “To really understand the story you have to remember my dad is bald.”

  “I remember.”

  “So one morning my mom wakes up and the dog is sleeping on my dad’s pillow, right above his head and it looked like he had hair. She screamed bloody murder until she realized it was just the dog.”

  Tucker laughed. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”