Читать книгу His Forbidden Conquest: A Moment on the Lips / The Best Mistake of Her Life / Not Just Friends - Aimee Carson, Kate Hoffmann - Страница 14

ON TUESDAY morning, Carenza was working through a set of figures when an unexpected visitor arrived.

‘Nonno!’ She threw her arms round her grandfather. ‘Come and sit down.’

It felt slightly odd to be the one behind the desk she’d visited her grandfather sitting at during her childhood, but he didn’t seem to mind.

‘I see you’ve made changes to the artwork in the office,’ Gino said with a smile.

‘It’s one of the three pictures I brought back from Amy’s. The other two are upstairs in my flat.’

‘It’s …’ He was clearly searching for a diplomatic word. ‘Bright.’

Dante had been much less tactful in his reaction. Especially when she’d suggested using prints of the artist’s work in the shops and the ice cream caffè.

‘Sorry, Nonno. It’s your office. I shouldn’t be making changes.’ She bit her lip.

‘Tesoro, it’s your office now. You arrange it however you like.’ Though there was a slight trace of worry in his voice when he asked, ‘Is that what you had in mind when you said you were changing the pictures on the walls in the shops?’

Not after Dante’s comments, it wasn’t. ‘No. But we’ve been here for over a hundred years. It’s our USP, really, that I’m the fifth generation of Toniellis to run the shops. So I thought it might be nice for our customers to see photographs of how things used to be when the business first started.’

Gino looked pleased. ‘That’s a good idea.’

‘So I thought maybe you, Nonna and I could look through all the old photos, some time soon, and pick the ones we like best. Starting with your great-grandfather.’ She paused. ‘And including Papa.’

‘Including Pietro.’ There was a suspicious sheen in his eyes. She knew exactly how he felt. Every time she thought of her parents, it made her catch her breath and her eyes feel moist, too. Ridiculous, after all this time. She’d spent much more of her life without them than with them. Three-quarters of it, if you were counting. But she still missed them.

‘Can I get you some coffee, Nonno?’

‘That would be lovely, piccola.’

She made coffee for both of them, and retrieved a tin of cannoli wafers filled with chocolate-hazelnut spread from the bottom drawer of her desk. ‘My secret vice. Help yourself.’

‘Thank you. So how are you getting on, tesoro?’ Gino asked.

‘Fine. I’m enjoying it.’

‘Emilio tells me you’ve been asking him lots of questions.’

There was a slight edge to her grandfather’s tone—something she’d never known before—and it put her on full alert. Was Mancuso trying to make trouble between them? ‘Well, I guess I have—I’ve been trying to get to know the business properly. If I’ve been a nuisance, then I’m sorry. I’ll try not to bother him so much in future.’

‘It’s not that.’ Gino paused. ‘He feels you don’t trust him.’

Help. How did she answer that?

Obviously her expression did it for her, because her grandfather sighed. ‘Emilio’s a good man, Carenza. He’s looked after the business for the last five years, been my right-hand man for many years more than that. He doesn’t deserve to be treated like this.’

Carenza wasn’t so sure, but she had no proof to back up her feelings. And a hunch wasn’t enough.

Dante’s voice echoed in her head. Gather all your facts, first.

As if her grandfather could read her mind, he said, ‘I hear you’ve been seeing Dante Romano.’

‘He’s my business mentor,’ she explained. Her grandfather didn’t need to know the rest of it.

‘You do know he wanted to buy the business?’

‘Yes, which makes him the best person I could ask.’ She gave an expressive shrug. ‘You know what they say. Keep your friends close, and your enemies even closer.’ Not that Dante was her enemy. Even when they didn’t see eye to eye.

Gino raised an eyebrow. ‘Be careful, tesoro.’

‘You’re warning me off him?’

‘Not in business. Dante’s as straight as they come. But don’t lose your heart to him. As soon as he sees wedding bells in a girlfriend’s eyes, he leaves her.’

‘I’m not his girlfriend.’ And she certainly wasn’t telling her grandfather about that side of her relationship with Dante. That was just between her and Dante.

‘Just be careful. And don’t break his heart, either.’

She looked at him, hurt. ‘How do you mean?’

‘You’re not one to settle.’

Did he know about what had happened in London, last year? she wondered. If Dante knew, anyone else could find out, too, and tell her grandfather. Not Dante—she knew he’d never undermine her like that. But if Mancuso had any idea … Playing for time, she said, ‘I don’t understand, Nonno.’

‘It’d be easy for a man to lose his heart to you, tesoro. You’re sweet and you’re beautiful,’ he said. ‘But you’re twenty-eight years old and you still haven’t found the man you want to settle down with. And Dante Romano had a rough time, as a kid.’

That didn’t surprise her. It would explain why he was so self-contained, why he didn’t let people close. And yet she knew he was close to his mother and his sister. ‘What do you mean by “a rough time”, Nonno?’

Gino shook his head. ‘It’s not for me to talk about.’

And she was pretty sure that Dante wouldn’t tell her. ‘He said you gave him a chance, when he was younger,’ she said.

‘I gave him a job.’ Gino flapped his hand dismissively.

‘I get the impression it was more than that.’

‘And a little advice when he bought the first restaurant.’

‘Exactly. He feels he owes you. That’s why he’s mentoring me.’

‘Hmm. Well, just be careful,’ Gino said.

Carenza was still seething about the way Emilio Mancuso had gone to her grandfather behind her back when she called in at Dante’s office for her mentoring session on Wednesday evening.

He took one look at her. ‘I’m feeding you first. You need carbs.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘No, you’re not. Trust me to order for you?’

‘Anything except clams.’ She pulled a face.

‘That’s a shame, because Mario’s been experimenting with pasta vongole—it has a chilli kick and it’s seriously good.’

‘Really not clams, please,’ she repeated.

Rosemary bread and olives helped settle her temper; the pasta Alfredo, followed by a rich beef stew with tiny new potatoes and steamed mangetout, helped even more.

And then Dante gave her ice cream.

She tasted it gingerly. ‘Not as good as mine,’ she said, though she finished the bowl—the sugar rush was just what she needed to get rid of the last bit of her bad mood. ‘I think you need to change your supplier.’

‘Do you have anyone in mind?’

He was teasing her, and she knew it. She smiled. ‘I might do.’

‘Give me a quote, and we’ll talk about it.’ His smile faded. ‘Talking of quotations—I heard back from your supplier.’

‘And? ‘

Without comment, Dante cleared away the plates, then placed the quotation in front of her.

She stared at it. ‘But—that’s an awful lot less than they’re charging me.’

‘I thought it might be,’ he said.

‘Is this why my business is going downhill? This is what you thought when you said it was more than just the recession?’

‘It’s one of the reasons,’ he said. ‘But what’s really worrying me is what you told me on Saturday—that your input is going up when your output is going down. It’s not as if your business is something like a bakery, where you have to throw out unsold bread and pastries because they’re stale, or sandwich shops where you have to get rid of the fillings because they’re perishable and food hygiene rules demand it. By definition, gelati’s frozen. It doesn’t go off from one day to the next. Unless you have a freezer break-down—when you’d be throwing out everything and your losses would be insured in any case—there’s no reason why you should throw the leftover gelati away each day. And I’m pretty sure you don’t.’

She absorbed his words—and what he hadn’t said explicitly really shocked her. ‘You think someone’s cheating us?’

He was silent.

‘Mancuso?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘But why? How?’

He spread his hands. ‘At this stage, it’s only a suspicion. I don’t have the proof to back it up. But I’d advise you to take a close look at your business processes. When the ingredients are delivered, who checks them in and checks against the invoices that everything’s there?’

‘I’m not sure. So you think there might be fake invoices? Or Mancuso’s ordering more ingredients than he should, then taking the excess and selling it on elsewhere?’

‘Either of them is a possibility. And, when the ice cream’s made, how do you know where it goes?’

‘I don’t know. And I should know.’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘I hate the thought that he’s doing this. Nonno trusts him.’

‘You don’t know for sure it’s him—and you can’t accuse him without having the facts.’

‘So it could be someone else in the business?’ She bit her lip. ‘Did you know Nonno gives all the staff an extra week’s wages at Christmas? And he does it at the end of November, so they have enough time to go out and buy Christmas presents and what have you.’ She sighed. ‘And most of the staff have been there for years. I hate thinking that I can’t trust anyone.’

‘Trust no one. It’s a pretty good business rule.’

She shook her head. ‘No, it’s not. It’s cynical and horrible.’

‘You’re being naïve, Caz.’

She rested her elbows on the table and put her face in her hands. ‘I can’t take this in. And how the hell am I going to tell Nonno?’

‘Wait until you have proof of who it is and what they’re doing. Then you can decide what to do next.’

‘God, this is such a mess. And you know I was looking at the invoices and what have you? Mancuso went to Nonno and complained about me—he says that I don’t trust him.’

‘Well, you don’t,’ Dante pointed out. ‘I take it Gino wasn’t happy about it?’

‘No. He actually came down to the shop to see me, yesterday, and told me that Mancuso deserves better.’ He’d warned her off Dante, too—not that she was going to tell him that.

‘Better tread carefully, Princess.’

‘“One may smile, and smile, and be a villain,”‘ she quoted bitterly.

‘So you really think Mancuso’s at the bottom of this?’

‘I don’t know. Part of me thinks he’s resentful because he feels he should’ve stayed as manager and I should just be a—well, a figurehead, someone who clip-clops around in designer heels.’

He stole a kiss. ‘You have to admit, you do do that.’

‘But there’s more to me than just my shoes. I don’t want to be a figurehead. I want to run Tonielli’s properly. And I want people to take me seriously.’ She sighed. ‘I guess I’m just going to have to make my peace with Emilio Mancuso. Somehow.’

‘Like I told you before, don’t rush into anything,’ he advised. ‘Be polite. And stay wary.’

Like Dante was, himself? she wondered. ‘Are you still going dancing with me on Saturday?’

He gave her a pained look, as if he hoped she’d forgotten about it. ‘I guess so.’

‘Good. Because, right now, I think I need that.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘I know a very good way of releasing tension.’

‘Yeah.’ Except she knew he wasn’t going to let her cuddle up to him afterwards. Or let her spend the night. And she needed to think things through: how she was going to persuade Dante to let this thing between them grow. From where she was standing, she thought it had potential. Huge potential. But he was stubborn, and until she could work out why he was so resistant to any kind of relationship, she was going to back off.

Temporarily.

Didn’t they say that absence made the heart grow fonder? Maybe abstinence would do the same. ‘I’d better leave you in peace. I’ll see you on Saturday.’ She kissed him briefly. ‘Ciao.’ And then she left, before her hormones weakened her resolve and she let him carry her to bed.

Carenza had hoped that she’d given Dante time to think about them. But over the next couple of days she had a nasty feeling that she’d overplayed her hand and he was having second thoughts. Especially about going dancing with her on Saturday night. Maybe dropping into his office unannounced with a box of gianduja, with some trumped-up query, might give her the chance to remind him that she was doing the mentoring, next session.

When she got to the restaurant, the manager told her that Dante wasn’t there. ‘But Signora Ricci may be able to help you,’ he said.

Dante’s secretary, Carenza presumed. He certainly hadn’t mentioned her; and Carenza had never been to his office in conventional business hours, so of course she wouldn’t know any of his staff. And Dante Romano was the kind of man who gave information on a need-to-know basis. He’d obviously decided that she didn’t need to know anything about his secretary.

Hesitantly, she rapped on the door. ‘Signora Ricci?’

The woman sitting at the desk was in her early forties and perfectly groomed. Carenza had a feeling that she might turn out to be the dragon secretary type, who’d protect her boss from every interruption.

Signora Ricci looked up from her desk. ‘Can I help you?’

‘I was looking for Dante.’

‘I’m afraid he’s not here. I can take a message, if you wish.’

‘It’s OK. I’ll email him.’ She paused. ‘But I did bring him this.’ She handed the foil-covered box to Signora Ricci.

‘May I say who left it?’

‘I’m sorry, forgive my manners. I’m Carenza Tonielli. His, um—mentee, I guess.’

‘Ah. You’re Carenza.’

Dante had talked to his secretary about her? What had he said?

She blew out a breath. ‘I know I’m taking up too much of his time. I just brought him some gianduja to say thank you for all the help he’s been giving me. It isn’t nearly enough, but …’ She spread her hands. ‘You can hardly send a man flowers, and taking him out to dinner, when he owns a chain of restaurants, feels a bit … well … wrong.’

Signora Ricci nodded.

Was that a slight softening in her face, or was it just wishful thinking? Carenza decided to take a chance. ‘Actually, you might be the person to help me. Have you worked for him for very long?’

‘About eight years. Why?’

‘Because I’ve known him for a month now and I still don’t have a clue what he likes—I don’t even know what kind of music he listens to. I know he’s my mentor and this is strictly business, but by now surely I should know more of what makes him tick?’

‘Not necessarily. He keeps himself very much to himself,’ Signora Ricci said.

And getting information out of him was like pulling teeth. ‘I want to do something nice for him, but I don’t know what. Maybe take him out somewhere nice.’ Carenza wrinkled her nose. ‘But he hates films, so he probably wouldn’t like the theatre much, either.’

‘He hates anything that he thinks is pretentious,’ Signora Ricci said.

‘You’re telling me. You should’ve heard him about the art I was going to put in Tonielli’s,’ Carenza said dryly. ‘So do you have any idea where I can find something really good to say thank you, something he’d never think of doing for himself because—well, he always puts himself last—but he’d really, really like?’

Signora Ricci gave her an appraising look. ‘You know, you’re not what I expected.’

Carenza had a pretty good idea what the older woman had thought of her. ‘A princess, you mean?’

Signora Ricci looked embarrassed. ‘Yes.’

‘I could shake him when he calls me that. Except he’s been really good to me. He didn’t have to help me, but he’s been brilliant. And patient.’

Signora Ricci raised an eyebrow and laughed. ‘Dante, patient?’

Carenza thought of the way he’d ripped off her knickers, and blushed. ‘Sometimes.’

‘Well, I’m Mariella.’ Signora Ricci extended her hand. ‘Nice to meet you, Carenza.’

‘You, too, Mariella.’ Carenza shook her hand warmly. ‘So, can you give me any ideas of the sort of things he likes?’

‘Did you know it’s his birthday soon?’

‘No. He never said a word to me.’ And Carenza had a feeling he was going to downplay it. Not because he had issues about his age, but because he never spoiled himself, never took time for fun. A crazy idea formed in her head; the more she tried to suppress it, the more insistent it became. ‘Can I ask you something mad—and ask you not to say anything to him?’

‘That depends,’ Mariella said carefully.

‘He’s been my mentor, teaching me how to be a serious businesswoman. I want to do a bit of mentoring in reverse, and teach him to have fun.’ Taking it much further than she’d planned for tomorrow night.

‘First, you’ll have to get him to stop working for long enough,’ Mariella said dryly.

‘This is where my mad idea comes in. Knowing Dante, he’ll be working on his birthday. So is there any chance you can move his meetings for that day and the next, and block out the whole time for me instead—but without telling him?’

‘And what exactly are you planning to do with him?’ Mariella asked.

Carenza told her, and Mariella smiled. ‘He’ll have a hissy fit on you.’

‘No, he won’t. You know how he hates people talking about him. When he finds out, he’ll be in an airport. Among loads of people. He’s not going to make a scene.’

‘You’re devious.’ Mariella gave her an approving look.

‘I’ll need his passport. I can hardly ask him to bring it with him. Oh, and there’s packing.’

‘I can sort that out for you,’ Mariella said. ‘Tell me what you need, and I’ll make sure everything’s ready in a case under my desk.’

‘That’s fantastic. Thank you so much.’

‘One other thing. He always spends his birthday evening with his family.’

Ah. Carenza hadn’t thought of that. ‘Then I guess I ought to run this by them first.’

‘I can’t give you his mother’s number. But if I accidentally leave my contacts book open on my computer and go to the toilet, I can’t help it if you’re incredibly nosey and look on my screen, can I?’

Carenza laughed. ‘And you say I’m devious?’ She gave the secretary a high five. ‘Thank you, Mariella. This is going to be perfect.’