Job done, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Unfortunately, the image hadn’t changed. She was the same ordinary person. The next task was automatic. Angling her head to stare at her naked back in the mirror, she checked her scars. Nothing had changed there either. They were still as livid, the sight of them just as stomach-churning.
What had she expected? Did she think she could wish them away?
Impatient with herself for this moment of weakness, she turned away to dress in modest brown. There was only one thing out of sync in this neat brown package, she concluded after slipping on her sensible brown court shoes, and that was some rather striking underwear, purchased from a luxury boutique in Rome. Well, if she waited for a suitable opportunity to wear it the moths would have a feast.
Before leaving the room she slicked on some lip gloss. Mashing her lips together experimentally, she decided to wipe it off again. Did she want to draw attention? As no other delaying tactics sprang to mind, she drew in a deep, steadying breath and picked up her bag.
CHAPTER TEN
HE SETTLED HIS shades in place. Zapping the lock, he swung into the car. Resting the phone in its nest, he was still talking, grim-faced and tight-lipped as he pulled away from the kerb outside the imposing hospital building. ‘Yes, of course, do everything you can—whatever it takes—and please keep me informed.’
He stopped and drew breath as he cut the line. Now it was business as usual. This was his life—swinging from the charity that meant so much to him to the business that sustained it. The only difference today was that he was going to be late again for a meeting with Katie Bannister.
It couldn’t be helped and he wouldn’t explain the delay. He didn’t want the world knowing what he did in his private time and only a very few individuals knew he was behind the charitable foundation. His only concern was ensuring confidentiality for anyone helped by the foundation. Today it had provided life-saving surgery; tomorrow he might be taking a teenager around the track in his sports car. Whatever was required he made time for—and sometimes Antonia suffered; he knew that and felt bad about it, but there were never enough hours in a day.
Antonia knew nothing about this other life. She was too young. He would never put the burden of silence on her shoulders.
Resting his unshaven chin on his arm, he waited for a gap in the traffic. Before he could placate Antonia he must meet with Signorina Prim, and learn what last thought Carlo had sent his way. Katie Bannister would be cooling her sensible heels at the penthouse, feeling justly affronted because he was late by more than an hour.
In spite of the rush-hour traffic he made it back in record time. Leaving the sports car where it was sure to be clamped and in all probability towed away, he raced into the building. He stabbed impatiently at the elevator button and barged inside the steel cage before the doors were properly open. Throwing himself back against the wall, he watched the floor numbers changing—more slowly, surely, than they had ever changed before.
Edgy didn’t even begin to describe his condition. Impatience steaming out of every pore. He used the few seconds remaining to compartmentalise his thinking. He couldn’t take so much anger and concern into this meeting—it wasn’t fair to Katie. She didn’t know about his day, or the fact that Carlo was trying to stab him one last time from the grave—how could she?
He liked her. She was a quiet little mouse, but the way she stood up to him suggested there was a spine of steel in there somewhere—who wouldn’t like that? Maybe if things had been different...
But things weren’t different and the elevator had just reached his floor.
* * *
She found it hard to believe Rigo would be late again. Surely, not even he could be this inconsiderate—this rude? It proved how little he thought of her professionally; in every way. She was an inconvenience and nothing more. Staring down at the busy main road framed by exquisite palaces and gardens, Katie tried to make herself believe it didn’t matter Rigo was late again. Why should she care? This was business. Lots of clients were late for business meetings—some even forgot about them entirely. Why should this be any different?
Because this appointment was with Rigo.
Because of the ache in her heart.
Because she wanted him to treat her better than the average client would treat her, and because she had allowed herself to commit the cardinal sin of becoming emotionally involved with a client—a one-sided arrangement that left her feeling daft and stupid. As she continued to beat herself up her attention was drawn to one of the large Roman car-towing vehicles. No doubt someone else’s day was about to be spoiled—
‘Katie.’
She whirled around as Rigo’s husky voice broke the silence.
‘I’m so sorry.’ He strode towards her. Having burst in like a whirlwind, he spread his arms wide in a gesture of regret. ‘Please accept my apologies.’
She took him in at a glance—the unshaven face, the rumpled clothes, the less than brilliant eyes. A horrible thought occurred to her, making her feel sick inside. Had he come here straight from someone’s bed?
And why should she care? Was his sex life her business now?
But she did care. She cared a great deal too much. ‘Rigo,’ she said, extending a cool hand in greeting. ‘I had almost given you up.’
‘You’ve been well looked after, I hope?’ He glanced around and relaxed when he saw her coffee.
‘I’ve been looked after very well, thank you, and while I was waiting—’
‘Yes?’
His eyes were warmer now. ‘I took down some messages for you.’
‘Bene...good.’
She crossed to the desk to pick up the notes she had made. ‘One was from the PA you just sacked,’ she said, turning. ‘Signorina Partilora was most disappointed that you weren’t here for her to deliver her message to you in person. Perhaps you’d like me to read it to you—’
‘No,’ he interrupted. ‘That’s OK. I can imagine...’
‘If you’re sure?’ Her eyes glinted.
‘Signorina Bannister,’ Rigo growled, ‘if I am any judge, I cannot imagine that such words would ever cross your lips.’
Then I might surprise you, Katie thought, flashing her innocent look. ‘I think it’s safe to say Signorina Partilora will not be working for you again,’ she told him mildly.
Rigo laughed. ‘What a relief. I have your cast-iron guarantee on that, do I?’
He was close enough to touch and her senses were ignited by his delicious man scent. If she could bottle that warm, clean, spicy aroma she’d make a fortune, Katie concluded. And then she would be able to walk away from a job she had no passion for.
‘The will?’ Rigo prompted.
‘Yes, of course.’ Her eyes stung with tears as she walked to the desk.
Because this was the end, Katie realised. It was the end of her Roman fantasy and the end of her fantasy life with Rigo—except she had no life with Rigo and she’d be going home after this.
Instead of sitting across from her Rigo came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. His touch was electric. Had he seen her eyes fill with tears? She couldn’t bear the humiliation.
‘I understand why you are upset and short tempered,’ he said, keeping his hands in place, ‘and you have every right to be angry with me. Please be assured my delay was necessary.’
She let her breath out slowly as he lifted his hands away and walked to the other side of the desk. She found it even harder to control her feelings when Rigo was nice to her, and now her nose was having a seizure, while her throat felt as if someone was standing on it. ‘Shall we start?’ she managed hoarsely.
‘Of course,’ he said.
She focused her attention on the legal documents in front of her, but the imprint of Rigo’s fingers on her shoulders remained. She had to re
mind herself Rigo was Italian and caresses came easily to him. Such shows of emotion were practically unheard of in Katie’s world—except perhaps under the office mistletoe at Christmas, when the ancient caretaker made sure she wasn’t left out and always gave her a peck on the cheek.
Rigo made a sign for her to begin.
Must he sprawl across the seat? Must he look quite so sexy even in repose?
In the best acting scene of her life, she began.
* * *
Grim-faced, he listened. Carlo had left him everything? His mouth curved with distaste. He couldn’t wait to find out what ‘everything’ entailed. He guessed debt would play some part in it. Katie caught sight of his expression and gave him a troubled glance.
Getting up from the desk, he turned his back on her. Today he could have used her soothing presence and common sense. Today he wanted nothing more than to have this sordid business over with so he could ring the hospital. If they didn’t ring him first...
‘There’s also a private letter from your stepbrother, Rigo, as well as a small package.’
Katie’s soft voice cut through his thoughts and he heard her push back her chair, get up and walk across the room towards him.
‘Grazie.’ He turned.
‘I’ll leave you, shall I?’ she offered, hovering uncertainly.
‘No.’ He held out his hand, palm up. ‘Stay. Please,’ he added, when her steady gaze called him to account for his brusque manner.
He walked some distance away before opening Carlo’s letter. Katie could have no idea of the depths of depravity to which his stepbrother had sunk and the disgrace Carlo had brought on the family. He didn’t want her to know. Why give her that as a parting gift to take home? Like his visit to the hospital earlier, none of this was Katie’s responsibility. Let her return to England with her presumptions about his glittering life intact. Just so long as she left Rome as carefree as she arrived he was fine with that.
After years of practice he thought he was immune to feeling, but the sight of Carlo’s familiar hand gave him a punch in the gut he hadn’t expected. He glanced at Katie, who discreetly looked away. He had shut himself off emotionally years back when his father had chosen a woman and that woman’s son over him. The same loneliness and isolation he’d felt then swept over him now.
He tensed, hearing Katie ask him softly, ‘Are you all right?’
He nodded curtly and turned back to Carlo’s letter. His heart was closed.
Wasn’t it?
Dragging the usual mental armour round him, he began to read.
Rigo—
There is nothing I can say to make up for the years I stole from you, but I want to make my peace with you before I die. I’m not giving you anything that isn’t rightfully yours.
Carlo.
Cryptic to the end, he thought, ripping open the small package.
The keys of the family palazzo in Tuscany tumbled into his hands, followed by his father’s ring. He slipped on the ring and felt both the weight of responsibility it carried and an agonising longing. He had waited so long for contact with his father, and that it should come like this...
And to see his home again...his beautiful home...
He lowered the letter to his side as a well of emotion threatened to drown him.
The here and now fell away as his mind travelled back to the past. He had lived a blissful country existence at the palazzo, ignorant of pomp and pretension until his father fell in love and brought Carlo and his stepmother home. He had welcomed Carlo with open arms, thinking he would have a brother to share things with, only to have his youthful naïvety thrown back in his face. Carlo hadn’t had time to spare for a boy much younger than him, and one who stood in the way of easy money.
‘Shall I get you a drink?’
He glanced up, still a little disorientated as Katie spoke to him. ‘No. Yes...a glass of water...please.’
‘I’ll go and get it for you.’
Her expression told him she understood something of what he was going through, and for the briefest of moments there was a real connection between them.
Everything had come full circle, he realised as Katie left him to pace. She was going home. He was going home. He could hardly take it in. He would have liked a bit longer to get used to the idea, but there was no time.
Katie returned a little later with a tray of coffee, hot and strong. She brought him some iced water too. He guessed she had wanted to leave him alone with his thoughts for a while.
‘That’s very good of you, Signorina Bannister,’ he said as she laid everything out for him, ‘but I should take you to the airport now.’ He glanced at his watch, feeling his head must explode from everything he’d learned.
‘There’s time enough for that.’ She busied herself making sure his coffee was poured the way he liked it.
‘I thought you were in a hurry to get back to England.’
‘I can’t leave you like this—’
‘Like what?’ he demanded sharply. He didn’t need her pity. What business was it of hers how he felt?
She raised her steady gaze to his and as if a veil had lifted a torrent of impassioned words poured out. ‘I do this all the time, Rigo—I see this all the time. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand how cruel people can be to each other.’
‘Then you should toughen up.’
‘Or get out of the job,’ she said thoughtfully.
‘There is that,’ he agreed, watching her as he sipped the hot, aromatic liquid.
She calmed him. Against all the odds, Katie Bannister calmed him. Dread at what the contents of the will might reveal had been replaced by shock when he’d learned that Carlo had left him the only place he cared about. The palazzo had been in the Ruggiero family for centuries and Carlo must have recognised this at the end, so there was some good in him after all. The question now was, could he live with the guilt of knowing the past could never be mended?
Turning away from Katie, he passed a hand over his eyes.
Too much emotion.
But he was going home...
Home...
Growing elation was threatening to leave him on the biggest high he’d ever known. He wanted someone to share that feeling with. He wanted Katie to share it with him, but she was already packing up her things, a little hesitantly, he thought. ‘What’s on your mind?’ She looked as if she was struggling with a decision.
‘Oh...you know...’ She flapped her hand, dismissing his concern.
‘No, I don’t know. I want you to tell me. What’s wrong?’ He was feeling increasing concern for this quiet girl who made everyone else’s problems her own and yet seemed so isolated, somehow.
‘You have your own problems.’
As always she made light of her own concerns. ‘I just inherited an estate and a palazzo in Tuscany,’ he pointed out. ‘How bad can it be?’
‘That must mean a lot to you.’ All her focus was on him now.
‘My birthright? Oh, you know...’ He dismissed the home of his dreams, his childhood and his heart with an airy gesture.
‘Don’t, Rigo. You make it sound so flippant, when anyone with half an ounce of sense can see how much this means to you.’
‘You can tell, maybe...’ It was a turning point. He wanted the moment to last, but the best thing for Katie was for him to let his driver take her to the airport. A more unworthy part of him was reacting in the age-old way in the face of death. He wanted sex. The urge to make new life was an imperative inborn command. He wanted to have sex with Katie Bannister.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WHAT WAS WRONG with him? After years of emotional abstinence, why this sudden roller-coaster ride? He’d had huge and fantastic coups in business many times and hadn’t felt a thing. He’d learned long ago to turn his back on an in
heritance he thought he’d never see again. So it wasn’t the just the palazzo in Tuscany gnawing at his gut. Was it possible this shy, innocent girl was slowly melting his resolve and bringing emotion into his life?
He watched Katie cross the room to the desk in her neat, precise way. Her feelings were bound up tight just like his. He would like to see her respond to life and all its opportunities, and with abandon.
‘Before I go, here is the list of phone messages I took for you,’ she said in her strait-laced way. ‘And don’t be offended, but while I was waiting for you I tidied up that pile of documents by your chair on the floor—’
‘I meant to get round to that.’
‘How many PAs have you sacked?’ she asked him bluntly.
Many, but did he want to frighten her off with an idea being born in his head? ‘I’m not the easiest man to work for,’ he admitted with monumental understatement. ‘I need someone who can use their initiative and do more than answer the phone—’
‘Well, lucky for you,’ she cut in dryly, ‘I made a list of all the written messages I found lying around.’
‘Most of them written on the back of envelopes,’ he said, remembering his latest PA’s failure to grasp the simple fact that a desk diary could be quite a useful office tool if she remembered to use it.
‘Your diary is in quite a mess,’ Katie added, levelling a stare on him.
‘And has been for some time,’ he agreed.
‘And the staff at your office...’
Could be called obnoxious; he’d admit that. ‘Go on,’ he prompted, feeling there was something more to come.
‘Have no manners at all,’ she told him frankly. ‘And that’s not good for your image.’
‘What image?’
‘Exactly.’
He missed a beat. ‘Why, Signorina Bannister, I think you just revealed another side to your character.’
‘Really?’
‘PA—’
‘Oh, no.’ Shaking her head, she laughed at the thought of him offering her a job.
Taming the Last AcostaItalian Boss, Proud Miss Prim Page 26