Taming Her Italian Boss (12 page)

‘I didn’t think you’d remember the whistle,’ his mother muttered beside him, her eyes a little misty.

His first reaction was to bristle, to bat the comment away and pretend he hadn’t heard it. Of course he’d remembered. It had been his father’s trick to call the island that way. For a man who’d had a hard time expressing his emotions, he’d been unusually imaginative. It had made him a good architect, but it had made him an even better father, softening the gruff edges.

He turned and watched Ruby as she finished getting her towel just so, then lay down on top of it to face the sun.

He thought about her willingness to try and try again, even when things didn’t go according to plan. She never gave up, never locked herself away from new experiences. Never locked herself away from hope that it would all turn out right one day. She wasn’t weak and flaky, as he’d thought her. She was strong. Resilient.

And she was right. He needed to try with his mother. Not just for the sake of his family, but because he wanted to be the kind of man who was worthy of Ruby Lange. The kind of man who knew how to do more than just ‘ankle deep’. That was what she needed, and that was what he wanted to give her.

His mother was staring out to sea, and had obviously given up on him giving her an answer. For the first time he saw it—what Ruby had been trying to tell him about—the deep pain behind her eyes. The same kind of desolation he’d seen his father wear in unguarded moments, the same one that had eaten away at him, until it had sucked the life right out of him.

Something warm flooded his chest. Something that wasn’t bitterness or rage or judgement, something that made him remember how warm and kind she’d been when he’d been younger, how she’d have given anything for her children, and even more for her husband.

Words rushed around inside his head, the beginnings of sentences. The beginnings of a truce.

But none of them left his mouth. It felt as if he were looking at his mother from behind a large sheet of bulletproof glass. There was so much he wanted to say, so many questions he wanted to ask, but he found he could release none of them. It wouldn’t come, even though, for the first time in almost two decades, he wanted it to. He wanted to
try
.

Eventually his mother picked up a book and began to read. Max sat there, adrenaline making his blood surge and his skin prickle, but anyone looking at him would have thought he was resting his hands on his knees, relaxing in the sun. He twisted his head and searched for a flowery red and black costume.

For most of his life he’d been proud when people had called him his father’s son, when they’d remarked on the likeness, not just in looks but in temperament, but for the first time that pride chilled into fear. If he was the cookie-cutter offspring everyone always said he was, there was a real chance that he would never deserve a woman like Ruby Lange.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

R
UBY
RETURNED
TO
THE
SALON
that evening after dinner to tidy some of Sofia’s things away. She sorted through a stack of drawing papers, thinking she’d find one or two to present to Fina as a memento of Sofia’s visit.

She reached a shortlist of seven. Some drawings that she’d done and Sofia had coloured in, and a few of her charge’s own creations. They needed skilful interpretation, but the intent was there. Ruby stopped as she stared at a page that was filled with different-coloured crayon blobs, all lined up. The shocking pink blob was Fina, apparently. The smaller one next to her, a vibrant, bright yellow, was Sofia herself. The dark blue one off to the side, looking a bit like a navy, vertical thundercloud, was Max. Ruby had giggled at that when Sofia had pointed it out.

That only left the purple blob.

The purple blob so close to the blue one they practically merged at the edges, creating an indigo smudge.

It was understandable, Ruby supposed, that Sofia should put her and Max next to each other. She spent a lot of time with the pair of them, after all. Ruby had smiled when Sofia had told her the scribble of purple was her, honoured to have been included, but now she looked at it she realised just how much artistic licence Sofia had taken.

But Max didn’t do that, did he? He didn’t let his edges blur like that. And maybe he never would.

That was what Fina had been trying to tell her.

Was she just fooling herself?

Ruby sighed and sank onto the rug. The pieces of paper she’d collected fluttered out of her hand and fell onto the floor unseen. She was so confused.

They’d spent a lot of time together over the last five days. Not just the morning outings with Sofia, but in the evenings Fina often disappeared to visit her friend Renata after they’d eaten dinner, then Ruby would creep into the library and she’d have a glorious hour or two alone with Max.

When she was with him, everything was amazing and she couldn’t think about anything else. When he kissed her, she felt as if she were touching something deep inside him. More and more he was giving her ‘glimpses’ of the real Max, and each time she dived deeper in she got lost a little more. One day soon there’d be no going back.

But then she’d leave him and the little doubts would start to creep in, nibbling away at her.

He had to feel the same way, didn’t he? The truth of it rang between them every time they were in the same room together, and she really wanted to believe it, but...

Never once had he mentioned where this was going—or even
if
it was going—once their stay in Venice ended. Never once had he put words to how he felt about her, given her any hint about the future. Their days here were numbered; she knew that. Gia had phoned saying she needed a little longer in L.A., but the original fortnight was up in just two days’ time.

She sighed and collected the pieces of paper together and put them away in the sideboard with the other drawing things, forgetting that she’d sorted out the masterpieces and jumbling them back in with the others again.

Once she was finished putting them away she headed for the library. Max was poring over his laptop, as usual, but when he saw her he got up from his chair and crossed the room to where she was standing just near the doorway. He stood close, far too close for a boss approaching his employee, then gave her an impish smile as he closed the door behind her, pressed her up against it and kissed her until her head was spinning and her lungs were convinced oxygen was just a deep and distant memory.

When he pulled back to look at her, she saw a flash of something in his eyes. Something deep. Something true. It sent her heart spinning like the waltzer at the fairground. She so wanted to forget about tomorrow and just do what felt right for now, but that was how she’d spent her whole life so far, and it was time to step back and take a more mature approach. Where Max was concerned, she really needed to pay attention to the big picture.

She wanted him to say something.

Exactly what, she didn’t know. Just something. Something that she didn’t have to prise out of him. Something to let her know what was happening between them, if he was as confused as she was, but Max just leaned in and stole another kiss. It made her blood dance right down to her toes.

She pulled away, looked him in the eyes. ‘What are we doing?’ she whispered.

Just one of Max’s eyebrows hitched up a little. ‘I thought we’d covered enough ground for you to be sure, but if you want a little more demonstration?’

He leaned close again, but Ruby stopped him with her hands on his chest. Hands that dearly craved a little more ‘demonstration’, but she forced them to stay put instead of using them to explore him further.

‘I mean
us
. Is this just a holiday fling, or what?’

He frowned. She’d upset him, she could tell, but she had to know. She’d spent her whole life straining for the crumbs one man doled out to her. She’d had no choice but to accept what her father gave her, but with Max she did, and she’d be insane to follow that pattern with him.
Glimpses
were all well and good for now, but for the long term? That was like trying to nourish yourself with only a diet of canapés for the rest of your life.

‘Ruby? Don’t you know?’

She shook her head. All she knew was that she had a choice: dive in and hope that one day Max would shed the same chains that had bound his father, or run now before things got even more serious.

More serious? Hah. She was kidding herself. She was already half in love with him. It wouldn’t take much more to push her over the precipice.

Max’s hands moved to circle her waist, to pull her as close as she could possibly get without their physical boundaries blurring just as they had done in Sofia’s drawing.
‘Lascia che ti mostri.’

Let me show you.

When he touched her lips with his again she just about melted clean away. She’d thought she’d experienced passion from Max before. She now realised they’d just been paddling in the shallows. But even as he unleashed the force of it on her, as the kiss continued, she got the sense that Max was a like a dam, holding back the pressure of a million gallons of water. There was still more beneath, so much more.

She wanted him to tear that last barrier down, to unleash the torrent and let it sweep her away, but the structure was solid, impenetrable. Nothing she could do could get it to crack. A tiny part of her cried out in pain as she realised that, even in this, Max was holding himself back.

He picked her up and carried her to the small love seat in the corner of the room, and they both fell onto it in a tangle of arms and legs, hot breath and pounding hearts, and as his lips found the curve of her neck and his hands smoothed down her body she discovered something did crumble after all. But it was all her good resolves, not him.

* * *

Ruby lay in bed that evening and reached for her mobile phone, which had lain untouched most of the last fortnight. Partly because it was too expensive to turn data roaming on, but also because she was avoiding communication from her father about The Job.

However, she’d started fantasising about carrying on back in London with Max, about being the kind of woman he’d consider sharing his life with. That clearly meant that the world was upside down and back-to-front, and she obviously needed a sharp dose of reality to counteract that and help her think straight. And a
What have you done now?
lecture and an exorbitant phone bill would do nicely on that front.

Just as she feared, an email from dear old dad was lurking in her inbox. She shifted position, took a deep breath and opened it.

FAO: Ruby Lange.

That was typical Dad. Other people started emails with
Hi!
or
Hey!
or just launched into the subject at hand as quickly as possible. Only Patrick Lange could make an informal communication sound like a court summons.

Dear Ruby,

I had hoped to hear from you by now on your current employment situation. I understand from your flatmate that you are in Europe somewhere, doing something, but she could not enlighten me any further. Would you care to? I’m holding the job open for you, and I’d greatly appreciate it if you could let me know if you’re going to take it. There are plenty of other people who would kill for this kind of opportunity, you know.

Yes, she knew. He’d told her often enough.

You need to approach life with a more adult attitude, Ruby. You can’t flit around for ever ‘finding yourself’. At your age it’s time you stopped running away from responsibility and started embracing it.

I need to know about the production assistant position before next Monday. Please get in contact and let me know.

Dad x

Ruby scowled at her mobile screen. No
I know I’ve been incommunicado for a month, but how are you doing, Ruby?
No
Great you’ve found yourself a new job, Ruby!
Just judgement and how much she was disappointing him, as always.

She knew she really shouldn’t message angry, but she couldn’t help herself.

Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dad.

Much to her surprise, her message alert went off a few minutes later.

Ruby, understand that I don’t say the things I do to hurt you. You have so much potential and it’s a crime to waste it drifting from thing to thing. The job offer stands. I think you might enjoy it, and I expect you will be good at it. You have just the right kind of energy the team needs. D x

Ruby flipped her phone case closed and put her mobile back on the bedside table. She didn’t know whether to be angry that she’d finally forced him into giving her a backhanded compliment or just stupidly happy he thought she could be good at something. She folded her arms across her chest on top of the quilt and stared at the ceiling.

Well, she’d wanted reality, and her father had dished up some five-star fare.

But there was a difference between not being able to stick with something and not wanting to. Why didn’t he understand that?

Because it looks the same, smells the same, tastes the same...

No. It wasn’t the same. It was always her choice. Always her decision.

You choose to get that itchy feeling, want to feel it torment you until you have no other option but to outrun it?

She scowled at the pretty looping baroque designs on the ceiling. Now even her subconscious was ganging up on her. That wasn’t true, was it? That feeling of being pinned down, of getting so close to something to feel its heat, to feel how much it could scorch and burn, that wasn’t what made her seek out new and exciting things. It couldn’t be.

But as she followed the patterns and shapes on the ceiling with her eyes she catalogued all the jobs she’d had over the last five years, all the people and places she’d thought she’d become attached to, and she discovered there wasn’t one time that she hadn’t left because, not only had her feet got itchy, but her whole being had got itchy. She used to think it was the yearning for fresh pastures that made her feel that way, but now she was staring it in the face, dissecting it and pulling it apart, she saw it for what it really was.

Fear.

Plain and simple.

You’re not a free spirit, Ruby Lange. You’re a coward.

There wasn’t one time she hadn’t succumbed to that itch, except...

Except that night almost a week ago on the dock, when it had been itching so hard she’d almost jumped into the canal to stop the burning. When Max had asked her to stay. And she had.

Ruby let out a long and shuddering breath.

She wanted to stick with Max. No matter what. She wanted that with all her heart.

The realisation shocked her. It should have made her heart race and her breathing shallow, but all she felt instead of blind panic was a strange but not unwelcome sense of peace creeping up on her.

Ruby threw the covers back, jumped out of bed and walked over to stare out of the window. For some reason, the gently lapping water soothed her, helped her think.

She had to be sure about this.

Not just about Max’s feelings for her, but about her feelings for Max. If they went forward with this, and he held back from her, she knew she wouldn’t be able to stay around and let her heart endlessly beg for more. Look at what that had done for Fina.

But she also knew that if she dived into this relationship, and then bailed, it might seal his fate. He would shut down completely. And that would lead to consequences, not just for her, but possibly for Fina and Sofia and the rest of his family. Max had so much to give, if he would only let himself, and she didn’t want to be the reason he didn’t.

She started to pace. Back and forth, back and forth she went. She finally fell into bed and tossed back and forth there too. At 3:00 a.m. she punched her pillow hard and let out a low moan of frustration.

The only thing solid she could come up with was that she’d rather be with Max than without him. And she could do it, she knew she could, but it was one thing for her to be sure of it, and another entirely to convince Max of the same.

Another realisation hit her straight between the eyebrows. Maybe that was why he was holding back! Maybe it was nothing to do with him and everything to do with her.

She wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t trust her not to run when things got sticky. Her track record was all hundred-metre dashes: exciting and adrenaline-inducing while they lasted, but over quickly and leaving everyone feeling burnt out and exhausted. She needed to convince him she was capable of a marathon; that she’d changed in the space of two short weeks and was ready to do more. Be more. That she was a safe pair of hands for his heart.

But how?

Words wouldn’t be enough. Max was all about the concrete, the tangible evidence. She’d have to prove it to him in no uncertain terms. She went back to staring at the ceiling, familiar with its intricate patterns and leafy trails now, and after only a few moments the solution dropped into her brain with a thud.