Читать книгу Innocent In The Boardroom: At Her Boss's Pleasure / Her Boss by Day... / How to Sleep with the Boss - Джанис Мейнард, Janice Maynard - Страница 10
ОглавлениеALESSANDRO WAS WAITING for her five days later at the first-class check-in desk at the airport.
Kate spotted him from a mile away. Not hard. He stood out even in a packed terminal, where people were either rushing around frantically or else standing in long queues with blank How much slower can this line move? stares.
He was frowning at his smartphone, scrolling through messages, leaning against the counter with a solitary, very expensive holdall on the ground next to him. The picture of understated elegance in cream trousers, a white shirt and a lightweight jacket which he had tossed on top of the holdall.
Having planned on arriving bang on time, if not early, Kate was unavoidably running late and she was hassled.
She thought her neatly pinned-back hair might be unravelling. and her suit and pumps felt stiff and uncomfortable—unsuitable for the heat here in London, never mind abroad. Lord only knew how they would fare on a long-haul flight, but she had been determined to dress appropriately because, crucially, this wasn’t a holiday.
She had allowed her rules to slip. She had found herself losing her self-control. It was going to be very important that she re-establish that self-control while she was in Toronto on this business trip.
Comfy trousers and a casual cotton jumper with loafers had thus been ruled out as suitable travel gear.
‘You’re late,’ were the first words Alessandro greeted her with as he snapped shut his phone and straightened.
‘Traffic. I’m sorry. It would have been quicker for me to have come by tube. But I’m here now, and I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.’ She managed to say all that in a cool, polite voice whilst not actually looking at him at all. ‘Have you checked in?’
‘I was waiting for you.’
‘Is that all the luggage you’ve brought?’ Kate asked incredulously.
Next to his holdall, her suitcase was the size of a small mountain—but they were going for a week, and she hadn’t quite known which clothes to take for which occasion. So she had packed to cover every eventuality.
They had found out where George was staying with his wife without actually contacting him for the information—because, as Alessandro had persisted in telling her, the element of surprise would afford him no time to start thinking up fancy stories to cover up what he had done.
Kate hadn’t said anything. Poor George. Little did he know what he was in for. Alessandro had assured her that he was prepared to listen, but was he prepared to absolve from blame and forgive?
In the world of Alessandro Preda there was no room for excuses or apologies. If you crossed him in any way retribution would be swift and unforgiving. She could only try and be the restraining hand on his arm, so to speak. It was a minor miracle that he was prepared to listen at all.
‘I’m a believer in travelling light,’ he said, checking in her suitcase and then taking his time to examine the picture in her passport, while Kate patiently waited for him to return it to her, teeth gritted. ‘I take it you’re not...?’
‘I wasn’t sure what to bring with me.’
‘So you decided to bring it all? Including the kitchen sink?’
She reddened and mumbled something about it being so much easier for guys, who could fling two things in an overnight bag and disappear abroad for a month.
She might have added that she could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she had been abroad in her entire life. She wasn’t an expert when it came to working out what to pack. Aside from confronting George and ruining his holiday, they would be visiting a potential business opportunity on the outskirts of the city—killing two birds with one stone, so to speak, which was probably partly why Alessandro had chosen to make this trip in the first place.
So, yes, work clothes... But it wasn’t really feasible to wear suits in the evenings as well, was it?
Not that she planned on spending a single one of those evenings in his company. Not one. She intended to draw some very clear and definite lines. Between nine and five she would be his employee, and after five she would disappear and do her own thing.
So she had stuffed some casual wear in her case as well. Jeans and loose, baggy tops. The woman in the tiny shorts and cropped top with the ponytail was not going to make an appearance.
‘If I need more clothes,’ Alessandro was saying, leading her through customs, handling everything so efficiently that she barely noticed them heading towards the first-class lounge, ‘then I can always buy out there. I travel so much that I can be in and out of an airport a lot faster if I don’t have to check in any luggage.’
‘Hence the holdall?’
‘Hence the holdall. Usually I bring something a lot smaller when I’m going to Europe.’
‘I can’t imagine what could be smaller,’ Kate panted, walking fast to keep pace with him. ‘A wallet?’
Alessandro chuckled and shot her an appreciative look—which she missed because she was trying to remain composed whilst half running beside him, one hand holding her neat little bun in place, the other dragging a pull-along case which she had stuffed with all sorts of useful reading matter.
‘Occasionally,’ he drawled, slowing down and veering off to the left, ‘a wallet is all a man needs. It can hold a lot more than just banknotes and credit cards...’
‘Really? Like what?’ Kate retorted sarcastically, getting her breathing back and looking sideways at him. ‘A change of outfit? Spare jacket? Pair of shoes?’
He burst out laughing, stopping and looking down at her with an unreadable expression that left her feeling a little dizzy.
‘Where have you been hiding?’
‘Sorry?’ She stared back at him, confused.
‘This witty, funny woman with the sharp tongue... Where have you been stashing her away? If I’d known she existed I would have taken some time out to try and find her...under the desk, maybe...or behind the coatrack...or in the stationery cupboard...’
Kate couldn’t help herself. She blushed and smiled and looked away, and then caught his eyes again. And all the while she was doing that she could feel her heart pick up speed.
There was still laughter in his eyes as he continued to hold her gaze. ‘A wallet,’ he murmured, his dark eyes suddenly glinting with lazy devilry, ‘can hold something that’s even more vital than cash or credit cards...’
‘What?’
‘I’ll let you think about it...’ He grinned and began walking again, pushing open the glass doors that led to the first-class lounge.
Kate paused and took stock. This was amazing. Here, the hustle and bustle of the airport terminal gave way to...well, peace, quiet...glassy counters groaning under the weight of food...men and women on their computers, comfy chairs and sofas...
‘Wow.’
Accustomed to all of this, Alessandro took a few seconds to register her expression, and he felt a weirdly heady kick at having been the one to introduce her to the experience.
‘So this is how the other half live,’ she breathed, impressed to death. ‘Am I standing out like a sore thumb?’
She looked at him anxiously and he smiled.
‘I don’t think there’s a dress code in operation here,’ he told her gently, guiding her forward and flicking their first-class passes to the well-groomed woman behind the polished curved counter.
Actually, there was. The dress code was expensive. He felt a sudden surge of protectiveness, which he dismissed as the normal reaction of a boss looking out for his employee. Having her insulted, stared at or criticized in any way was something he would not tolerate.
He ushered her to a long, low sofa, settled her down. When he asked her what she would like to drink he was amused to see her spring to her feet, eyes bright.
‘I should do the honours,’ she told him seriously. ‘You are my boss, after all...’
‘Of course,’ Alessandro murmured. ‘What was I thinking?’
So she didn’t blend in? He was suddenly contemptuous of all those unspoken rules the seriously wealthy played by. A rich diet of supermodels had blinded him to the realities that everyone else lived with. And, of all people, shouldn’t he know that the wealthy had their failings? Didn’t always conform?
He frowned, distracted by the rare intrusion of introspection. He came from wealth—had known first-hand its ups and downs, had experienced the frailty of what could be so easily taken for granted. He was secure in his own personal fortune—had made sure of that—but it struck him that he no longer looked outside the box at lifestyles that weren’t rich and privileged.
He was accustomed to his rare stratosphere because it was the one everyone he knew inhabited—including the women he dated. Although it had to be said that their passports came via their incredible looks.
She returned five minutes later with two plates heaped with various titbits, from little dainty sandwiches to cream cakes and packets of biscuits.
‘I’ve gone a little mad,’ she confessed. ‘I know it’s not cool to take a bit of everything that’s there, but I couldn’t resist.’
‘You don’t have to justify yourself to me, Kate. Take whatever you want. That’s what it’s there for. I’d bet that half the people here would love to do the same, but some warped sense of wanting to blend in and look cool stops them.’
Kate breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I’m ravenous, anyway.’
‘We could have a full breakfast if you’d rather?’
‘You’re kidding?’
‘Perfectly serious. Airlines command fat fares for first-class travellers. Frankly, hot food in their lounges is the very least one can expect.’
‘I’m fine.’ She reminded herself that she wasn’t there to have fun. Work was what was on the agenda—and not of a very pleasant nature either. ‘But thank you for the offer.’
She tucked in as delicately as possible whilst noticing that he ate next to nothing.
‘You can work if you want to,’ she contributed awkwardly. ‘You don’t have to feel that I need entertaining.’
‘I don’t.’
She reluctantly looked at the little pile of uneaten sandwiches on her plate. ‘How do you intend to...to confront George? Have you given it much thought? I know you have all the evidence compiled, but are you just going to present him with it in front of his wife?’
‘Haven’t thought that far ahead.’
‘I’d hate him to think that I might have been the one to instigate this whole sorry business,’ she admitted. ‘Although if I show up at your side I guess that’s the first thing he’ll think.’
‘Why does it matter?’ Alessandro dismissed her concern with a careless shrug. ‘So he gets the boot and puts it down to you? What’s the big deal?’
‘The “big deal” is that some of us actually care what other people think of them.’
‘Why? Will you ever see him again? His family?’
‘That’s not the point.’ She looked at him curiously. ‘How can you be so...so cold and detached?’
And he was. Despite the fact that he socialized heavily, dated women by the bucketload if office gossip and the daily tabloids were anything to go by, there was something about Alessandro Preda that remained remote and untouchable.
She shivered. Was that all part and parcel of his incredible appeal?
In the City he was feared as a ruthless competitor. Men and women alike were awed by him. Even here, as she surreptitiously slid her eyes to the side, she could see the way people checked him out. He commanded attention and took it as his right. They all knew he was rich, or else he wouldn’t be in a first-class lounge. They only wondered if he was famous—and if so famous, for what?
But, for all the attention he garnered, on some level he didn’t engage. Why was that? she wondered.
‘Trust me...cold and detached are two words that have never been used by a woman to describe me...’
And all at once Kate knew what he had been referring to with that little smile curling his lips, when he had told her that wallets held more important stuff than money and credit cards.
Condoms.
A man who could have whatever woman he wanted always had to be prepared, she thought, with a burst of cynicism.
It was incredible that she had managed to forget just what sort of a person he was. He might be remote, he might be as shallow as a puddle when it came to anything emotional, but he was also witty, intelligent, and when he focused those dark, speculative, brooding eyes on her, all her misgivings floated away like dew on a hot summer morning.
Which didn’t change the fact that he was a man who made sure he carried condoms in his wallet—because who knew when some poor good-looking girl might cross his path, hoping for more than just a one-night stand or a one-month fling with a bunch of goodbye roses when she was on her way out?
‘Well, this is one woman who’s using them now,’ Kate said coolly. ‘When we’ve confronted poor George in his hotel room and you’ve shaken him down and booted him out of your company without a backward glance, will you be able to wipe your hands and walk away without giving him a second thought? Because if you can then you’re cold and detached—and it doesn’t matter how many adoring fans tell you the opposite.’
From any other woman Alessandro would not have taken this. He had his rules and his boundaries and those were lines that were never crossed. In truth, he never really even had to lay them down. They were unwritten, unspoken and obeyed without fail.
Kate Watson—who, on the surface, promised to be as non-committal as a plank of wood—chose to disregard every single one of those boundary lines, and her rampant disobedience intrigued him and he didn’t quite know why.
Maybe it was the dichotomy between what she strove to conceal and what she was lured into revealing against her better judgement.
He might not be involved with her on a personal level, but there was something in her that aroused his interest.
‘I expect you’re going to remind me that it’s not my place to voice opinions about you or what you do...’ she muttered in a half-hearted apology.
‘We’re going to be in each other’s company for a week. If you have something to say then you might as well get it off your chest. I don’t think I can face your constant disapproval. And I’m guessing from those pursed lips that you do disapprove of me?’
‘I... No, of course I don’t...’ Her voice fell away.
‘Of course you do. You have opinions on the type of person I am, and admiration isn’t one of them. That’s something you’ve decided you’ll leave to those adoring fans of mine.’
Hot colour crawled up into her cheeks. Pursed lips. She was a woman with pursed lips and disapproval and starchy suits. He was fun. And she was the schoolmarm who always rained on his parade.
Except it wasn’t fun when there was some poor, deluded hopeful woman at the receiving end, was it?
‘I have a lot of admiration for your business acumen,’ she said stiffly. ‘They say that everything you touch turns to gold. That’s quite an achievement. I think it takes a lot to be a guy who builds all the businesses and it’s something quite different from the guy who services them. You’re the guy who builds the businesses.’
‘Not exactly adoring, though, is it...?’ he mused. ‘When it comes to accolades...?’
He enjoyed the way she blushed. It was something he had never noticed before. Like a wayward horse tugging at its reins, his mind broke its leash and zoomed back to the picture of her in those shorts, long legs going on for ever, full breasts bouncing braless in that small top.
Great body sternly kept under wraps because she had learned lessons from having a mother who was too ready to flaunt hers.
Had she ever flaunted her body for a man?
‘I don’t have to be a member of your fan club to appreciate that you’re talented at what you do.’
She wanted to tell him that this was hardly appropriate conversation, but she suspected that he didn’t give a damn what was appropriate and what wasn’t. He did what he wanted to do because he could.
If she annoyed him too much she would probably find herself next to George on a trip to never-never land.
‘But when it comes to anything that isn’t work-related your admiration levels drop off sharply—am I right?’ Her face was averted and he absently appreciated the fine delicacy of her profile. He had a sudden urge to release her long chestnut-brown hair from its ridiculous clips and pins.
‘I suppose I have different standards to you when it comes to relationships,’ she said eventually, when the silence was threatening to overwhelm her. She wasn’t looking at him, but she could feel his dark eyes boring into the side of her face.
What was this all about? He didn’t give a hoot what she thought about his personal life. Maybe he was irritated because she was being a little more forthcoming than he was used to, but her outspokenness probably amused him.
She was providing him with a different taste sensation—why not try it?
‘And tell me what those standards are...’
Kate swung to look at him and discovered that he was leaning towards her, far too close for comfort.
Dark, dark eyes with ridiculously long eyelashes clashed with hers and the breath caught in her throat. She inched back, furious with herself for feeling uncomfortable in his presence, for letting him get to her, when she had given herself a stern talk about all that nonsense before she had left her house.
‘I...’
‘You’re not going to dry up on me now, are you, Kate? When you’ve come this far?’
And just how had she managed to do that? she wondered. One minute they were striding through an airport and the next minute she had launched into a personal attack on his moral standards. Or as good as!
Trapped by her own idiocy, she frantically tried to think of a clever way to change the conversation, but he was waiting for her to say something. And not a sudden commentary on the weather or the state of the economy. No such luck. Why would he rescue her from her hideous discomfort when he could get a kick from pinning her to the wall and watching her wriggle like a worm on a hook?
‘I don’t approve of men who...use women. Maybe that’s the wrong word,’ she corrected hastily. ‘I mean I don’t approve of men who slide in and out of relationships, trying them on for size and then discarding the ones that don’t quite fit.’
‘And what about women who try men on for size?’
‘That doesn’t happen.’
‘No?’ He raised his eyebrows in a cool question. ‘Ever had a boyfriend, Kate?’
‘Of course I have!’ she said hotly. ‘And I don’t see what that has to do with anything!’
‘Where is he now?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Where is this wonder guy now?’ He peered around him, as if at any moment the man in question would stride out from where he had been hiding behind a computer terminal.
‘We... It finished...’
‘Ah.’ Alessandro sat back and linked his fingers lightly on his lap. ‘So it didn’t work out?’
‘No, it didn’t,’ Kate said uncomfortably.
‘Was it a case of him using you ruthlessly before tossing you aside on the discarded heap?’
‘No!’ she cried, as flustered as a witness sitting in the box, being picked apart by the prosecution.
‘Well, what happened, in that case?’ And now his tone had changed. Very subtly. Because he’d discovered that he was curious about this mystery guy who hadn’t chucked her on his discards pile. ‘And don’t think about launching into a little sermon about it being none of my business. You don’t seem to have too many qualms about speaking your mind, so you can answer one or two questions of your own.’
‘We broke up.’ She shrugged and tore her eyes away from his lean, aggressive face. ‘The timing was wrong,’ she admitted grudgingly. ‘I was very busy. I wasn’t in the right place to fully cultivate the relationship the way it deserved to be cultivated...’
‘Ah...so an amicable parting of ways...?’
Kate could have thought of other ways of describing their inevitable split. Amicable didn’t feature on the list.
‘So here’s the thing,’ he said, voice as smooth as silk and yet razor-sharp. ‘You seem to be under the impression that every relationship that doesn’t end in a walk up the aisle is a relationship that involves one person using the other. But life’s not like that. Yes, it may have been so for your mother, but your mother was a certain type of personality. Your mother—and I’m no expert on this—may have been searching for something, and the only way she could conduct her search was by offering what she had and hoping it got picked by the right kind of guy...’
‘You’re right. You don’t know my mother.’
‘Maybe your mother was fundamentally insecure,’ he carried on relentlessly. ‘But that doesn’t mean that everyone is like her. She’s not the benchmark.’
‘I never said she was.’
‘No?’
‘I should never have said anything,’ she breathed resentfully. ‘It’s awful when you tell someone something and they then proceed to use it against you like in a court of law.’
But didn’t he have a point? She refused to concede that he did, but her conscience nagged in a way it never had before. He had stripped her of her convenient black-and-white approach and she didn’t want that. It was easier to set a course when you weren’t distracted by grey areas and murky questions.
‘It’s not about the outcome,’ she muttered in a driven voice. ‘It’s about the intent.’
‘Explain.’
‘I don’t want to be having this conversation.’ She gazed at the tepid coffee in her cup and wished she had something to fiddle with. ‘Maybe we ought to find out whether we should be boarding. Or something.’
‘They’ll call us when it’s time for us to board the plane. Relax.’
She was as tense as a bowstring, her body rigid. So much emotion contained behind that bland exterior. He reached out and brushed his finger against the soft skin on the underside of her wrist and she tensed.
And he tensed.
Electric. Unexpected. A high-voltage charge that suddenly ran between them.
He withdrew his hand quickly. ‘You initiate conversations,’ he said coolly, ‘and when the going gets a little tricky you back away because you’re too scared to carry on. Weren’t you ever taught to finish what you start?’
The lazy teasing had gone, wiped out by that ferocious assault on his senses when he had casually touched her. Watching and speculating was one thing. But what he had felt just then, when he had briefly touched her...
It had felt like a loss of control. For a couple of seconds he had been knocked back by a reaction he had not expected. Curiosity had stoked his libido, but now...now he felt something as powerful as a depth charge. The shock of the unexpected jacked his responses into full alert. For once, toying with the idea of a woman in his bed seemed a dangerous adventure not to be undertaken.
‘Okay...’ Kate surreptitiously rubbed her wrist where his finger had been. ‘If you really want to know, there’s a difference between starting a relationship in the hope that it’ll develop into something and starting a relationship knowing that it’s going to crash and burn when you decide it’s time to move on.’
‘And I’m a crash-and-burn guy...?’
She shrugged and he stared her down, his dark eyes cool, his expression unreadable.
Was he storing away everything she said to be used at a later date? Did he even care one way or another what she said? She decided that, no, he probably didn’t. He wasn’t the kind of guy who would tolerate personal comments on his moral choices. She couldn’t picture any woman sitting him down with a cup of tea and sharing her opinions on his ethics and his principles. They might have a rant when he chucked them over for a new model, but that was different.
Yet here he was now, waiting for her to say something. If he didn’t care about her opinions he wouldn’t be allowing her this leeway. Would he?
‘Sort of... I guess... It’s not for me to say...’
‘Easy to make assumptions, isn’t it?’ he said softly. ‘You criticized me for making assumptions about how your background influenced you...yet here you are... A bit hypocritical, wouldn’t you say?’
The question hung in the air between them. Suddenly it felt as though they were the only two people sitting here. Background noise—not that there was much of that—faded, until she could almost hear the beating of her own heart.
It had been easy to tell herself that she could redefine the lines between them. Sitting here, she couldn’t understand how those good intentions had been swept aside so fast and so completely.
‘If you can’t take the heat,’ Alessandro drawled, ‘then you should stay out of the kitchen. You think it’s okay to offer your opinions on what you imagine my personal life is like...? Well, it’s a two-way street...’
He beckoned across a young girl who was on the hunt for empty plates and glasses and asked her to fetch him a cup of black coffee, and all the while his eyes remained fastened on Kate’s flushed face.
‘But I’m glad you brought this up,’ he continued, obviously not getting the vibes she was transmitting, ‘because, like I said, a week of constant silent disapproval isn’t what I need...’
‘I didn’t have to come,’ Kate muttered.
‘But here you are. And, incidentally, you actually did have to come. You had to come because I requested it. So, now we’re having this cosy little chat, let me fill you in on your misconceptions. I don’t pick women up and drop them, having led them up the garden path. I don’t make promises I have no intention of fulfilling in exchange for sex.’
Kate stared mutinously at the ground, wishing it would do her a favour and open up and swallow her.
She was being chastised. Like a misbehaving kid in a classroom.
‘Trust me—I don’t have to do that.’
Coffee was brought to him and Kate noticed the way the young girl half curtseyed and stared at him, goggle-eyed. He might make noises about not wanting to be treated like royalty, and laugh because maybe he really did mean it, but he was treated like royalty.
‘So you don’t leave any broken hearts behind you?’ she finally asked, prompted into filling the silence.
He looked at her thoughtfully.
‘Maybe I do,’ he mused. ‘But through no fault of my own.’
Kate’s mouth fell open. Talk about ditching responsibility! Her face must have revealed what was going through her head, but this time he relaxed, sipped the coffee that had been brought to him and smiled.
‘I don’t want commitment and I never pretend that I do,’ he said, and she bit down hard on the ready retort rising to her lips. ‘I lay my cards on the table from the start.’
‘And what would those cards happen to be?’ Kate asked politely. She thought that they probably came from the same deck that all commitment-phobes used.
‘No strings attached. I tell them from the outset that I’m in it for fun. I give them the opportunity to walk away.’
How considerate.
‘No sleepovers...no cosy nights in in front of the telly...no knick-knacks in the bathroom...’
‘That’s a lot of rules,’ Kate said truthfully. ‘And then what happens?’
‘What do you mean?’ Alessandro frowned in puzzlement, because how much clearer could he get with his explanation?
‘What if some of the rules get broken? I mean, what if one of your dates decides that she’d rather stay in than go out. But, no... I suppose those supermodel types love the camera, so why would they ever want to do something as boring as staying in...?’
Alessandro grinned but didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. Why would any woman want to go out when they had the option of staying in a bed with him? Kate could read that clearly from his wicked grin.
‘My rules don’t get broken,’ he murmured with soft assurance. ‘And if they do then it spells the end of a relationship. And now that we’ve cleared that up...’ He leaned forward to flip open his laptop, which had been resting on the table in front of them.
Now that he had cleared that up she was dismissed—along with her opinions.
