The smile he gave her was chilling in its lack of emotion. “I must concede that one advantage of being involved with someone of your background is that as a businesswoman, you understand how these affairs work and you do not feel the need to dress them up with fancy words. It caught me off guard at first, but it is also refreshing in its way.”
She inclined her head, feeling the tang of bitterness at the back of her throat. What had she let herself in for? “We aim to please.”
“And you succeed, carissima. I have absolutely no complaints on that score.”
They departed for the city not long afterwards. Calia managed to minimize her reaction to him by playing up her internal sense of grievance, while staring fixedly out her side window. At least that way, she was able to ignore the potent masculinity of his presence. Mostly.
Though of course, the fact that she was so far from indifferent to him was more fuel to the fire of her irritation. Despite all her high-minded notions about not allowing him to approach their involvement like a business deal, she had done just that—had, in fact, introduced the idea herself. She shook her head disgustedly, frowning out of the window.
But perhaps she was looking it all wrong. The situation was only problematic if she allowed it to be. Maybe it was for the best that they had laid it out in a business context. At least this way, she could start thinking of their association in such terms—and could begin moving away from that dangerous territory she had been so fearful about, earlier.
She went with Gio to his office, where he introduced her to his assistant, Daria. Calia recognized the husky, accented voice from their brief conversation the day before, but instead of a Sophia Loren lookalike, his secretary was a friendly, plain-faced older woman with a smile that lent her a fleeting radiance.
Calia left his office with the determination to put all thoughts of Gio from her mind. She spent the morning visiting the catacombs, a fascinating series of labyrinthine tunnels on the outskirts of Rome where the early Christians used to meet in order to avoid persecution. Since it was still early, she was able to sign up for one of the first English tours of the day. She had completed that, and her walk about the grounds, well before it was time to return to Gio’s office. And though the tour had engaged her, during her solitary moments, her thoughts never strayed far from Gio.
After taking a bus back into town, Calia toyed briefly with the idea of checking out a few other sights on her way back to Gio’s office, but she soon dismissed the notion. She wouldn’t be much good for further sightseeing—her thoughts and emotions were in far too much turmoil for that.
Instead, she settled herself at a little café along a quiet street, where she passed the time alternately mooning about Gio and fretting about what appeared to be a growing obsession with the man. The magnificence of his lovemaking. The breathtakingly masculine beauty of his physique. Even the underlying likeability of his personality. For it was rapidly becoming evident that part of the problem—and the danger of her association with him—stemmed from the fact that she actually liked him. He was a good person, even if she couldn’t see her way around their fundamental incompatibilities.
He was comfortable with his views on women, relationships and marriage and clearly saw no reason to change them. Given that she felt exactly the same way about her own perspectives—she could never imagine relinquishing her independence or being in a relationship that was lacking in mutal respect, as well as mutual affection—there seemed no path to anything more serious between them.
But the thing that truly angered her was that she could even be thinking along these lines.
They were temporary. She was supposed to be reveling in the lack of commitment outlined by their agreement. It was the very embodiment of the sophisticated, wordly lifestyle some part of her had been hoping to embrace when she had broken up with Dave and decided to pursue her longtime dream of living in Europe.
She had applied for the job in the Frankfurt firm mainly to get the ball rolling. She had figured she probably wouldn’t hear from them again, but that taking the action would get her thinking along those lines. She had been looking into the question of work visas and the other practicalities when she had heard back from Vorsichter Hessen.
After two phone interviews and one videoconference, they had narrowed their range of applicants to two finalists, whom they flew into their office for in-person meetings. It was at that point that Calia figured she might as well tack a holiday onto the end of such an opportunity. It would give her a chance to reconnoitre and see which places intrigued her the most, so that even if she didn’t get the job, she’d be able to make an informed decision about which city she would most like to use as her base.
She sipped her cappuccino thoughtfully. The plan still seemed sound, in theory. She had discovered that both Frankfurt and Paris had their advantages, making her decision more difficult than she had originally hoped.
But she now knew that the biggest complication of all had nothing to do with deciding between the two cities, and everything to do with the sense of deflation she experienced every time she thought about the end of her Roman holiday.
As Calia finished the last of her cappuccino, she reminded herself that she and Gio had a business arrangement. Business could sometimes be emotional, too, when the stakes got high.
If you happened to like the people you were doing business with, all the better. It made working with them easier. Similarly, when a positive business partnership ended and it was time to move on, the parting could be amicable and tinged with regret. There was no crime in that.
She stood and checked the time, before frowning at her watch. Might the battery be dying? But no—the second hand was ticking away with its usual briskness. So how could that coffee only have taken twenty minutes?
She shook her head, irritated once again—this time at the fact that time could actually be dragging for her while she was in Rome, of all places. What she needed was some brisk activity. She would walk back to Gio’s office—it would take some time, but she figured she needed the exercise. And this area of the city was picturesque enough, with its blending of old world style and modern metropolis, that it promised to be a form of sightseeing in itself.
* * *
She arrived at the office with fifteen minutes to spare. The walk had done her good, getting her legs moving and pulling her away from the heavy, static thoughts that had been plaguing her. Between her strong sense of direction, her good memory for landmarks and the map she kept handy, she had no difficulty finding her way—and even took a few detours to significant landmarks along the route.
But, as she entered the head office of the Diamanti Group and walked through the austerely elegant front foyer, with its smooth marble surfaces and discreet fountains, she found her mood shifting once again, her chest constricting with a jumpy agitation.
She would be seeing him again in a few minutes, and her body was already winding up in anticipation. As she rode up the elevator, she composed herself, so that when the doors slid silently open on the executive floor, she felt outwardly calm and ready to present a businesslike façade.
The executive receptionist, who had seen her coming through earlier in the day, nodded and waved her through to Gio’s private suite of offices, where Calia was greeted by Daria’s welcoming smile.
The other woman was on the phone, so Calia took a seat and settled in to wait. She had hardly picked up one of the annual reports on display when the sound of approaching voices had her glancing up.
She soon realized that, in contrast to all the other incidental conversations she had overheard since her arrival in Italy, she could actually understand what was being said. The two men were speaking French. The voices continued to approach, emerging into full clarity as their owners came to a stop not far from where Calia was sitting.
“…I told you, they’re not going to release the report. They say it would be premature—that the studies are not sufficiently conclusive.”
Calia glanced around the waiting a
rea, trying to pinpoint the origin of the voices. She wondered if she ought to say something to alert them to her presence. But some impulse kept her silent. She soon realized that she was overhearing a conversation between the two men she had met at the reception, with Gio—what were their names? Marron, and Sorvignac.
“Deal with it, Marron. Send them an offer on behalf of the Foundation to extend their funding, so long as they release the preliminary findings by Friday. Be generous. Say they can release the full report later, when it is conclusive. I would like to do this with their consent, but if they continue to refuse, we will arrange to have the findings leaked.”
“But what’s the use of preliminary findings, anyway?”
Sorvignac made an impatient noise. “People don’t take notice of things like ‘preliminary’ when studies are released. They just want the bottom line: good or bad. If later evidence emerges to contradict it, they’ll jump on that bandwagon when the time comes. As long as the conclusions are spelled out by some group of scientists, and the public is shown what to think, they go along with it.”
Marron didn’t sound happy. “I’ll do what I can.”
“No. You will get that report released. I have given you the means, now see that it is done. And as incentive, let me just say, your continued employment with me depends upon it.”
Calia wondered what to make of the exchange as the two men discussed the details of how to couch the offer of funding from this mysterious Foundation that Sorvignac had mentioned.
Out of context, the discussion didn’t make too much sense. She had the impression that, like Gio, Sorvignac seemed to have holdings in multiple sectors. If that were the case, this could have to do with any number of them. Given that the talk centered around scientific tests, findings and the costs associated with funding, it seemed entirely possible that this was some new emergency that Sorvignac was having to deal with that was unrelated to the negotiations with Gio. As she listened, she began to wonder why the man had someone like Marron working for him if the latter really were as incompetent as he seemed.
After a few more moments, Calia set down the annual report and stood. Really, she shouldn’t have been eavesdropping like this in the first place. She followed their voices and found the two men deeply immersed in conversation as they stood in an adjacent corridor.
They broke off when they saw her. Marron nodded, his expression tense and his thoughts clearly elsewhere. Sorvignac, by contrast, broke into a wide smile as he came forward, switching to English without hesitation. “Ah, Mademoiselle Ryan! What a delight to see you again—and looking charming as always.” He took her hand, kissing it with a flourish.
“I was just waiting for Gio when I heard voices I thought I recognized,” she said, pasting on a smile. She didn’t feel altogether comfortable with what the overheard conversation implied about Sorvignac’s ethics—but then that was also the reason she preferred economic analysis over actual business dealings.
“I am so glad that you did! After a morning of arduous negotiations, seeing you looking so bright-eyed and lovely is like a nectar from the gods.”
Calia managed to refrain from rolling her eyes. Her mother had always told her to accept compliments graciously, but Sorvignac made it difficult, since she couldn’t take such fulsome praises seriously. Nonetheless, she smiled and nodded. “You’re too kind, Mr. Sorvignac.” If the two men assumed she hadn’t understood any of their previous discussion, she wasn’t about to disabuse them of the notion. “Has it been a difficult morning, then?”
He gave a gallic shrug. “Your man, he is a tough one. He drives a—how do you say it?—difficult bargain?”
“A ‘hard bargain’,” Calia supplied.
Sorvignac nodded. “C’est ça.”
Marron had come forward, and was glancing between the two of them, his expression still tight. “You will both excuse me, please?”
“Of course,” Calia said.
Sorvignac just nodded, his expression hardening as he looked at the other man. His next words were delivered in French, his tone harsh, “You’d best make sure they release that damned report, Marron. Otherwise, I promise to make you regret ever asking my wife for this job.”
After Marron had taken his leave, Sorvignac shook his head, turning his attention back to Calia.
“I must ask you to excuse Marron’s abrupt departure. I have sent him off to put out a little brush fire of his own making.” He gave her a self-deprecating smile, but Calia saw a lingering hardness in his eyes as he continued, “Nepotism at its worst, you understand—he is my wife’s brother, and he recently lost his job elsewhere.” He gestured philosophically. “The things we do to keep the peace on the domestic front, eh? But, he will find himself demoted to a quiet little cul-de-sac in one of my companies if he messes this one up, so I am not worried. He is paid, I am happy, my wife is happy.”
He tilted his head at her, his expression becoming a leer, though Calia imagined that he probably just meant it to be admiring. “But, I am certain, ma chère, that you know all about that kind of bargaining. How long have you been with Diamanti?”
Calia hesitated, unsure of how to answer such a question diplomatically. Finally, she settled on a neutral, “Not long.”
Sorvignac’s eyes gleamed. “If you would like to be with someone a little longer, I will tell you that we Frenchman are known both for our endowments and our stamina. I should love to see how your skin looks by candlelight, ma belle. I could make it worth your while.”
Between the insinuation in his expression and the slight implied by his crack about length, Calia inferred he was not talking about an expensive restaurant when he mentioned candlelight. The assumption that she was somehow available to the highest bidder irritated her. She smiled at him through gritted teeth. He was making it increasingly difficult to be tactful.
“Your wife must be a very lucky woman,” she said pleasantly. After all, if Calia were stuck with such a sleazeball, she’d certainly be glad if he strayed—often and for as long as possible.
“I have not heard her complaining.” He gave her a smug look.
Because you’re probably not around long enough. Or maybe she one of those sorts who goes in for private “tennis” lessons.
“But as I say,” he continued, “I am a man of extraordinary stamina. The offer is open, if ever you tire of your current situation. Paris is a beautiful city, and I would be delighted to show you the best of it.”
“She is more than happy in Rome at the moment,” came the clipped reply from just behind her, as a firm hand clamped around her upper arm, the grip on the verge of being painful.
Calia turned to find Gio watching Sorvignac, his eyes as cold and hard as ever she had seen them. She gave him a wide smile of relief, before returning her attention to Sorvignac. “It’s true. Rome is a fascinating and complex city. I’ve only just scratched the surface of all it has to offer. I don’t see myself tiring of it anytime soon.”
“Now if you will excuse us,” Gio added, his lip curling. “I promised Calia that I would take her sightseeing this afternoon.” The slight emphasis he put on the word “sightseeing” was lost on neither Calia nor Sorvignac, who was watching the two of them with an air of rueful speculation.
Gio had already begun to walk away and Calia followed him with alacrity. Without slowing her pace, she glanced behind her to give the other man a brief wave. “Nice seeing you again.” She tried not to sound too patently insincere.
“À la prochaine, ma belle,” he called after her.
“Not if I have anything to do with it,” she muttered once she was certain they were out of earshot.
Gio glanced at her, his expression softening and taking on a tinge of amusement. “You were not enjoying yourself?”
“I was actually going to ask if you have a shower on the premises because I was starting to feel soiled just talking with that man.”
He scowled, and though they were not touching, Calia could practically feel the return of tension to
his body. “He was offensive to you? This is unacceptable behaviour. I will speak to him.”
He led her into his office and closed the double doors behind them. Calia had the impression of understated wealth and discreet elegance, vaguely noting a dauntingly vast desk, plush office chairs and a suite of leather furniture arranged into a more casual seating area to her left. But, she didn’t bother to take detailed note of her surroundings. She turned to face Gio.
“What he says to me is nothing to you—particularly since I probably won’t be seeing him again. So there’s no point in jeopardizing your business relationship over this.”
His expression did not relent. “What did he say to you?”
“What he said was between us. And I dealt with it as I saw fit.”
Her words precipitated the return of his anger. But even though she saw it in the sudden darkness in his face and the hard tension of his body, she was unprepared for his next words. “I see. So you are keeping your options open. How prudent of you.”
Fury swamped her, obliterating rational thought. Before she even realized it, she had swung around and given him a hard slap. “You bastard! How dare you! I remained diplomatic with that man in order to keep the peace between you two—so that your precious business deal wouldn’t be jeopardized. So don’t you start with the nasty insinuations! You’re as bad as he is!”
She had swung away and was stalking towards the door, when she felt his hand close on her arm once again.
“Calia.”
It was the measured gravity of his tone that stilled her, more than his restraining hand. “What?” She didn’t care if she sounded rude. If he could say such things to her, then he didn’t deserve her courtesy.
“I am sorry. I was jealous and I spoke without thinking.”
Why did her heart leap at the admission? A foolish reaction. A man didn’t have to care in order to be jealous. He only had to be possessive. She raised her head, but did not turn to face him. She wasn’t going to let him get away with it that easily. “You’re always so ready with your apologies. One begins to suspect that you’re only making them to placate me.” She glanced at him, trying to gauge his response to her accusation.
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