Читать книгу Italian Boss, Proud Miss Prim - Susan Stephens, Susan Stephens - Страница 8

MAYBE the client was always right, but she was going to keep this formal. She would never get used to a man like Rigo Ruggiero in the short time available as he seemed to think she could, and so it was better not to try.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy this quietly. This tasty slice of la dolce vita was her first real adventure. Rigo Ruggiero—Roma, Italia—a real-life Italian playboy driving a blood-red sports car with Katie Bannister sitting next to him. The closest she had ever come to this before was in her fantasy world.

The view from the tinted window was extraordinary. They had cleared the boring industrial places and were driving into Rome. It was like entering the pages of a living history book—if one with a serious traffic problem, traffic Rigo Ruggiero had no problem negotiating. Her confidence had grown, Katie realised, noting how relaxed she had become. She could get used to this—the Colosseum here…Trajan’s Market there. The only place she dared not look was to her left, in case Signor Ruggiero thought she was staring at him. But she didn’t need to stare to know he was built like a gladiator and had the commanding face of a Roman general. She could feel that in every part of her.

‘Trajan’s Market has recently been reopened to the public.’

She refocused as he spoke. This conversational tone was not what she expected from the gladiator in her head, but then she hadn’t expected him to speak at all. Signor Ruggiero was being kind by entering into conversation with her—and at least it gave her an excuse to stare at him. ‘Really?’

She knew her eager gaze was gauche, but he was perfection, which made it hard not to stare. If she could have designed a man, this would be him. Even her imagination couldn’t have mapped a face so perfect or a body made for uninterrupted sin—

‘Even in AD 113,’ he went on, ‘these large shopping malls were in demand.’

As he smiled, a flash of strong white teeth against his tan made her think even more wicked thoughts. She could think of a better use for those firm, mobile lips and those wolf teeth, and when he angled that rough, stubble-shaded chin towards the remarkably well-preserved Roman buildings she felt a pulse begin to throb where it had absolutely no business doing so. Did he know the effect he was having on her? Katie wondered, blushing when he looked at her for her opinion. Hopefully not.

‘I read somewhere that Trajan’s Market was the experiment in bringing shops together under one roof,’ she said, trying to seem gripped by Roman history when the only thing she wanted to be gripped by was him.

His face creased in an attractive smile. ‘It was the first—unless you know of one dating from earlier times, of course?’

She shook her head. Obviously he knew more than she did about his own city, but she remained silent, because she thought it was safer to keep things formal rather than to chat. And she had only visited one shopping mall in her whole life. The girls from the office had persuaded her to accompany them and she had vowed, never again! The lights, the crowds jostling her, the shops full of things she didn’t need or want. Give her the wide open spaces in the country any day…

‘I think Rome is going to be quite an eye-opener for you.’

You could say that again, Katie thought as Rigo steered the sports car down a fashionable shopping street with more glitz and glamour than her poor fantasies could hope to conjure up.

Katie’s head was still spinning with all the lavish things she’d seen when she sat down in Rigo’s vast, ultra-modern study. Light flooded in, revealing every flaw—or would have done had there been any, but, as she might have imagined, Rigo lived in unimaginable luxury. His penthouse was immaculate, and his study boasted every conceivable high-tech man-toy. She found it starkly beautiful, with its colour scheme of steel and white. There was glass everywhere and vibrant modern art on the walls. Incredibly, the roof could be open to the sky, which it was. Her jaw dropped as she stared up to watch birds wheeling overhead in a flawless cobalt sky. So this was how the rich lived. After the chaos and bustle of the city streets, Rigo’s eyrie at the very top of an ancient palazzo was a haven of quiet. She could even hear the birds singing if she held her breath.

Katie forced her attention away from the aerial display as Rigo came to sit across the desk from her. He sprawled in such a relaxed fashion, while she was anxiously perching on the very edge of one of his divine cream leather chairs. It was showroom-new, like the huge glass desk in front of her—and that was another concern. What if she left a smudge on its pristine surface?

‘Do you like the view?’ he prompted.

‘I love it.’ There were windows to three sides overlooking the rooftops of Rome, but Rigo’s husky baritone attracted her more. Her heart squeezed tight as he looked out of the window and she looked at him. He was so perfect. And she would never know him, not properly. But she would never forget today, or how attractive he was, or how polite to her—though how that would affect her future when it came to men remained to be seen. They would all fall short if she compared them to Rigo.

For his part, Rigo seemed to have got over the shock of meeting her and was treating her with indulgence like a young relative recently arrived from the country.

‘There’s the Colosseum,’ he said, pointing it out. ‘Can you see it?’

And was that St Peter’s Basilica? She wanted to ask, but realised he would only think her more gauche and awkward than ever. Signor Ruggiero’s home in Rome was in one of the most fashionable squares and had a panoramic view of so much of the beautiful city.

‘I’ll draw the blinds,’ he said, when she impulsively shaded her eyes to take another look. He pressed a button and it was done. He pressed another button and a tinted glass roof closed over their heads. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, glad to be in the shadows again.

And now it was down to business—no more time wasted on wishing Signor Ruggiero could look at her and see her differently, someone with more class and polish than she possessed…and no flaws.

‘Are you cold, Signorina Bannister?’

Try frigid.

‘You’re trembling,’ he said.

‘Just travel-weary, I expect.’ By then he had pressed yet another button on the console on his desk, activating some invisible heat source.

‘Travel-weary?’ he murmured, and there was a faintly amused look in his eyes. ‘I forgot—you’ve had such a long flight.’

And it would be the same short flight home, Katie thought, knowing she would have to sharpen up with this man or be made a complete fool of. She started by putting a professional smile on her lips. ‘Shall we begin?’

‘Whenever you’re ready,’ he said, still looking at her with faint amusement.

Reaching for the thick manila envelope she had put in front of her on the desk, Katie opened it. But concern for its contents washed over her and she stopped. She had heard so many unkind things expressed in wills, and was well aware they could be used like a weapon to hurt those left behind. She hoped she wasn’t the bearer of some last bitter note from Rigo Ruggiero’s stepbrother.

‘What are you waiting for, Signorina Bannister?’

Yes, why should she care what was in the will? She fumbled the sheets and finally managed to spread the document out in front of her. ‘This is the last will and testament of—’

‘Cut to the chase—we both know whose will this is.’

Rigo Ruggiero’s charm had evaporated. He could change in an instant, she had discovered. It would be a foolish person who underestimated him. He had charm only when he chose to have charm.

‘My time is short, Signorina Bannister.’

And you are handling this badly, his expression clearly said. She wasn’t supposed to get involved. She had received this same criticism at work. It was her only failing, the senior partner had told her at her annual assessment. Deal with the facts, Ms Bannister. We are not employed to dole out tea and sympathy—and make sure you keep an accurate time sheet of every moment you spend with the client.

Even at times like these when she could be revealing anything to Signor Ruggiero? Was she supposed to close her heart and send the bill? She had never managed to do so before, and now she stood less chance than ever. Her clock wasn’t running. They should have sent a more experienced member of the firm if they wanted her to account for every second of compassion in her.

‘Please move on.’

She did so with a dry throat. Even her so-called sexy voice sounded strained. There was clearly no love lost between Rigo and his stepbrother. Didn’t he feel any nostalgia for his childhood? His darkening expression suggested not. She was out of place, out of step here…

Reminding herself she was merely a servant of the firm, she pulled herself together and got on with it, only to have Rigo explode with, ‘Tcha!’ as the phone rang. He made her jump as he banged the table. Obviously he didn’t want to be interrupted at a time like this, and as he reached for the telephone she spoke up.

‘If I answer it I can put them off for you. I can say I’m your PA…’

Briefly, she thought she saw something light in his eyes, and then with a curt nod of agreement he withdrew his hand, leaving her to pick up the phone.

‘Pronto?’ She shot Rigo a glance. People had different ways of expressing emotion when someone close to them died. Carlo Ruggiero had been part of Rigo Ruggiero’s life once—he must be feeling something, though he was hiding it well.

Refocusing on the call, Katie continued to talk in fluent Italian, and only slowly realised that Rigo was staring at her in astonishment.

‘Why didn’t you tell me you spoke Italian?’ he said accusingly as she ended the call.

‘I didn’t realise it would be of any interest to you.’

He looked taken aback, but quickly recovered. ‘No, you’re right. Well?’ he said impatiently. ‘Are you going to tell me who it was?’

She managed her feelings. This was none of her business. ‘It appears you have forgotten a rather important engagement…’

He jumped up immediately when she explained. Extracting a phone from his pocket, he placed a call and began to pace.

He would only break off this meeting before he found out everything for one reason and this was it. The scheme he had set up to fulfil children’s dreams came ahead of his personal concerns. If taking a child around the track in his sports car was being brought forward then there must be a very good reason for it. ‘Of course he can come right away,’ he told his friend.

Moving out of earshot so Katie Bannister couldn’t hear, he explained his schedule for the day had been thrown thanks to missing the solicitor he was due to meet at the airport—and, yes, he had found the young woman, eventually.

‘A young woman?’ his friend murmured with a knowing air.

‘A very quiet and respectable young woman,’ he emphasised, staring at the back of Katie Bannister’s head. She had thick, glossy hair the same shade of honey as her eyes, but she wore it scraped back cruelly in a way that did her no favours. He refocused on his conversation and shut her out. His friend brought her back in again.

‘What a disappointment for you, Rigo,’ he drawled, ‘but no doubt you have a plan in mind to change this young woman’s way of thinking?’

Actually, no, he had no plan, and his friend’s comment had left him feeling vaguely irritated. ‘I’m leaving now.’ He ended the call. This was not the moment to be discussing such things, and something about Signorina Bannister called for the role of protector, rather than seducer. She was far too young for him, and almost certainly a virgin—or at least incredibly inexperienced; ergo, she was not his type at all. He stowed the phone in his shirt pocket and turned back to her. ‘You’ll have to keep this reading on hold. I’ve been called away. We’ll reschedule—’

‘But my flight home…’ she said anxiously.

‘I can only apologise.’

Katie frowned. It wasn’t up to her to judge the client, but this was unforgivable. Rigo Ruggiero intended to leave something as important as the reading of his stepbrother’s will to race his sports car around a track. Couldn’t he do that some other time? His equally arrogant friend hadn’t been prepared to tell her much more, but she gathered that was the plan. ‘There’s no need to apologise,’ she said coldly, remembering the senior partner’s words. ‘After all, you’re paying for my time—’

‘Plus ça change,’ he interrupted and his expression registered nothing more than resigned acceptance of the way of things.

Now she was insulted. Her motive in coming to Rome had not been money. The fact that she had come here to fulfil his stepbrother’s last request didn’t matter to him at all, apparently.

He saw this change in her and emphasized, ‘This is something I cannot miss—’

‘And I cannot miss my flight,’ she said, standing up.

‘You can change it—’

‘I’m not sure I can—’

‘Why not?’

Because she would have to buy a new ticket—an expense that would mean nothing to this man and that in their present parlous state her firm probably wouldn’t reimburse. She had bills to pay—and the prospect of no job to return to ahead of her.

She had tried so hard to strike the right tone and be professional, but she was growing increasingly agitated as she faced Rigo Ruggiero across the desk. Like it or not, they were in conflict now. ‘Couldn’t you change your appointment?’ she suggested hesitantly.

‘No.’

‘But you are eager to get this over with?’ she reminded him. And not put off by a drive around the racetrack with the boys.

‘I assure you I am every bit as eager as I was before, but now I must go—’

‘Shall I wait for you?’

Already halfway to the door, he spun around. ‘Make yourself at home.’

Tension had propelled her to breaking point. She might be a small-town solicitor, and dull as ditchwater if you compared her to the blistering glamour of a man like this, but she wasn’t anyone’s doormat. ‘Signor Ruggiero, please,’ she called, chasing after him. ‘This just can’t wait—’

‘And neither can my appointment,’ he called back to her from the door. ‘You must be content—’

Content?

As he spoke one strong, tanned hand flexed impatiently on the door handle. ‘I will return as quickly as I can—’

‘But my flight—’

‘Book another flight.’

The next sound she heard was the sound of the door slamming on his private quarters.

Great, Katie thought, subsiding. She was going to miss her flight.

So what would she do? She would have to stay in Rome. But since the fire privacy was all-important. She’d never stayed away from home since the fire. She had never risked anyone seeing her scars. What if a hotel maid or a porter walked in on her by accident? The thought of it made her blood run cold.

She wasn’t ready for this—maybe she never would be. And where would she stay? Could she even afford to stay in a city as expensive as Rome on her limited budget?

‘Ciao, bella.’

On the point of tears, she swung around clumsily, almost crashing into the fabulous desk as Rigo Ruggiero stormed out of the apartment in a cloud of testosterone and expensive cologne. Ciao, bella? He must have mistaken her for someone else.

But her nipples were impressed, Katie realised with astonishment. Well, she could dream, couldn’t she? Ciao, bella…

Her sensible self lost no time telling her she should be concerned at these unmistakeable signs of arousal, because Rigo Ruggiero roused more than awe inside her, he roused lust.

And frustration.

And anger.

He inspired that too, because this just wasn’t fair. How long did it take to race around a track? Was she supposed to sit here waiting indefinitely for him?

She would go and find a cheap hotel, Katie concluded, putting the will back in its envelope. Wandering to the window, she took a last look out, debating whether to book a flight today, tomorrow—or next week, maybe? Who the hell knew? She was of no importance to Signor Ruggiero and had been dismissed. Far from being impatient to know the contents of his stepbrother’s will, as he had told her, he had proved himself all too easily distracted. The words play and boy had never made more sense to her. Rigo Ruggiero was like a film star—all top show. He was a man with too much money and not enough to occupy his time.

Staring down at the road a dizzying distance below, she watched his sleek red car pull out smoothly into the chaos of Roman traffic. Everyone gave way for him, of course. But not her, Katie determined, firming her jaw. Not that she’d ever get the chance. But then her dreamy self came to the fore and she wondered, if she had looked different—more glamorous, more appealing—would Rigo have taken her to the track with him?

And why should she care? It was time to stop daydreaming and start making plans.

An open ticket home was the best thing, Katie decided, and then the moment this business was concluded she could fly home. Rigo Ruggiero might have consigned her to the pigeonhole marked miscellaneous, along with all the other women who, for reasons of age, or inferior looks, had failed to meet his exacting standards, but even in her dreams she didn’t want to spend any more time than she had to with a man so self-absorbed he’d put a drive around a racetrack ahead of the reading of his stepbrother’s will.

Which naturally accounted for her heart trying to beat its way out of her chest. Who was she trying to fool? Katie wondered as the phone rang again. She looked across the room. Where were the snooty staff she’d had to get past at his office? Had he sacked them all? Surely a man like Rigo Ruggiero had a PA who could sort out his appointments and answer his phone? But if he had, there was no sign of him or her.

The phone continued to peal until finally she gave in and picked it up. ‘Pronto?’

‘Signorina Bannister?’

No. A Hollywood film star, she felt like telling Rigo Ruggiero at that moment. ‘Sì,’ she said instead, forcing an agreeable note into her voice.

‘I feel bad.’

Oh, no! She pulled a face and somehow managed to sound pleasantly surprised at the same time. ‘Oh…?’

‘You should make the most of your time in Rome.’

Really? ‘But I’ll be leaving shortly,’ she pointed out, waiting in vain for the surge of relief those words should bring.

‘Have you booked another flight yet?’

Ah, so he couldn’t wait to get rid of her. ‘I was about to—’

‘Well, don’t. Not until I get back.’

Commands now? Did she work for him? ‘But, Signor Ruggiero, I’m not equipped to stay over—’

‘Not equipped? What’s your problem? Buy whatever you need and charge it to me.’

What? ‘I couldn’t possibly!’ Katie exclaimed with affront—though she did allow her imagination a five-second trolley dash through Rome’s most expensive store with Rigo Ruggiero’s credit card clutched tightly in her hand. ‘I don’t have a hotel.’

‘A hotel? Don’t be ridiculous. I have seven bedrooms.’

Now she really was too shocked to speak.

‘Signorina Bannister? Are you still there?’

‘Yes,’ Katie managed hoarsely.

‘Don’t forget we still have business to conclude, you and I. I expect you there on my return. How hard can it be?’ he added in a more soothing tone. ‘My penthouse has a roof garden accessed through the staircase in the hallway, as well as an outdoor pool with the finest views over Rome you’ll ever see. There’s a resident chef on call at the press of a button, and an entertainment centre with a gym attached to the spa. Use the place like your own. And don’t forget—be there when I return. Oh, and in the meantime—answer any incoming calls and make a note of them, would you?’

Katie was still choking out words of protest when Rigo cut the line.