Читать книгу Italian Boss, Ruthless Revenge - Carol Marinelli, Carol Marinelli - Страница 7

CHAPTER TWO

DAMN!

Pacing the floor of the huge office, Caitlyn paused for a moment to blow her nose again, and rummaged in her bag for her compact, powdering her reddened face and telling herself to hold it together for just a little while longer.

She’d surely get another job—but she also needed those three blasted payslips just in case the court ruling went against her mother.

It wouldn’t, Caitlyn consoled herself. Their lawyer had assured them that everything was under control. A moan of horror escaped her lips at the thought of that same lawyer’s bill, sitting on the dining room table—a bill that had to be paid before he’d proceed further.

What the hell was she going to do?

She’d lied to Lazzaro about a second interview with the Mancini chain—she hadn’t even had the first interview yet. Her application was still sitting half-typed on her computer! Actually, she’d lied to Lazzaro about everything. There had been no discussion about a promotion; Malvolio had just been his usual sleazy self. She’d been sitting on her afternoon break, minding her own business, when he’d come into the coffee room and again suggested they catch up for a drink after work.

Again she’d declined.

‘You’ve got something in your hair.’

He’d come over, had stood behind her where she sat, and, as if being touched by a lizard, she’d flinched as his hand had made contact with her hair. She had screwed her eyes closed as he’d brushed something that surely wasn’t there away, wishing the horrible moment over, only the horror hadn’t even begun. The lizard had been on the move.

‘Come on, Caitlyn…stop teasing me…’

His filthy hands had crept down; she’d been able to hear his breath coming short and hard behind her.

‘I’m not teasing you…’ Her head had been spinning. The confrontation she’d dreaded—dreaded but convinced herself would never happen, that she was surely imagining things—was actually here. ‘Malvolio, you’re married…’

‘Antonia….’ His hand had moved down. ‘She is so wrapped up in herself and the baby. You and I could be so good together….’

Paralysed, she’d sat, watched his fingers sneaking at the top of her dress, her brain literally frozen. It had been like being stuck in a nightmare, where you couldn’t scream. She’d known that by doing nothing she was implying consent…and if she couldn’t speak, if she couldn’t scream, then there were two other choices that had sprung to her panicked mind: vomit or bite.

Caitlyn had chosen the latter!

She could still hear his screams of rage—hear again the vile torrent of words he’d spat at her as he’d jumped back—and, like a child, she put her hands over her ears, blocked out what he had said to her. She just didn’t want to go there right now.

How, Caitlyn begged herself as she resumed her pacing, could he think she’d teased him? She’d gone out of her way to avoid him, though she had felt his unwelcome eyes on her for months now, had done everything possible to avoid… Her eyes shuttered in wretched horror. The consequences of her resignation were starting to hit home. The prospect of going home and telling her mother that she no longer had work… Oh, a chambermaid’s wage wasn’t going to change the world, but for now at least it meant holding onto her mother’s.

A single mother, Helen Bell had done everything to provide not just for her daughter, but for her own father. When Caitlyn’s grandmother had died, two years after Caitlyn was born, concerned about her father’s declining health and mounting financial problems, Helen had moved back to the family home, working several jobs to pay the mortgage and bills and had gradually cleared his debts. It hadn’t all been a struggle, though—the home had been a happy one, with Caitlyn’s grandfather more than happy to mind his grandchild while Helen worked hard. And in later years, as his health had declined, both Helen and Caitlyn had in turn been more than happy to care for him—nursing him at home right till the end.

Caitlyn’s aunt Cheryl had rarely put in an appearance—until after the funeral. Of course the family home Helen had worked so hard to keep and pay for had been left to her. But Cheryl had had it valued—the beachside suburb close to the city was prime real estate now—and Cheryl wanted not only the generous cash sum that her father had bequeathed to her in his will, but half the value of the family home. Egged on by Roxanne and a greedy lawyer, she was moving heaven and earth to ensure that she got it.

‘Bloody Roxanne and Aunty Cheryl…’ Caitlyn hissed. Why couldn’t they just leave them alone?

The ringing of the phone halted her pacing for less than a second. Her mind was so consumed with her own problems that at first she didn’t even give it a glance.

She needed work so badly, but here it would be impossible. Lazzaro was hardly going to fire his own brother-in-law. It would be her word against his. And what about Malvolio’s poor wife? How—?

The phone resumed its shrill, and irritated now, unable to ignore it, Caitlyn picked it up.

‘Lazzaro Ranaldi’s phone. This is Caitlyn Bell speaking.’

She didn’t notice Lazzaro come in at first, just listened as a rather exasperated female voice demanded that she be put through.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Ranaldi isn’t in his office right now. But if you’d like to leave your name, as soon as he returns I’ll let him know that you called…’

Half turning, she saw him, and was just about to hand the phone over when instinct kicked in somehow. The dash of bitters in the woman’s voice was telling Caitlyn that perhaps this was one call Lazzaro might be glad to miss, so instead of handing him the receiver, she grabbed a pen and scribbled down the woman’s name. Lucy.

She even managed a little smile when he grimaced and shook his head while Lucy vented her spleen down the phone.

‘Of course,’ Caitlyn said sweetly. ‘I’ll be sure to let him know.’ Replacing the receiver, she turned to her very soon to be ex-boss. ‘You’re a bastard!’

‘Thank you for passing it on.’

‘And she knows you’re there and just refusing to talk to her.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Er, that was pretty much it,’ Caitlyn lied. Well, she was hardly going to tell him that ‘just because he’s fabulous in bed, it doesn’t make up for the way he’s treated me’. Though she did give him a rather edited version of the teary conclusion to the call. ‘She’d like you to call her—any time,’ Caitlyn emphasised. ‘Any time at all! So…’ Noticing his empty hands, she raised her eyebrows. ‘Where are the forms?’

‘In a filing cabinet.’ He gave an apologetic grimace. ‘Only I’m not sure which one…but I will write you a cheque now…’

‘A cheque’s not much good to me at this time on a Friday.’ She didn’t want to stay another second. Another second and she’d start crying; another second and she’d crumple. The brave façade she was wearing so well was seriously falling apart—the hem unravelling along with the seams—so she hitched her bag on her shoulder and headed for the door. ‘Just have it all posted to me on Monday.’

‘Caitlyn.’ His strong voice summoned her back, but she kept on walking. ‘Just listen to me for a moment. What if I were to offer you a job as my personal assistant?’

Now, that was enough to stop her in her tracks—only not enough to make her turn around.

‘Me?’

Her hand paused as it reached for the handle and Lazzaro spoke on. ‘Clearly I need someone, and you have no idea of some of the poor efforts the agency has sent. You handled that call well, you are qualified, and you are clearly…’ he gave a slightly uncomfortable cough ‘…discreet…’

‘I can’t.’

The words shot out on instinct—her dream job, everything that she’d wished for coming true, and the money, oh, God, the money would make such a difference. Only she couldn’t do it—just couldn’t do it. And bitter, so bitter, was her regret.

‘I can’t face seeing Malvolio again.’ Her voice was shrill, and still she didn’t turn around. Her hand was on the door now, but not to open it, more for support. The horrors of the day were finally catching up, the feelings she had denied, had willed herself not to examine until she was safely alone, were making searing contact with her brain now. ‘I don’t think I could stand to be…’

Silence filled the room. Only it wasn’t peaceful. It was that horrible silence of a strangled sob, the thud of reality, that moment when it all catches up and there’s nothing that can be done to push it back down—when you can’t keep smiling as if you’re stupid, when you can’t pretend that you don’t care and that it didn’t really matter that filthy hands had dirtied your life. Yes—in a while she’d no doubt be able to shrug it off; in a while she’d probably put it all into perspective and apportion the correct blame. In a while it wouldn’t matter as much as it mattered now.

But right now it mattered.

And it mattered to Lazzaro too.

Seeing her convulse—seeing this proud, strong woman wilt for a second—he found it mattered enough to propel him from his desk, to literally peel her trembling body from the door, to turn her around to face him and hold her. Like some mountain rescuer he reached her on the cliff-edge and tried to imbue her with his warmth.

‘I hate him…’ She wasn’t talking to Lazzaro; he knew that. ‘I hate him.’

‘I know.’

‘I’ll be okay soon.’ She gulped, knowing she would, just confirming it to herself. She was embarrassed now at letting him see her cry, but he held her closer as she started to pull away, and after just a second of protest she let him—let him comfort her, let him hold her as the horror slowly receded, her breathing slowing at just listening to the soothing thud of his heart in his chest.

For Lazzaro there was one inevitable end to holding a woman in his arms. The luxury of having a penthouse suite as your office meant there was a bed just a door away, and as he stared down at lips swollen from nibbling teeth and salty tears, instinct told him to kiss her—to soothe her in the way he soothed women best. Only a deeper instinct prevailed.

Morality—which was usually void—crept in. His kiss was surely not what she needed now.

Only it was.

It felt like for ever that she’d dreamt of being in his arms, but now it had happened Caitlyn found out dreams didn’t actually compare. Being held by him was so blissfully consuming, the circle of his arms so strong and safe, that nothing else could invade. She felt the shift in him, felt the shift from comfort to more, and she actually wanted him to kiss her, wanted his hands on her to erase the grubby stains Malvolio’s had left.

But he didn’t. Instead he held her for just a little bit more, held her close as she assimilated all that had taken place and put it into some sort of order, and when finally he let her go, when finally she could stand alone again, the world was certainly a nicer place than the one she’d left just moments ago.

‘Malvolio manages the housekeeping staff. He’s rarely in the office and I’m rarely here. The job would involve a lot of travel…’ His voice was low, his gaze direct as he told her he hadn’t changed his mind.

‘But even so…’ Caitlyn protested. ‘I’d still have to see him sometimes…’ Again she shook her head, but she wasn’t so certain now. Lazzaro believed her. Lazzaro knew. And he would, she was sure, sort it.

That thought was confirmed when Lazzaro spoke next. ‘He will not trouble you at all—I will go and see him and make very sure of it. You do not have to leave.’

‘I haven’t got any experience…’ She was being offered her dream job, a fast-track to what would normally take years to achieve, and even if it was foolhardy to show how woefully inadequate she was for such an esteemed position, really she had no choice.

‘You haven’t picked up any bad habits, then.’ For the first time today she saw him smile, then he gestured to the desk. ‘Sit down.’

Formality was welcome.

Formality she could actually deal with.

So she listened as he took her through her new role, blinking at the description of international flights and luxury hotels that would now pepper her existence, at a salary that made her eyes widen, and at the prospect of a life, as Lazzaro strongly pointed out, that would be basically put on hold to accommodate his.

‘My time is valuable,’ Lazzaro said, and she nodded. ‘Take today—I should not be going to Admin to get forms, and nor will you be able to. That is why you too will have an assistant. My former PA has a list of names somewhere, of people who can be put through to me without question, people who first you check and people who, like Lucy, you will have to deal with.’ He gave a tight smile. ‘At times your work will be menial, and at times it will be downright boring—such as sitting in a car waiting for me. At other times the stress and demands will be intense. Each morning we will go through my day—each week we will plan my schedule. For example, in a couple of weeks we will fly to Rome—’

‘I don’t speak Italian…’

‘Lucky for you then, that nearly all my staff in Rome speak excellent English… Still, if you do decide to remain in this position, that is something you might be wise to address.’

If she decided to remain! Who would be mad enough to leave such a fabulous job?

Lazzaro must have caught the slightly incongruous dart of her eyes.

‘I have never had a PA stay for more than a year—that is how long you will be contracted for. Towards the end of your term we will discuss your future. This is an exceptionally demanding role—and, yes, I am an exceptionally demanding boss. I have high standards, a formidable workload, and at some point you will no doubt decide that no amount of money or perks can make up for it.’

‘Is that why Jenna left?’ Caitlyn asked, because she’d heard that you should find out the reasons any position was vacant. Though when Lazzaro answered she rather wished that she hadn’t.

‘Jenna had certain demands that I wasn’t prepared to meet.’

Like monogamy? Caitlyn was tempted to say, but thankfully she didn’t—their private affair had not been so private, given it was she who had changed the sheets!

‘At some point,’ Lazzaro continued, ‘you will want to resume your own life—I accept that. However, a period of working for me will open many doors for you.’

‘I just don’t get why me, when it’s clearly such a demanding role…’ Caitlyn’s mouth was suddenly dry—she was acutely aware that she was sitting in a chambermaid’s dress, suddenly being interviewed for a plum position. ‘And though naturally I’d love the opportunity, I just don’t understand why you’d just hand it to me. If it’s because of what happened with Malvolio—’

‘After several unsuccessful interviews, I wasted yet another hour this afternoon attempting to explain to a very boutique recruitment agency my needs,’ Lazzaro interrupted. ‘Outlining what it was I was looking for in an assistant. Next week I will be paraded with a number of what they consider suitable applicants. I do not necessarily want someone who speaks fluent Italian. I do not want someone who on paper has “excellent interpersonal skills” but in reality cannot read a situation. I want someone who, without being told, writes down the name of a caller they assume might be difficult.’ His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he looked over at her. ‘I guess you just know sometimes that you’ve found the person you’re looking for.’

‘Quite!’ Caitlyn croaked, then coloured up, biting on her bottom lip, wishing she were hearing that from him somewhere other than in an interview.

‘And,’ Lazzaro continued, ‘I want someone who has the guts to be honest.’

‘I am honest…’ Caitlyn flared.

‘Just not with your bank.’ He grinned. ‘Look, I am not asking you to sign away the rest of your life. I understand that the role is too consuming, too demanding to expect longevity. But most people I interview are using this as a stepping stone—are prepared to work hard for a few months because of the doors it will open. I want someone who is prepared to work hard, full-stop. So when you are thinking of leaving—which you will—I want you to tell me.’

‘Okay…’ Caitlyn nodded, only she didn’t sound very convinced—wasn’t convinced at all, in fact, that she would ever leave. Still, maybe this was the way to get over him, she decided, looking at the multitude of positives. Maybe witnessing his legendary bloody nature first hand might just get her to put out the light on the stupid torch she’d been carrying for him.

‘Are you in a relationship?’

‘Excuse me?’ Caitlyn’s response was suitably appalled. ‘I hardly think that’s relevant.’

‘But it is,’ Lazzaro countered. ‘He is going to have to be one very patient man to accept that he’s hardly going to see you—that if this goes ahead, as of Monday, I come first!’

‘Well, I’m not in a relationship.’ Caitlyn sniffed. ‘We just broke up.’

‘Excellent.’ Lazzaro smiled. ‘How long were you together?’

‘Why? Are you worried I’m going to be crying into my tissues instead of concentrating on you?’

‘I’m just curious.’ Lazzaro shrugged. ‘Given that we’re going to be working so closely together, we’re going to get to know these things about each other.’

Hardly! Caitlyn choked back the word—she couldn’t imagine asking Lazzaro to pass the tissues as she cracked a bar of chocolate and told him that the reason she and Dominic had broken up was because—because… She closed her eyes and cringed. Because of the things she didn’t do. Because, at the ripe old age of twenty-two, she was still a virgin!

‘Purple!’ Caitlyn said instead, giving a tight smile at Lazzaro’s bemused frown. ‘I’m wearing purple knickers, before you ask, and we were together six months. He ended it, but I was actually about to. Is that enough information for you?’

‘For now…’ He gave her a very lazy smile, and stared at her for the longest time without even attempting to speak. For Caitlyn it was excruciating as she awaited what she knew was about to be a summing up. ‘You’re very…’ he paused before he delivered his verdict ‘…different.’

‘I am.’

‘Very interesting…’ Lazzaro mused.

‘I’m hard bloody work, actually!’

‘I like hard work.’ Lazzaro grinned, and she nearly shot out of her chair at the look he was giving her. ‘Well, I look forward to working with you. That will be all.’

‘Not quite.’ Caitlyn saw his frown of surprise and she took a deep breath before speaking. ‘Generally at the end of an interview the interviewee is asked if she has any questions or anything she’d like to add.’

‘Do you?’

‘Actually, yes…’ Caitlyn hesitated for a second—could absolutely hear the horrified shriek of the little devil that sat on her shoulder as she decided to be up-front. But there was no point in taking this job, no point at all, if one thing wasn’t made perfectly clear from the start. She’d heard Lazzaro was a tough and demanding boss, that he had no qualms at all about speaking his mind—loudly on occasion. That she could accept, so long as Lazzaro could accept her. ‘I admire the fact that you speak your mind. However…’ her blue eyes locked with his ‘…so do I.’

‘I’d already worked that one out,’ Lazzaro countered. ‘Though stand-up rows with my personal assistant I can do without.’

‘Oh, there’ll be no stand-up rows.’ Caitlyn smiled. ‘I’m more professional than that. But, before you formally offer me the position, you should know that I do have a tongue, and one that I’ll use if I think I’m being spoken to inappropriately—no matter how good the salary, manners cost nothing.’

Lazzaro, though his face never moved a muscle, was actually smothering a smile; listening to Caitlyn was as unique as it was refreshing—almost as if he were the one being interviewed for the job.