Unnoticed and Untouched (3 page)

Twenty percent. Faith swallowed. “Well, as wonderful as that is, I think you’ve forgotten something.” Because she had to be honest, no matter how much she might like to leap on the offer.

“And what is that?”

“I don’t speak Italian. I don’t speak anything but English, in fact.”

His smile did not dim. “And yet the international language is English. How do you suppose people in Italy converse with people in Germany? No, this is not an issue. Besides, you will learn Italian while you live there.”

“I—”

“Renzo, darling, there you are,” a cultured female voice called out, interrupting them. “I’ve been looking everywhere.”

Renzo stiffened as he turned toward the owner of the voice. The woman sauntering toward them was a stunning salon-blonde, dressed in a tight-fitting black sheath that showed a mile of tanned leg. Her hair hung long and straight down her back, and her makeup was absolutely
perfect. She wore a fat diamond-drop necklace and matching earrings, and her shoes were gold.

“Lissa,” Renzo said. “How nice to see you again.”

Lissa’s gaze fell to Faith and slid over her with no small measure of contempt. The look very clearly said
back away
.

Oh puh-leeze
. As if Faith were any competition. Still, she tilted her chin up and stood her ground.

Lissa turned her smile on Renzo. “Do I not get a kiss, darling? I had thought you Italians were all about the kiss when greeting friends.”

“Of course.” Renzo kissed her on both cheeks in the Italian manner and then turned and put an arm around Faith. Lissa’s eyes narrowed to slits while Faith’s entire body lit up like a firecracker as Renzo pulled her into the curve of his powerful frame.

This was not what she’d agreed to tonight, and yet in a way it had been. She was his date.

“Lissa, this is Faith.”

Faith held her hand out, surprised it didn’t shake when inside she was trembling so badly. Why, when she didn’t even like him all that much?

Lissa took it after a moment’s hesitation. “Very lovely to meet you,” Faith said.

“Yes, lovely.” Lissa’s tone said it was anything but. “Renzo, I had hoped to speak with you. Alone,” she added, her smile never wavering.

Renzo’s fingers skimmed over Faith’s bare arm, his touch setting off a chain of reactions inside her that ended with a sharp current of need settling between her thighs. She’d never felt anything quite like it. And she was furious it was happening now, here, with this man.

Her boss made Casanova look like an amateur, for pity’s sake. She knew it, and yet she responded anyway.

“You may say whatever you wish to say in front of Faith,” Renzo countered. “She is completely trustworthy.”

Lissa pushed her hair over one shoulder with an indolent gesture. Her eyes sparked. “It can wait,” she said tightly. And then she smiled. Faith had the impression of razor-sharp fangs lining the other woman’s mouth. “Perhaps a bit later, then.”

“Perhaps,” Renzo said.

Someone called to her, and Lissa turned and waved. “If you will excuse me, I must mingle.”

“Of course,” Renzo replied. “Do not let us keep you.”

Lissa insisted on kissing Renzo on both cheeks again and held her hand out to Faith, pressing it limply before gliding away in a cloud of malevolence that was quite possibly stronger than her perfume.

“Let me guess,” Faith said coolly, moving out of his grasp when the other woman had joined a group of people a few feet away. “She is the reason you needed a date tonight.”

“
Si
,” Renzo said.

Faith turned to look up at him, exasperated, and just a little hurt. “Honestly, I don’t know why you just don’t do what you always do and be done with it.”

His brows drew together. “What I always do?”

“Oh please, don’t act as if you don’t know. I’ve worked for you for six months, and I’ve yet to see a woman last more than a month with you. You wine them, dine them, give them presents and dump them.”

It was bold of her, but she’d had just enough wine to loosen her tongue. To be on the safe side, she deposited the half-finished glass on the terrace wall. If she drank the whole thing, heaven knows what she might say to him.

Renzo grinned. Not at all the effect she’d been going for.
“You forgot one, Faith.” She frowned, but he leaned toward her and spoke before she could say anything. “Bed them.”

A flash of heat shot through her. Dammit! “Yes, of course. How could I forget that one? Silly me.”

She realized she was standing before him with her arms crossed defensively when he put his hands on her shoulders and skimmed them down her arms. “I had no idea you were so outraged by my behavior,” he teased.

Faith scoffed as she tried very hard not to react to his skin touching hers. Why didn’t she just shove him away? “Outraged? I have no say in anything you choose to do. I am not outraged. It was merely an observation.”

He put a finger under her jaw and tipped her chin up. His sharp eyes glittered with some hidden passion that hadn’t been there only a moment ago. It shocked her. And intrigued her.

He was so close. Too close, the heat emanating from him enveloping her, making her long to press into him and see just how hot she could feel. Would she burn up in his embrace?

No. No, no,
no
. She would not think of her Italian playboy boss in that way. It wasn’t safe. It was irresponsible.
Reckless
.

Faith did not do reckless. The one time she had, it had cost her far more than she could have ever dreamed. She was finished with reckless.

“But you disapprove,” Renzo said.

“Not this time.” And she almost meant it, except for the fact it would mean Renzo would actually sleep with that obnoxious woman. Though, on the other hand, the woman would pay for it in the end when Renzo dumped her. Faith might enjoy shopping for that parting gift. “Go for it.”

He laughed. “And what makes you think I have not already?
That she just doesn’t understand I no longer want her?”

It was a valid point, but she knew better because she’d witnessed the fallout too many times. The tears, the desperate phone calls, the attempts to sneak past her and into his office in order to plead for another chance. Women could be, she’d decided, awfully pitiful sometimes. She wanted to tell them to get some dignity, to stop begging and go on with their lives. Men like Renzo were immune to histrionics.

“Because a woman who has been subjected to the D’Angeli treatment is usually angry with you. She wasn’t. She wants you, and pretty badly I’d say.”

The look in his eyes was sharp. He moved a step closer and she shuddered involuntarily. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said, much too innocently. “I like the way you talk, Faith. It sounds like sweet syrup, all long and drawn out as if you had all day to speak. Not like the women in New York.”

“That’s because I’m from Georgia. It’s hot there. We talk slow and walk slow and, well, do a lot of things slow.” My God, she was babbling. To her urbane, gorgeous boss. Where was her dignity?

One of Renzo’s dark eyebrows arched. “Really? I can imagine that some things are done best when done slowly. How wise you people from Georgia are.”

Her heart was slamming into her ribs and a fine sheen of moisture was rising in the valley between her breasts. “I sound no different now than I have for the past six months. I can’t imagine how you haven’t noticed it before.”

He took another step and she backed up, found herself against the wall of the terrace where it curved inward. He
put a hand on the wall beside her, trapping her as his other hand came up and caressed her jaw.

It was electrifying.

“I have been wondering this myself,” he said. “You have hidden yourself well, Faith.”

Her body hummed with electricity that she feared would scorch her if it continued for much longer. “I’ve hidden nothing. I’ve come to work every day and sat at a desk not ten feet from your office door. I’ve brought you coffee, papers. I’ve fielded phone calls and given you reports. And I’ve gone shopping for those goodbye presents for your women—”

“Ah,” he said softly, “you
are
offended.”

“No,” she replied. But then, because she couldn’t help it, she added, “Though I think you should shop for your own presents.”

Renzo laughed. “Perhaps you are correct, and yet you always choose the nicest things. How can I compete?”

“By employing a full-time personal shopper?”

His gaze dropped to her mouth for a moment and she sucked in a breath, trying to calm her racing heart. He hadn’t backed away, hadn’t taken his hand from her cheek in all this time they’d been talking. The sharp ache throbbing inside her was nearly unbearable.

And unfathomable.

“You have lovely eyes,” he said. “Why do you hide them behind those hideous glasses all day long?”

She stiffened. “They’re reading glasses. I need them to do my job.” A different kind of heat scorched her now.

Someone laughed nearby, and then Lissa’s voice drifted over the others. “So plain and unattractive. Honestly, I can’t see what he sees in her. Must be an Italian thing.”

Time seemed to stand still for a moment, hovering in the air above Faith’s head, threatening her with old humiliations
and hurts. And then it drifted down over her, covering her in feelings she would rather forget.

She told herself not to care, but she did anyway. It hurt, being the center of negative attention. Though nothing Lissa said could come close to what Faith had gone through in the past when Jason had betrayed her trust, she was surprised to realize that it still had the power to hurt her.

For a moment, she was back in high school. Hearing the taunts, the snickers, the innuendos. Feeling the anger, the urge to lash out, the urge to escape.

Renzo’s jaw tightened. “I’m sorry, Faith.”

“It’s nothing,” she said lightly, drawing on hard-won reserves of strength. “She’s just jealous.” But moisture swam in her eyes and her throat ached with the effort not to let any tears fall. She thought that she’d learned how to deal with this eight years ago, but she’d been wrong. You never got over people pointing their fingers and laughing at you.

“We will go now,” Renzo said, his hands on her shoulders once more, this time imparting comfort rather than setting her on edge.

“No!” Faith swallowed the lump in her throat. She would not run. Not this time. “No, that’s exactly what she wants. Besides, have you got what you came here for tonight?”

He’d spent a few minutes with Robert Stein, but it had been in the company of others. And she was fairly certain he’d not talked business upon first arriving. No doubt he’d been hoping to broach that subject a bit later.

He frowned. “That is unimportant.”

Impulsively, she put a hand on his chest. The fabric of his tuxedo was smooth, cool, but beneath it his body was hard and hot. She knew he was in excellent shape considering that he was a top Grand Prix rider—not to mention she’d saved the heat-inducing magazine ad where he’d posed in his leathers with the zipper opened to his navel.
She’d been unable to deny how sexy he was in that ad, even if she did think him heartless when it came to women. The magazine had gone into her keeper pile, much to her dismay.

Still, after all that, she was unprepared for how his body felt beneath her hand.

Power and leashed strength waiting for the right instant to explode into action. At the moment, however, he seemed very still beneath her touch, nothing but the beat of his heart vibrating against her palm. It was almost as if he was purposely holding himself still.

Faith forced herself to focus. “Please, Renzo, the Viper is important to you. Talk with Mr. Stein. Don’t worry about me. I can handle myself.”

She’d learned how after a trial by fire she would never forget.

His fingers wrapped around hers where they rested on his tuxedo. He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss there that sent a shudder rocketing down her spine.

“You are quite remarkable, Faith,” he said softly.

“Hardly,” she replied. She needed to put distance between them, now more than ever. She didn’t like this hot, achy feeling he called up inside her. It could come to no good for her. Even if he were interested in a plain girl like her, she had a lot more to lose than his usual women. Unlike the others, she’d find herself brokenhearted
and
jobless once he decided to dump her, were she foolish enough to give in to this silliness inside. “I’m thinking of my bottom line. If the Viper succeeds, then I can ask for an even bigger raise.”

Renzo threw back his head and laughed. “Indeed. Then come with me,
cara
.”

And, twining his fingers in hers, he led her into the center of the garden party.

R
ENZO
was in a good mood. Aside from Lissa Stein’s behavior—and the way his leg now throbbed after so much time standing on it—it had been a good evening. Stein had expressed interest in building custom tires for the Viper, and an acute interest in an exclusive partnership with D’Angeli Motors, should the Viper prove a success during the time trials next month in Italy. The bike wasn’t quite ready yet, but Renzo had high hopes they’d be able to begin training for the MotoGP season soon.

But, more interestingly, he was very much intrigued by the woman sitting beside him in the limousine. He’d kept her close for the rest of the evening, ushering her through the gathering like a prized possession. Lissa Stein had stayed far away,
grazie a Dio
.

While that had been his priority in bringing Faith tonight, he’d found that he rather enjoyed having her near. She made no demands. She did not simper or whine or pout. In fact, she seemed quite prickly, and she’d taken him to task over the women in his life. Rather than finding it impertinent, he’d been amused.

She might bristle like a porcupine, but he couldn’t help noticing that she’d shivered and blushed when he’d touched her. And that it seemed to infuriate her that she had.

When he’d backed her against the terrace wall and put
his hand on her cheek, he’d had every intention of kissing her even though he knew he should not. He’d never yet committed the sin of making love to a personal assistant, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to cross that line now. But he
had
wanted to taste her. Just for an instant.

He still wasn’t certain why. Faith Black was not a gorgeous model, but she had some indefinable quality about her that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. She was strong, but also vulnerable. She’d experienced pain in her life, but that pain hadn’t defeated her. He’d seen it in her eyes when Lissa had made those hurtful comments. He’d wanted to defend her, but she hadn’t needed defending.

“I have not forgotten that you did not answer me about Italy,” he said into the silence.

The interior of the car was dark, other than the lights from the street that shone inside as they drove back toward Brooklyn. One of Faith’s earrings caught the light as she turned her head toward him.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” she said.

“And what have you been thinking?”

“You didn’t tell me how it would work once I got there. Where would I live? Would I need a car? I haven’t driven in years, and I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable relearning that skill in a foreign country. It’s not that I can’t drive,” she hurried on, “but since I’ve lived in New York, it’s been unnecessary.”

She sounded somewhat breathless, he noted, as if she were nervous and trying to hide it. Interesting.

“I have a very large house,
cara
. You would stay with me. And there is no need to drive, as you will travel with me wherever I go.”

Wherever he went? Renzo surprised himself with the statement, but
si
, it made the most sense. How could she organize his appointments if she did not accompany him?

“I’m not sure I could do that,” she said very quietly.

“Why not?” He sounded perplexed. Because he
was
perplexed.

“Because at least I have weekends off now. I have my own life, you know. It does not revolve around you twenty-four hours a day. And it sounds like it would in Italy.”

A sudden thought occurred to him. Perhaps it should have occurred to him before, but the simple fact was that it hadn’t. “Do you have a boyfriend, Faith? Someone you do not wish to leave behind?”

He knew what he wanted the answer to be, but he had no idea what she would say. If she would ruin his good mood by giving him a different answer than he desired.

“No, no boyfriend,” she said.

A sliver of relief slid through him at her soft words. Not that he cared if she had a boyfriend, of course. But it would make it much easier if she did not.

“Any pets?”

“No. No pets. I had a cat, but he died last year.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugged, as if she were trying to say it was nothing. And yet he wasn’t fooled. He could hear the sadness in her voice. “It’s fine. He was old and it was his time. I wanted to get a kitten, but they need so much attention. Well, any cat does, really, and I work a lot so …”

Her voice trailed off and he found himself feeling somewhat guilty, as if he was at fault because she hadn’t gotten another cat. He did work long hours, and sometimes she stayed behind, too, not leaving the office until after seven or eight in the evening.

No, a cat would not like that. Neither would a boyfriend.

She shrugged again. “I’m sorry. You didn’t really want to know all that. I’m babbling.”

“I’ve never heard you babble, Faith. I would hardly classify
this as babbling.” He knew babbling. Katie had been a babbler. He’d found it somewhat annoying that she couldn’t ever stop talking, but he’d tried to keep her mouth too occupied to talk whenever they were together.

Renzo frowned. What had he ever seen in Katie? Besides the perfect body, of course? She’d been so shallow, so self-absorbed. Why had he surrounded himself with that?

“Well, I’m babbling now. My mom would say I—”

He heard her indrawn breath. “Would say what?” he prodded when she didn’t continue.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” She’d folded her hands on her lap again, and he found himself wanting to take one of her soft hands in his and rub circles in her palm the way he’d done before. Just to feel that tremor slide through her.

“You can tell me,” he said.

“I’d rather not.”

She sounded so prim, so controlled. It made him wonder. How had she worked for him for six months and he didn’t know anything about her? She didn’t seem to want to talk about her past. And though he wanted to command her to tell him what she’d been about to say, he could hardly do so. It wasn’t like he enjoyed talking about his past—his family—either.

His mother was a good woman who’d worked hard all her life, but he was still somewhat embarrassed by his origins. He shouldn’t be, but he was. Not because of her, but because of the Conte de Lucano. From the moment he’d learned who his father was when he was eight years old, the one time the man had come to see them and threatened his mother if she dared tell anyone who had fathered her child, he’d felt inferior. Damaged. Like garbage tossed on a scrap heap.

For all he knew, Faith felt the same. “You do not like talking about your family,” he said.

She sighed. “No, I don’t like talking about them. I left years ago and I’m never going back.”

It was the closest thing to a vow he’d ever heard her utter. She said it with such conviction. Such bitterness.

Such passion.

Renzo felt a jolt of awareness curl through him.
Maledizione
, was he mad? She was his PA, and though he didn’t quite understand where this sudden attraction to her sprang from, she was most definitely off-limits. She had to be. He needed to concentrate on the Viper, and he needed his efficient PA at his side, taking care of the business side of his life while he rode the hell out of the motorcycle and worked on the adjustments to the design. If he crossed the line with her, he could endanger everything—in so much as she might leave and he’d have to train a new PA when he did not have the time.

No, Renzo could not afford to endanger anything right now when time was critical. When Niccolo Gavretti was just waiting to find a weakness he could exploit in his quest to destroy Renzo and D’Angeli Motors. He should have crushed Niccolo when he’d had the chance, but he’d been sentimental.
Idiot
.

“I don’t suppose you care to tell me why,” he said, more than a little curious about what could make quiet, calm Faith Black run away from home.

Her head moved, the lights shining off her golden hair as she shook it. “Some families don’t get along,” she said. “Let’s just leave it at that.”

He could only stare. He’d thought her sweet, harmless, and here she was made of steel and wrapped in velvet. Faith did not speak to her family. It was a revelation, and he burned with curiosity as to why. He spoke to his mother
and sister regularly, couldn’t imagine not speaking to them. But here was this quiet girl telling him with such vehemence that she’d cut herself off from everyone in her life.

It stunned him. This was a woman with unsuspected depths. A woman who’d worked for him for six months, and he’d never once realized there was more to her than the face she presented him with every day.

The car pulled to a stop in front of her apartment building. He thought she might make a dash for it, but she waited for Stefan to come around and open the door. Renzo stepped out onto the pavement, his leg throbbing so badly now that he knew he would need a pain pill when he got home. At least, mercifully, the damn thing would make him sleep.

“You don’t have to see me up,” Faith said as he started toward the building door.

He turned toward her, saw the worry lines bracketing her mouth, and knew that she’d seen through him. For some reason, that made him angry.

“I do,” he said shortly, his tone brooking no argument. A part of him was saying he was a fool, but the other part—the prideful, stubborn part—insisted he could still do any damn thing he wanted to do. It was simply an issue of mind over matter. If he couldn’t conquer the little things, like stairs, how could he conquer the big things, like riding the Viper on the Grand Prix circuit?

Faith turned away in a huff and walked to the door. He followed her. She used her key to get inside the building, and then they were moving toward the stairs. She took her time, saying her high heels were bothering her, but he suspected she did it for him.

His leg cramped as he climbed the two flights, but then they were in the hall and standing before her door. Pain spiked into his leg then, radiating through his entire body
so that he leaned against the wall, certain he wouldn’t be moving for at least five minutes.
Per Dio
.

Faith unlocked her door and turned, a little gasp escaping her when she saw him standing there. “Renzo? Are you okay?”

“
Si
, of course,” he said, but his voice sounded as if he were gritting his teeth. Which he was, he realized a moment later.

Faith didn’t hesitate. She looped her arm in his. “Come in and sit down. Let me massage it for you.”

Now why, in the midst of his pain, did that thought make his libido kick into gear?

“I’ll be fine in a few moments. Just let me stand here.” It wasn’t an admission he’d wanted to make, but he wasn’t so stubborn as to deny the truth when she could clearly see it.

She frowned up at him. “I had a roommate who was a massage therapist, and she taught me some things. I’m not a professional, but I can try to ease the cramp.”

“It will go away in a moment.”

Her expression said she didn’t believe it for a minute. “I can massage it or you can stand here. Whichever you prefer. But know this. My feet hurt and I’m going inside and sitting down, with or without you.”

He swore softly in Italian, but he let her help him into the cramped living space of her apartment. He didn’t even bother trying to hide the limp this time. What was the point?

She eased him down on her sofa and then hastily moved magazines from her coffee table before bending to pick his foot up and prop it on the table. Renzo leaned his head back and closed his eyes as pain throbbed into his body.

“You shouldn’t have stood on it so long tonight,” Faith said.

“This rarely happens,” he replied automatically, though
it was a lie. In truth it happened too often of late. And what if it happened on the track? He’d been asking himself that for months now. The consequences could be disastrous. He knew what it was like to wipe out at two hundred miles an hour. Knew how lucky he’d been to wake up from the accident with pins in his leg and his head intact.

“Yes, well, you should still think of it and take opportunities to rest the leg when you can.” Faith sank down onto the couch beside him, her body pressing against his as she leaned over him and put her small hands on his thigh.

Renzo swallowed. Hard. He was in pain, yes, but he wasn’t dead. His body wanted to respond to the feel of her hands pressing into him, but he refused to allow it. His senses were filled with her—with the sweet scent of her, the tactile pressure of her hands on his body, the sound of her breath and her voice. With his eyes closed, he didn’t have to ask himself what it was about her. He could
feel
what it was, though he’d be damned if he could name it.

“The muscles are so tight,” she said. “It would be much better if you took your pants off.”

Renzo couldn’t help but laugh, though the sound was nothing like his usual laugh. He wasn’t quite sure if it was strained from the pain of his leg or the pain of fighting with himself not to reach for her. “
Cara
, you surprise me.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said, sounding all prickly and cool.

Renzo opened his eyes. She was looking at his leg, concentrating on massaging it, but a red flush had spread over her cheeks. Her face in profile was lovelier than he’d imagined. He couldn’t stop himself from lifting his hand. From sliding his finger across her soft cheek.

“And yet I could almost wish you did,” he said, and her head came up, her green eyes so wide and innocent.
Innocent? He wasn’t sure where he’d gotten that thought from.

“Are you flirting with me, Mr. D’Angeli?”

“Not if you prefer I didn’t,” he told her truthfully, disappointed that she’d retreated behind formality once more.

Her gaze dropped again. Her fingers kneaded his knotted muscles. It hurt, and yet he knew she was loosening them at the same time.

“That is exactly what I prefer,” she said. “You
are
charming, but your charm is misdirected on me.”

His brows drew together. She was bent over him, her head bowed, her cleavage frustratingly covered—and yet he would have sworn she felt the spark between them, too.

“Is it?” he asked, aggravated that she was so distant and formal.