Читать книгу Valenti's One-Month Mistress - Sabrina Philips, Sabrina Philips - Страница 8

CHAPTER THREE

TAKE up where she’d left off? Her chest constricted at the thought. As Faye reeled from his ultimatum and all it spelled for Matteson’s, that was the only thing her brain seemed capable of processing. Surely he didn’t mean—? She shook herself. He was talking about her work experience. Yet even the thought of living back here at Il Maia, where she had spent the best and worst four weeks of her life, filled her with alarm. Where would that leave her at the end of the month? How could she see this man every day when she was torn between wanting to scratch that triumphant smile from his lips and wanting to taste them?

It seemed a foregone conclusion that she was ruined whether she accepted his ridiculous proposal or not. Doubling the turnover within such a short space of time was near impossible. Yet refusing his offer was out of the question. For if she did she’d be willing to bet he’d make sure Matteson’s folded in double-quick time, just so he could pick up the pieces, work his multimillion-dollar magic and then flaunt his success in her face.

‘I suppose the fact that what you expect me to achieve within a month is impossible is part of the joke?’

She watched his lean fingers with their neatly shaped nails stroking the stem of his wine glass ominously. His eyes rested threateningly upon her, as if she were his prey and the slow kill was his preference.

‘I never joke about business. You asked for my help. These are my conditions.’ His arrogance was almost tangible. He sat completely still. It only seemed to emphasise that, to him, this whole affair was barely worth his energy.

‘This is a game to you, isn’t it?’

‘Life is a game.’

‘People’s livelihoods are at stake.’

‘Then win.’

Faye leaned back in her chair, feeling the pulse throb at her temples. ‘Could I not have the full sum now? Have the renovations well underway by the time I return?’ She subconsciously shook her head as her mind tried to fathom some way of achieving the unachievable.

‘Ahh, what a surprise. Miss Matteson is both loath to wait and unable to see that the priceless offer of working with me is worth more than any payout.’

‘You always did have the most monumental ego.’

‘And yet you have come back for more?’

Faye glowered at him.

‘Silence, Faye? Just when I was growing so fond of your new spirit.’

Anger bubbled within her veins like volcanic lava, and her eyes dropped to her glass of water. She was racked with a sudden desire to see it splashed all over his smouldering features. Only the buzz of other diners made her hesitate. He second-guessed her.

‘Go right ahead,’ he challenged, as her eyes darted around the room. ‘You think it will hurt my reputation? You’re the one who will be working here. I, on the other hand, am used to the childish behaviour of clients unable to control themselves when they do not get their own way.’

‘And what about when you don’t get your own way, Dante? You blackmail your clients until they do?’ Faye rose, placing her serviette on the table.

‘Blackmail?’ He made it sound as if she’d just accused him of murder. ‘I think you’ll find I’ve offered you a lifeline.’

She’d hate to see him offer the opposite.

‘Sit, Faye.’ Could he be any more patronising? ‘If you walk away, my offer is withdrawn, and the day you go under I will be there—waiting. I will offer you even less than the site is worth, and you will be forced to accept. Now, sit down.’

His tone was low and silky, and the effect it had upon the muscles in her legs would have made the decision for her even if the cold truth of his words had not. Slowly she resumed her seat, her face stony. She could not bring herself to look up at the expression of self-satisfied triumph he undoubtedly wore.

‘Dessert.’ She was grateful for the interruption as the waiter positioned large plates in front of them.

‘Torta di Ricotta,’ Dante announced.

Faye did not answer him. She could be eating ambrosia, the food of the gods, and it would still taste bitter to her.

‘You imagine that Matteson’s will be able to cope without me?’

‘Presumably someone has been running it the last couple of days.’

Technically, Faye’s mother was in charge of the restaurant in her absence, but whilst Josie Matteson was desperate to see Matteson’s restored to its former glory, she had always played a supportive role. In reality the workload would be spread between the head waitress and the chef. She trusted them both, but it was far from ideal.

‘Do not tell me that you, who are so critical of my ego, consider yourself indispensable, Faye? I can assure you, you are not.’

No, she doubted any woman was indispensable to Dante Valenti. How long had it been after he had walked away from her bed before he had taken another lover. Hours? Days?

‘Impetuous change may be part and parcel of your hectic lifestyle, Dante, but I can assure you it is a rare thing for us lesser mortals.’

‘Ah, but when there is opportunity you are only too eager?’

‘Not on this occasion.’

‘And how coincidental that your reluctance comes when it means not getting your cash at the click of your fingers.’

‘I can assure you that my reluctance has nothing to do with your money and everything to do with you.’

‘And yet you used to be so keen for both?’ His voice was husky now, and Faye almost dropped the first spoonful of dessert that she had taken. ‘Or has it slipped your mind that you once begged me to make love to you?’

So he was not going to let her forget it. Though she had been trying to prevent herself reliving that fateful afternoon since the moment she had arrived, he had every intention of using it against her. She sank back in her chair, feeling defeated.

It had been the first of August. Saturday. She would never forget the date. The evening before they had worked ceaselessly to meet a deadline, with Faye sketching idea after idea for the new hotel brochure. Production meetings had run late into the night. Not that Faye had noticed the unsociable working hours. She had been too exhilarated that she was a part of all this.

In fact, even during her time off she’d caught herself wishing she were back at the office, with that feeling of awareness zipping around her veins at a double-quick pace just at knowing he was close by, which quadrupled when he looked at her. And there had been many times in the course of the last four weeks, unbelievable though it was, when she had caught him doing just that. And not in the way that an employer usually looked at his employee. More in the way an art lover might examine the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. But he would always look away the moment she noticed, his brows furrowed, as if he had really been contemplating some complex business problem and had just alighted upon the answer. Which had left Faye caught between believing she was too young and too awkward for him to see her as anything other than the teenage girl she was, and sensing something else within him that he seemed reluctant to acknowledge.

‘Faye?’ He had spoken her name as if coaxing a child from sleep. She’d finished off the section of the cover design she was working on and attempted to steady the pounding of her heart before looking up to see him standing before her desk.

‘I’m almost done.’

‘It’s late.’ He looked at his watch and raised his eyebrows. ‘It’s the weekend, and I’ve been working you like a Trojan. Go and get some rest.’

Faye’s eyelids did indeed feel heavy. ‘OK. I’ll pop back tomorrow morning—get this finished before Monday.’

‘No, you won’t,’ he said, his voice insistent. ‘You deserve a break. Go out—soak up Rome at the weekend.’

Faye nodded hesitantly. She had taken herself out on a sightseeing bus tour the weekend after she had arrived, but magnificent though the sights were, seeing them by herself, without anyone to share her amazement, had somehow diminished their appeal.

‘Perhaps.’

It was then that Dante looked around the room thoughtfully, at the rest of his team slowly packing up and making their ways home.

‘I suppose there isn’t really anyone else here your age.’ His expression was guilty. ‘I’m sorry.’

Faye knew it was true, although it was not something that had bothered her. Until he had pointed out how young she was again. She didn’t feel young.

And then he said it.

‘I could always show you the sights tomorrow, if you like.’

And those words changed everything.

For the Dante who was waiting for her in the lobby the next morning—a Dante without the immaculately pressed suits he wore to work—was everything she had hoped for and more besides. It felt as if somehow they were equal, like any other couple getting lost amongst the crowds. For not only did he make the sights come alive—from the wonder of Vatican City to the Baroque fountains hidden amongst the lesser-known ancient sights—he also had insisted she experience the intimate trattorie, the sensational boutiques in Piazza di Spagna.

She marvelled at their windows, not daring to go in. Until he called her over to one particularly exclusive display and she saw the most exquisite red evening gown she could ever have imagined. The kind most women never got to wear, let alone own.

‘Go in,’ he commanded, sensing her appreciation. ‘Try it on.’

‘Oh, Dante—don’t be ridiculous. Why would I try on a dress like that? The assistants will only have to take one look at me to know that I don’t have the money to even buy the hanger, let alone an occasion to wear the dress.’

‘Nonsense,’ he said, as if she had just suggested the earth was flat.

And the sudden understanding of just how powerful and how rich Dante really was began to seep in as she was ushered to a fitting room that was so large it could have given the entire upstairs in her parents’ house a run for its money.

The dress fit like a glove, but it was with some trepidation that she stepped out, feeling like a peasant masquerading as a princess. Slowly he turned around, and then did a double-take, as if to check it was really her. She hadn’t anticipated that it would be the way he looked at her rather than the dress itself that would make her feel as if her whole body was glowing. But she knew she wanted to bottle the feeling and keep it for ever.

‘Faye…bella,’ he said guardedly, his voice a purr. ‘You look …’ He shook his head like a man torn and turned to the shop assistant. ‘We’ll take it.’ The woman smiled from ear to ear and waltzed off to the till.

‘Dante, what are you doing?’ Faye protested under her breath, trying not to move for fear she might damage the priceless gown. ‘I can’t afford this!’

‘Think of it as a thank you for all your hard work,’ he said abruptly, avoiding looking directly at her. ‘Now, go and get changed.’

And, despite her protestations, Dante paid for the dress before she even emerged from the changing room.

Feeble though it was in comparison, she insisted she buy him a gelato in return. Puzzled by her insistence, he reluctantly agreed—on the condition that he take her to the best place to sample delicious ice cream. But just as they were approaching the winding street he had in mind, the heavens opened.

By the time they had run back to Il Maia, her hand reaching for his to stop them losing one another in the crowds of shoppers, her light summer dress was soaked through and stuck to her body, and his pale shirt was clinging to his broad chest, his jeans moulded to his lean hips. Finally they reached her room, and, breathless and laughing, she unlocked the door and flew in.

Dante hesitated in the doorway.

‘My apartment’s only a few blocks away. Let me head back and get changed. I’ll meet you downstairs.’

‘Dante, it’s raining even more heavily now—here, have a towel.’ Faye slipped off her shoes and flitted through to the bathroom. He stood there, poised like a man who had been asked to do a bungee jump without a rope.

‘No, Faye, I shouldn’t—’

‘Come on, you’ll get cold.’ Faye pulled him into the room, laughing, and put the towel around his shoulders, shutting the door behind him.

And the moment the catch clicked shut, something snapped. The air in the room changed, and her naturally quick movements seemed to slow as she became conscious of every move her body made. The smell of rain mixed with her faint floral perfume and his musky cologne. Their damp clothes seemed to long to be removed. She was thrilled at being caught out by nature, as if it was urging them to come together.

She stood before him, the intensity of the look he gave her making her nipples peak beneath the wet cotton of her dress. His silence was unbearable.

‘Let’s get out of these clothes,’ she said, reaching her arm behind her back, turning around. ‘Help me with this zip.’

He did not answer, but she felt him move behind her and his hands begin to release her dress, agonisingly avoiding contact with her skin. Faye heard her breathing fall in time with his. It was as if those lingering glances had reached fever pitch and there could be no more looking away. Faye…bella. The words echoed around her mind, refusing to be forgotten, and her body was crying out for him as the rivulets of water ran over her body, mingling with its own heat.

‘Touch me, Dante.’

She did not know where the words came from. She whispered them in a voice she did not recognise as her own—knew only that she needed him in a way she had never understood needing anything before. His warm breath stirred the hairs on the back of her neck, but still he did not move.

‘Please.’ She turned round to face him and looked up at him, her eyes wide, imploring. ‘Please, touch me,’ she urged.

Dante drew in a ragged breath, his eyes boring into her with unfathomable intensity. She saw his hands move up as if to encircle her waist, and then drop to his sides again.

‘I want…’ Her voice was bolder now, seeing his temptation. ‘I want you to make love to me.’

‘Damn you, you little temptress,’ he bit out, his voice thick as he shook his head slowly. ‘Don’t you know what you do to me?’

She nodded slowly, her lips parted. And then he raised his head and looked deep into her eyes for one final moment, before he brought his mouth crushing upon her own.

And it was then that Faye truly learned what it was to be touched. To feel the exquisite pleasure of being claimed by the man you loved in the most intimate way there was. And the sudden searing of pain was replaced by a mounting pleasure which exploded with all the unexpected welcome of a late-afternoon storm. A sensation which, to Faye, was only surpassed by the feeling of lying beneath a cool white sheet, with Dante just inches away afterwards, and the sound of the easing rain outside the window. The sound of his breathing was steady and deep.

‘Couldn’t you just stay here for ever?’ she whispered.

It was the eye of the storm she had never seen coming.

‘I thought you had got everything you wanted.’

Faye’s face crumpled. She didn’t know what he was supposed to say afterwards, but she knew that wasn’t it. Seconds before he had been crying her name in ecstasy—and now? Now the harshness of his tone made it sound as if he almost despised her.

Faye rolled away from him, whipping the sheet around her. ‘What are you talking about?’ She suddenly felt as if she was playing a complicated game and no one had told her the rules.

‘I’m talking about little girls who cast all dignity aside the minute they get a taste of the high life.’ He glanced towards the designer bag containing the dress and curled his lip in distaste. ‘Those who are so hot for a man they do not see the value of their virtue amidst their haste to lose it.’

He swung his legs over the bed, shameless in his nakedness, and reached for his damp jeans.

‘You came here to learn, bella? Then today you learn this is not the kind of behaviour which makes a man stay anywhere. Why would he, when he has taken all that is worth taking?’

And with that he scooped up the rest of his clothes and headed towards the door. Suddenly it didn’t feel like a game at all.

‘What are you talking about?’ she repeated helplessly, searching his face, willing him to take the words back.

‘Your true colours, sì?’ he said with finality before closing the door calmly behind him.

As Faye stared helplessly at the door, nausea rising in her belly, she felt her heart break in two. Felt all the humiliation of loving so blindly, of discovering just why it all felt so unreal. Because it was. Every moment, from the instant they had met until now, turned sour in her mind, as if someone had poured acid into her brain. And something changed irrecoverably within her. Not because she had just made love to a man for the first time in her life. But because all her foolish childhood dreams had just crashed out through the door with him. She had wanted to give herself to him, and he detested her for it. How could she have got it so wrong?

Faye choked back the sobs as realisation seeped in, and suddenly she was caught by a need to get dressed—as if angry at her own body, determined to cover its nakedness. The open wardrobe caught her eye, with its skirts and blouses neatly ordered for her weeks of work ahead. Yes, she thought, there was something worse than this: staying around to face the humiliation day after day, having him look at her thinking he had taken all that was worth taking, having him look at her at all.

And so she packed her bags. Understanding that her leaving would have about as much impact on his world as a pebble skimming the surface of the ocean, but knowing it was preferable to being swallowed up by the ocean completely.

* * *

Faye raised her head to look at him, sitting opposite her, her heart numb with the steady ache she had not allowed herself to feel for so long. She felt ashamed—that she had had no choice but to swallow her pride and return, that she had allowed him to get to her once more—and she felt terrified that she was capable of letting him do it all over again.

‘As you said yourself, Dante, we all make mistakes.’

He seemed oblivious to the pain in her eyes. ‘You mean you realised that you could have got more for your virginity than a few weeks working here?’

What was he talking about? She had wanted nothing from him but for it to have been real. Yet he was angry with her? She looked at his cruel, arrogant, despicably handsome face. He seemed to tire of waiting for her to answer. She was glad.

‘It was fortunate that you were offered opportunities elsewhere, in spite of having come straight from me.’

‘Not everyone is such as Neanderthal as you, Dante. Some men do not consider a woman’s virginity the only thing she has to offer,’ she bit out, furious at his assumptions, and even more furious that she had never brought herself to take up any such opportunities, as he put it, on the occasions when they had come her way. But what would have been the point? She hadn’t even once got close to feeling anything like she had felt that afternoon with anyone. Until she had walked into his office again today, she thought wretchedly.

‘Faye, do not misinterpret me. I meant opportunities in the business world. Not many people walk out on a contract with Valenti Enterprises and are still offered work elsewhere.’

Bastard, she thought. Like hell you meant that. And as for business opportunities—those that had come her way since, she had had to turn down for the sake of Matteson’s. Faye felt all the tension in her shoulders return as she put down her spoon.

‘Champagne to finish, I think. A toast to my new…right-hand woman for a month.’

Faye gritted her teeth. There was no reason to refuse. She had sold her soul to the devil. If she was worried about losing her head, it was too late.

As he chinked his glass against her own, the blood in her veins slowed to a more languorous pace, no less insistent. She wished she had brought her faux pashmina to cover herself from that penetrating gaze which lingered upon her as she took a sip. Did he want her? He hated her, wanted to ruin her—she knew that. But she also knew that was not an issue he’d have difficulty putting aside if he did. The bubbles fizzed on her tongue. She took a deep breath as the alcohol reached her bloodstream, making her more conscious of her surroundings. Two days ago she had woken up to face a day like any other at the restaurant: vacant tables, piles of bills, tired décor, tired people. And now here she was, sitting in Perfezione, the antithesis of her life back home. Surrounded by so much luxury, so much life, in a restaurant where it took months just to secure a booking. Unless you happened to be accompanying the man who had haunted her dreams to this day. For a moment she wondered if she had conjured up this whole scene in her imagination.

‘I will have a contract drawn up, which you can sign tomorrow.’

No, not a dream. She nodded reluctantly. He was the devil in disguise. So she had no choice but to stay, but she did not have to stay here. She would return to the guesthouse. Even if it meant having to put it on a credit card and negotiate the busy metro every morning, she needed her escape.

‘Excuse me.’ Faye caught the attention of a passing waiter, ignoring Dante as he stiffened. ‘Please could you order me a taxi to Piazza Indipendenza? Grazie.’

‘That won’t be necessary, Michele. I will drive Miss Matteson. Thank you,’ Dante interjected, almost before she had even finished. The waiter was dismissed instantly and was so professional that not a hint of perplexity crossed his face.

‘You’ve been drinking. You’re not driving me anywhere!’ Faye made no effort to tone down the volume of her anger now. She had had enough of this rollercoaster of emotions. One minute he was masquerading as a reasonable human being, and the next he was verging on the tyrannical.

‘I’m glad you agree. I will not be driving you anywhere, because we have established that you will stay here—have we not?’

‘I have agreed to work for you. Where I stay has no bearing upon that. I will make sure I am on time, if that is your concern.’

‘That is not my concern, and it shall not be yours either. Living here is as much part of your experience as your work here during the day. It is not up for debate.’

No, nothing he decided was up for debate, was it? And no wonder, when his world was full of people pandering to his every need, treating his every word like the Holy Grail. But whilst he might get her diffident agreement, he would not have this ridiculous facade of civility any longer. She would get on with what she was here to do, and spend as little time in his company as possible.

‘I wish to go to bed. I had a late flight.’

‘Bed? Why, you should have said earlier.’ He rose, his hand moving to her elbow and his mouth lifting into a lazy lopsided grin that was at odds with the brooding intensity she had seen on his face for most of the day.

How was he allowed to look so good when he was so damned unscrupulous? She tried not to notice. She had allowed him to trample over her youthful emotions wearing that sexy smile once before, and she was not going to let him do it again.