Taming Her Italian Boss (16 page)

Fina had just leaned across the table and patted his hand. ‘You’re the best architect I know, Massimo. You’ll work it out.’

His mother finally reached his office door and entered without knocking, then collapsed gracefully into a leather chair and smiled. ‘Shopping is so tiring, don’t you think?’

Max frowned. If it was that tiring, you’d think she’d do less of it.

‘I thought you said you’d be back at two. It’s past four.’

She waved a hand, as if minutes and seconds were of no consequence. ‘I was otherwise engaged.’

‘Oh, yes?’

She fidgeted with her handbag. ‘I met Ruby for afternoon tea at the Ritz.’

It was a warm August day outside, and the sun was glinting off the skyscrapers in the City of London, but Max’s skin chilled and his heart lumbered to a stop.

‘She showed me this,’ she said, and handed him a small rectangular card in a cellophane sleeve. He turned it over to discover it was a greetings card. He hadn’t seen the design before—a rather fierce-looking pigeon, who was standing guard at the Tower of London—but he recognised the style instantly.

She’d done it? She’d really done it?

His mother took the card back from him and tucked it in her handbag. ‘I told her I thought the pigeon reminded me of someone we both knew, but she said she couldn’t see it.’

‘I do
not
scowl like that.’

‘Darling,’ she said sweetly, ‘you’re doing it now.’

He shook his head and walked back round the other side of his desk. ‘How was she?’ he asked, keeping his tone light, neutral, and messing with some bits of paper on his desk.

It had been hard knowing he was in the same city as her. He’d have considered moving back to Venice if the institute commission hadn’t been ploughing ahead at full steam. They’d loved his new designs. Had eaten them up, and Vince McDermot had scurried off with his tail between his legs.

And it was all because of Ruby. He wished he could see her to tell her that.

Hell, he wished he could see her full stop. He looked up, realising his mother hadn’t answered him.

‘Honestly, Massimo,’ she said, giving him that same look she’d used to give him as a boy when he’d been caught stealing the family launch to go racing with his friends. ‘When are you going to give up and admit you’re head over heels for that girl?’

He stared back at her. Admitting it wasn’t the problem. Forgetting it was.

And now he’d seen her drawings he knew he’d done the right thing. He’d only have weighed her down, held her back.

‘Sometimes it’s better to walk away. I thought you’d understand that better than anyone.’

His mother threw her hands in the air, indicating she did not know what to do with him. ‘For a very intelligent man, my darling son, you can be incredibly stupid.’

‘Thanks, Mamma,’ he said between gritted teeth.

She stood up and walked over to him, her eyes warm and full of compassion. ‘You are not your father, Massimo.’

He opened his mouth, but she held up her hand.

‘Yes, you are very like him, but you are not a carbon copy.’ She gave him a heartfelt look. ‘You have a chance, darling, to make this right, to be happy. You can be what your father could not. I know it.’

It was surprising to discover just how much her faith warmed him. ‘How can you be so sure?’

‘Because I gave birth to you, because I know you. Because I’ve seen the way you’ve changed this summer.’

‘I don’t know how to tell her.’

She kissed him on the cheek and patted his arm. ‘Skills like that are just like muscles. The more you use them, the stronger they get, and you’ve already made a start.’

Max thought of all the things he’d said to Ruby that last night in Venice. The way he’d seen her crumble in front of him. He wasn’t sure words would ever be enough to repair that damage.

‘Anyway,’ she said, regaining some of her usual breezy air and heading for the door, ‘I’ve got a taxi waiting downstairs and I need someone to carry my bags.’

Max raced after her. A taxi? They’d been talking for at least five minutes!

‘What bags?’ he said, sounding more like his usual self.

‘Oh, I paid a little visit to Harrods before the Ritz.’

Four large bags were waiting for him in the back of the cab. He climbed in and passed them to his mother. The cabby smiled. He’d seemed quite happy to wait, with the meter ticking over at the speed of light. When the last one had hit the pavement, his mother gave him a gentle shove so he lost his balance and landed on the back seat.

‘Go! Go and see Ruby.’

He looked back at her helplessly. He’d had no time to prepare, no time to think up any building-related images to help him explain. ‘What will I say?’

‘Just start, Massimo,’ she said as she shut the door. ‘The rest will come.’

And then she thumped the taxi on the roof and it sped off into the London traffic.

* * *

Ruby was supposed to be working, but she’d drifted off, staring out of the window. It wasn’t something she usually did, but she’d looked up at the sky between the narrow buildings. It was exactly the same colour as the day they’d taken the speedboat out into the lagoon and found the secret beach, and for some reason she’d just ground to a halt.

She supposed she could call it a coffee break, but she usually filled her breaks with sketching, because when they were filled with sketching it blocked out other things she didn’t want to think about.

A large, heavy sigh deflated her ribcage.

She hadn’t let herself look back much, but some of the memories were so lovely, even if it hurt like hell to think about them.

If only whistles were really magic...

Then she could put her lips together and let out that breathy little sound and everything she wanted would just rise from the London street to meet her.

She pursed her lips, and the noise that came out was both pathetic and forlorn.

Nothing happened. But why would it? This was London, not
La Serenissima
.

She shook herself. This was no way to live.
Come on, Ruby. Find yourself something to do, something to keep yourself occupied.
In this madhouse, it shouldn’t be hard enough.

And, right on cue, a commotion erupted near the foyer. It was probably that clumsy motorbike delivery guy again. Thank goodness she was nowhere nearby to get blamed for his mishaps again.

The noise got louder. It was coming closer.

The One Planet office was large, but full of clutter and equipment, and the desks were separated by low screens to make cubicles. Ruby half stood and peered round the edge of hers to see what was going on.

There was a man walking down the central aisle, looking terribly grim, terribly stern. Everyone else cleared out of the way, but Ruby found she couldn’t do anything but freeze as her pulse went crazy. If it got any faster, she was either going to have a stroke or shoot straight through the ceiling.

That was Max. Here in the office.

He spotted her—half crouching, half leaning out of her cubicle—and his trajectory changed.

Jax, who fancied himself a bit as the office bouncer, was on his heels. ‘Hey, mate! Where d’you think you’re going?’

‘I’m going to see Ruby Lange,’ Max replied, not taking his eyes off her.

Ruby stood up, and the folds of the skirt of her strawberry dress fell around her knees.

He stopped when he was about ten feet away. ‘Wh-what do you want?’ she stammered.

Faces appeared above partitions and some of those who worked down the other end of the office drew closer to see what was going on.

Max just stared at her.

My, he looked amazing. All tall and gruff and...Max. She wanted to smile, to run to him, but she held back. Wasn’t he going to say anything?

He stopped looking quite so stern. She saw him swallow.

He wasn’t going to be able to do it, was he? He found saying what needed to be said impossible at the best of times. That was why she’d left him in Venice. Not because he hadn’t cared, but because he’d been too much of a coward to show it. How was he going to do it with all these people looking on, all these strangers?

But then he straightened, grew even taller and smiled at her.

‘I need you.’

The words hit her heart like an arrow, but this time she would not be wooed by them so easily. She needed to test them, to know their strength.

‘I’m not a nanny any more,’ she answered softly.

The heads of the onlookers swivelled back to look at Max.

The smile disappeared. ‘I don’t need a blasted nanny,’ he told her. ‘I need
you
, Ruby.’

‘Why?’ she almost whispered. Her heart thudded madly inside her chest, blood rushed in her ears. The seconds ticked by.

Details, Max. I need details.

He took a step forward. He was so close now that she could have reached out and touched him if she’d wanted to. The crowd shuffled closer. Someone walked in the door, back from a meeting and talking loudly on their mobile phone, and was shushed by at least five others.

‘Because,’ Max said, ‘you are bright and beautiful and talented.’

She let out a shaky breath.

But he wasn’t finished yet. ‘Because you brought joy back into my dull, structured life.’

She felt a lump rise in her throat. She started to speak anyway, but he stopped her with a look.

‘Because you challenge me, contradict me and generally drive me crazy.’

There was a rough laugh from behind her. ‘Yes, but isn’t she wonderful?’

Ruby turned to see her father standing at the end of the room. He was smiling. She looked back at Max, hardly knowing whether to laugh or cry.

‘I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

And then he was reaching for her, pulling her to him and his lips were on hers and his arms crushed her to him.

‘And because I love you,’ he whispered in her ear, but she didn’t mind that. These words were hers and hers alone. ‘More than anything in this world, more than designing or building or even breathing. I promise you I am no longer ankle deep. I am in way, way, way over my head.’

She pulled back to look at him. ‘Good answer,’ she said, grinning. ‘Because so am I.’

Max just laughed and kissed her again.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from SUMMER WITH THE MILLIONAIRE by Jessica Gilmore.

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CHAPTER ONE

‘N
O
,
HE
ISN
’
T
expecting me, and no, I don’t have an appointment, but...’

The impeccably made-up woman behind the desk held up a hand dismissively. ‘I am sorry,
signorina
, but without an appointment I cannot let you go in.’

Minty Davenport suppressed a sigh. It was only 10:00 a.m. but she had already done more this morning than she usually managed in a full day. After negotiating the Tube armed with two large suitcases, battling the automated check-in of the budget airline and enduring her taxi driver’s taste in music, she really needed something to go her way. Even the subtle scent of juniper, olives and garlic, and the sight of much missed rolling hills and olive groves, had failed to settle her nerves.

‘Here is Signor Di Tore now,’ the receptionist said, thankfully, gesturing to someone behind Minty. Minty closed her eyes, butterflies tumbling around her stomach.

I’m not ready for this.

But she had no choice.

Calm, collected and professional,
Minty reminded herself, taking a deep breath and straightening her shoulders before pivoting round, confident smile pinned brightly onto her face.

Only to be transported back in time to her gauche teen self. To when just the sight of him had caused the breath to whoosh out of her body like a blow to the stomach—a hard blow.

Oh, he
had
changed; only for the better. She’d been hoping for seedy, balding and obese. No such luck. He was still enviably trim, but muscled in the right places. His dark hair was cut shorter than she remembered, with just enough length to run her fingers through; those strangely light caramel eyes framed by long, dark lashes. Devil’s eyes, she used to taunt him.

Okay. Time to switch it on. She could do this.

‘
Buongiorno
, Luca. What a beautiful day. It was so gloomy when I left London this morning, but spring seems well and truly to have hit Italy.’

Luca raised an eyebrow, laughter lurking in hooded eyes. ‘I don’t know what part of that statement surprises me more,’ he said. ‘Polite chit-chat about the weather, or the realisation that you must have got up at the crack of dawn to get here. Unless you didn’t bother going to bed at all; jumped on the plane straight from one of your Mayfair nightclubs? It wouldn’t be the first time,’ he added.

Minty clenched her fists against the light wool of her skirt, resisting the temptation to smooth down the material. ‘No, it wouldn’t,’ she agreed evenly. ‘But you are behind the times, Luca darling; I haven’t partied in Mayfair for years.’ She smiled sweetly up at him. ‘All the best clubs are in the east of the city now, you know. And I’m not dressed for dancing.’

Damn, she never knew when to stop talking. Why did she have to mention her clothes rather than let them make the statement for her? The laughter in Luca’s eyes ratcheted up as he surveyed her up and down, the firm lips folding together to suppress something that looked suspiciously like a smile. ‘So I see.’

She had dressed carefully, appropriately, in a simple grey, short-sleeved dress, a wide red belt adding a splash of colour as it cinched her narrow waist. Her shoes were a sensible height, her jewellery elegant and understated. She had even pulled her long blonde hair back into a loose bun. All she needed was a pair of glasses perched on her nose and a briefcase to make the metamorphosis complete. Leaving London in the lamplit, drizzly early hours, Minty had felt smart, professional, businesslike.

Now she felt like a child playing dress-up.

‘Not that it isn’t lovely to see you,’ Luca continued, that same silkily sarcastic tone in his voice. ‘But what have we done to deserve this rare treat? It must be at least six years since you last graced us with your presence.’

Almost exactly six years. She hadn’t been back since her aunt’s funeral. Since she and Luca had almost... Minty pushed the memory firmly back into its box. It wasn’t relevant to today, not relevant to any day. She couldn’t allow the past to derail her; couldn’t afford to mess this up. ‘It is the board meeting today, isn’t it?’ She allowed a fleeting, alarmed expression to cross her face. ‘Oh, no, I didn’t get the date wrong, did I?’ Let him think she was unprepared. She’d show him.

‘You’re here for the board meeting?’ Minty couldn’t help feeling smug as incredulity replaced amusement. ‘Why?’

‘I
am
on the board,’ she pointed out.

‘Technically,’ he said. ‘But as you have never yet attended a meeting, or even sent your apologies, you’ll have to forgive me for being a little confused. Have you read the papers? Do you know what’s on the agenda? I don’t have time to bring you up to speed.’ His tone was condescending, a little superior. Just like when they were children, when he had used every second of his four years’ seniority to put her down, push her away.

She wasn’t a little girl now.

Minty held up her handbag. Her prized Birkin bag had always seemed ridiculously huge, dangling off one arm with only a credit card, lipstick and mobile rattling around inside the cavernous depths. Turned out it was the perfect size for her iPad, ready-loaded not just with the last year’s board-meeting papers but also Minty’s notes and ideas. Her game plan. ‘Read and digested.’

‘Okay, then.’ Luca was back to his usual inscrutable, faintly mocking self. ‘I look forward to hearing your thoughts. Shall we go through?’

Hang on, this wasn’t in her plan. ‘What, now? The meeting doesn’t start for an hour.’

‘I thought you might want to settle in, freshen up.’ The amber eyes gleamed. ‘Prepare for the meeting. I’m sure we can find you a spare corner somewhere.’

‘Thanks,’ Minty said. ‘But I’m quite all right here.’ She gestured vaguely around the foyer. It was a light, welcoming space, the inside functional yet as lovely as the outside. Some people thought running a business the size of Di Tore Dolce from old farm buildings in the lush Oschian countryside was crazy; that they would be better moving to one of the big cities: Rome, Milan or Florence. But neither Luca nor his uncle had ever considered uprooting from the family estate where it had all begun.

The office building had once been a barn. Now it housed desks, meeting rooms and dozens of people. The reception area in which they stood was a modern, glass-roofed extension. Living vines wound abundantly round the ceiling and support beams and large wooden pots held huge, vibrant green plants. Clusters of chairs were grouped around coffee tables and to one side three smartly dressed women were seated behind a long desk. Despite the early hour, their fingers were flying away on the keyboards as they chatted into earpieces.

They were the stylish embodiment of Cerberus, the three-headed dog that guarded the entrance to Hades, and there was no getting past them. Minty had tried, unleashing the full power of her charm on them.

It hadn’t worked.

On the short flight over, Minty had allowed herself a few daydreams about her successful return to
Di Tore Dolce,
mostly inspired by late-night
Dynasty
reruns. She would be sitting at the head of the table, presentation already set up when the other board members walked in, ready to dazzle them with her business acumen and vision.

If Cerberus hadn’t barred her way.

But if Luca took her through she would immediately be sidelined, relegated back to the same position she had been in as a bored and sulky teenager dragged into the office for work experience.

Minty thought quickly. ‘Honestly, you go ahead; I need to sort out my pass,’ she said, darting a look over at the receptionists.

They’d have to let her through now. And then she could set up while Luca assumed she was freshening up. She could still surprise him.

‘No worries, they can deliver one to you. Come on.’ Luca put his hand on the small of her back and ushered Minty towards the automatic door that separated the public part of the business from the private. At just that brief contact a jolt of electricity snaked up Minty’s spine and she shot forward, away from his touch.

So much for cool and professional.

But she was no longer a silly teenager with a crush. This time she was the one in control.

* * *

What on earth was Minty Davenport doing back in Oschia? And, more important, what was she doing here at Di Tore Dolce?

Luca strode over to the window and looked out over the hills and vineyards that surrounded the head office of the business he had inherited and grown. Just a mile away over the brow of the nearest hill was his home, the old Oschian farmhouse where he had lived first with his parents and then, after the accident, with his uncle, Gio, and Gio’s English wife. Luca had adored the softly spoken Englishwoman—and had dreaded the summers when her wilful, wild niece came to wreak havoc for weeks on end.

Now Minty was back. What destruction did she bring in her wake this time?

And what on earth did she want with
his
business? If only Aunt Rose hadn’t split her third share between the two of them; she’d given Minty a reason to return.

There had to be a reason she was back. Minty was wild, impulsive and thoughtless but her whims had never included board meetings before. Luca pulled out his phone and quickly did a search on her name. Instantly the return page showed thousands of possible hits, some dated that week. He pulled up the most recent and read, a frown pinching his forehead.

‘Aha,’ he said softly as he scrolled down the backlit screen. ‘Got you.’

* * *

‘You summoned me?’ Her voice was light, full of laughter, but the blue eyes were defiant. Luca recognised the pose well: the time she’d stayed out all night... No, he corrected himself, the
times
she’d stayed out all night. After every outrageous prank, after every time she’d been called to account, Lady Araminta Davenport had presented that same mix of insouciance and bravado.

There had been a time when Luca had thought there was a vulnerability to her. That she presented a mask to the world.

He had been wrong.

Luca leant back in his chair, allowing his eyes to travel slowly down the demurely clad, long, lean body, the grey dress oddly seductive as it clung to her subtle curves. The coltish teenager had matured into a beautiful woman.

Luca looked directly at her, held her guileless gaze. ‘I’m sorry to hear about your engagement.’

The blue eyes widened momentarily. A faint flush crept over her cheekbones but it was the only outward sign of any inner emotion. Surprise? Discomfort? Embarrassment? Whatever Minty was feeling, she kept it locked inside.

Once he had wanted to know—to know what she felt. To know
if
she felt. To peel back her layers and see if there was anything more to her than a trust fund with an attitude.

‘To lose one fiancé is unlucky,’ he said, still watching her. ‘Three losses could be considered careless.’

She shrugged. ‘What can I say? I never did take care of my toys.’

Had he been one of those toys? Picked up on a whim then discarded? He felt the old familiar anger rise up and swallowed it back down. He had never given her the satisfaction of reacting to her selfish and outrageous behaviour. He wasn’t going to start now.

‘Probably for the best. I can’t really see you as a politician’s wife.’

‘Oh, it’s not all opening fetes and kissing babies, you know; some spouses even have jobs here in the twenty-first century.’ Minty wandered over to the bookshelves that lined the left side of the room and picked up a photo of her aunt. Rose was standing outside the farmhouse, her arm around a twelve-year-old Luca. He was smiling, leaning into the woman who had become his surrogate mother. He remembered that day clearly. It had been the first day since the accident that he had been happy and hadn’t thought about his parents.

‘It seems odd to be here, without her,’ Minty said, so softly he barely made out the words. ‘As the taxi drove past the house, I half-expected it to turn in to the driveway and I’d see her standing on the step in that flour-covered apron of hers.’ She put the photo down and continued to browse along the shelves, examining the photos and awards he kept there.

For a moment Luca softened. Rose had been just as much Minty’s surrogate mother as his; it must be strange for her to be back in Oschia for the first time since the funeral. But it had been her choice to stay away; to run away in the middle of the night; to barely bother keeping in touch with Uncle Gio, the man who had provided her with stability and a home for over ten summers.

‘It says here that your father wasn’t very pleased about the engagement being called off.’

Minty turned, leaning back against the bookshelves, confident, graceful, unpredictable as a cat. ‘You shouldn’t read gossip websites, they’re very bad for you.’

‘Ah, but how else would we know what you are up to?’

Her eyes gleamed. ‘I didn’t know you cared.’

Luca stared at her, not trying to hide his contempt. ‘I don’t, but Gio worries about you. Is it true?’

Minty wandered back towards the desk, dropping into the chair opposite, folding one long leg over the other as she did so. ‘True that Daddy was unhappy? You know Daddy. Inconvenient offspring of early marriages should not be seen, not be heard and definitely not be splashed all over the newspapers. He was a tad cross.’

‘Is that why you’re here?’

She gave him a long look from under her lashes. ‘Can’t you just believe that I was seized with a desire to contribute to the company?’

A burst of impatience shot through him. She’d been back for less than an hour and already she was playing games, turning his plans upside down. No way was he allowing her into that board meeting without knowing exactly why she was here and what she wanted. ‘Come on, Minty,’ he said. ‘You may be a shareholder, but as we plough most of the profits back into expansion we can only be a tiny part of your income.’ His eyes slid to the snakeskin Birkin bag dumped by the door. ‘A tiny part,’ he repeated. ‘You have never shown any interest in
Di Tore Dolce
before. Why now?’