An Inconvenient Love (Crimson Romance) (2 page)

A hesitant smile played about her lips. “I wasn’t rescuing you. I was saving Chet Wilkins. He was getting more embarrassed each time she touched you. Mr. Wilkins is a nice man; he’s been to the office several times. I didn’t like watching his wife flirt with someone in front of him.”

Damn, she hadn’t been checking him out. He had to force a smile. “Well, whatever your motive, I am grateful. Can I get you another drink?” He glanced down at her hand; the champagne was still at the same level it had been when he’d first seen her almost forty-five minutes ago.

“No, I’m good. Don’t let me detain you. I’m sure there must be other important people here you’d like to talk with.”

Was she trying to get rid of him? She’d met his gaze briefly before staring at his left shoulder. “Why do you feel you are not important?”

“I’m the receptionist.” She shrugged, her gaze only flicking to his momentarily.

“Receptionists are the first introduction to a company. They are vital in portraying the correct image. You should never think less of yourself.”

“It’s only a job.”

“Well if you could be anything you wanted, what would it be?”

“A ninja.” This time her eyes did meet his and the laughter was back in their green depths.

Whether it was the audacity of her reply or her smile he wasn’t sure, but he sucked in a deep breath. “An interesting career choice. Why would you like to be a ninja?”

“Black’s my favorite color.” Her flippant answer made him smile.

“So what is holding you back? A lack of black outfits?”

She laughed. “Ah, if only. No, the best ninja schools are in Japan, and I don’t have a passport.” She shrugged and looked once again over his shoulder.

“Am I keeping you from someone? Your husband or boyfriend?” He’d noticed in the office she didn’t wear a ring, and there had been no photos on her desk. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t involved with someone. He repressed the disappointment that swept through him.

“No, I’m here alone. I only came because Mr. Bodman insisted everyone in the company attend. But I think I’ve stayed long enough. I see Mr. Wilkins steering his wife toward the exit, so you should be safe now.”

“Safe, thanks to you. In fact your timely intervention has given me an idea. Will you meet me tomorrow? I have an opportunity I would like to discuss with you.”

“You need a part-time ninja to protect you?”

“Something like that.”

Sophia tilted her head to one side and stared at him. Finally she shrugged her delicate shoulders again. “I usually take a walk around St. James’s Park at lunchtime. I’ll be on the bridge at 12:30 if you still want to talk with me.” She spoke as though she didn’t really believe he would show up.

“Tomorrow at 12:30 then.”

Her eyes searched his face but he kept his expression carefully neutral. If she discovered his interest, she may not come. The plan that had started when she slipped her hand into his had solidified with their brief conversation. Yes, Sophia Stevens would do very nicely.

• • •

Sophia stood on the bridge and looked out over the lake to the fountain and Buckingham Palace in the background. Spring had come early; the trees were in bloom and crocuses and daffodils soaked up the sunshine. To stop from searching for Luca, she stared at the ducks. A male mallard was enticing a female with a display of his bright plumage. She wished she were a duck. They didn’t worry about paying the rent or putting their brother through college.

She should have brought some water to drink. Her mouth was so dry, she may not be able to talk. If he came. Having tossed and turned half the night, she’d finally reached the conclusion that Luca must be opening an office in London and wanted to employ her. Then she’d spent the rest of the night working out exactly how much salary she could reasonably request. If she asked for too much, he’d think her greedy. If she asked for too little, she’d be a drone for the rest of her life, never achieving her dream of her own interior design company.

The question she hadn’t been able to answer was whether she could actually work for him. She’d been unable to concentrate when he sat across from her in the office. And then last night at the party she could barely meet his gaze, sure he’d be able to see through her veil of bravado to the frightened girl inside.

Lost in her problems, she didn’t notice Luca approach until his arm brushed hers on the bridge rail. She took a deep, calming breath. Her mouth suddenly started to salivate, and his intoxicating aftershave lured her to lean closer. He’d come.

“I am pleased to see you again.” Perhaps it was her imagination, but his accent seemed thicker today. He was immaculate, not a hair out of place, his suit undoubtedly costing more than she made all month. He was way beyond her league. What else could he want except a receptionist?

“You said you had a job opportunity to discuss with me.” She moved her arm away so they no longer touched. What was he playing at? Did he think because she’d slipped her hand into his at the party that she was available for an affair? Well, if so, he’d find out soon enough she wasn’t going to sleep with him just because he was rich, and powerful, and gorgeous.

“An opportunity, yes. As you know, I own a property development and restoration company in the north of Italy, based in Milan.” His low voice, so close, sounded like they were sharing an illicit secret. “I am now in a position to sign some large contracts with British and American companies, like Chet Wilkins. However, my secretary, who is very good, does not speak fluent English. I cannot afford to have misunderstandings.”

Excitement raced through her. It was a job offer. And from the sound of it, based in Italy. She was tired of London. Tired of working two, sometimes three, jobs just to make ends meet, never getting ahead. A move to Italy would be the change she longed for, a chance to escape the constant reminders of her horrific past. Before she could respond however, he continued.

“I need more than just an English-speaking secretary. I have reached a point in my life where all my business associates are married, and new clients are always asking about my personal life. It seems to disconcert them when I say I am unmarried, and it is becoming a hindrance to my success. Family is very important in Italy. It is seen as a sign of stability. However, my entire focus at the moment is on building my business. I do not have the time now, or in the foreseeable future, to romance a woman. Besides, a wife who loved me would expect me to be home every night and probably feel neglected with the amount of time I spend working.”

Sophia struggled to keep her face neutral and not let her puzzlement show. Why was he talking about his need for a wife?

“Last night at the party you proved to me you are able to read a situation and act appropriately. I also believe you are good at your job. Walter is an astute man; he would not have kept you employed if you were not a hard worker.” He leaned toward her. His voice had dropped even more, and she wondered where he was going with this so-called opportunity.

“I think, therefore, that I should align my requirements and seek an English wife. One who would be able to assist me in my business, and also provide the home life expected of a man in my position. Are you interested?” He turned to her, his eyes sweeping over her face, awaiting her response. His smile held a hint of warmth, but his eyes were guarded, as though there was something he wasn’t telling. Something that prompted him to ask her, of all people.

This was it. She’d finally snapped. Her brain had imploded from worry and boredom, and as a result she was fantasizing about marriage proposals and being swept away to live in a castle in Italy. At this point she should reach into her pocket and pull out the other glass slipper. Except the only thing in her pocket was lint. And the only romance in her life was in the books she read. Maybe Luca was the one having a meltdown? She searched his face for some sign of insanity.

He looked serious. The contents of her stomach shifted. The man had actually just proposed to her. “Mr. Castellioni, I’m sure there’s a long line of suitable women who would love to marry you. We only met yesterday. And as I told you at the party, I’m just a receptionist.”

“You called me Luca last evening. What has changed?”

Aside from one of them going completely insane? Him for proposing … or her for actually considering it and not walking away.

“Last night was for show, to help Mr. Wilkins. This is … ”

“This is between us. I can assure you there is no other woman I would consider marrying. I realize it may seem absurd to speak of marriage when we have recently met. You said last night you were alone. Did I misunderstand? Are you in a relationship?”

“No, no, I’m not involved with anyone. But that doesn’t mean I am going to run off and marry the first man who asks me,” she replied.
Even if he is incredibly gorgeous
.
What kind of man offers marriage to a complete stranger? One who considered marriage a business arrangement, obviously. Could I do the same?

“You do not have to give me an answer now. Have dinner with me tonight, and we can get to know each other. I would appreciate, though, if you would keep this discussion between us.” He leaned forward again and there was an intensity in his dark eyes but a warmth, too, a banked passion that both unsettled and intrigued her.

Dazed, she agreed to meet him again at Quaglino’s. Sophia didn’t even ask how he had managed to get a table at a restaurant that was usually booked a month in advance. She was sure if he just showed up, the maître d’ would lose someone else’s reservation in order to accommodate him. If he expected her to bow to his every desire he was in for a shock. Sophia Stevens was no man’s doormat. But she wasn’t about to reject him without discovering exactly what he wanted.

And what she could get out of the deal.

Luca finished his martini and put the empty glass on the bar of the West End restaurant. Sophia was forty minutes late. Perhaps he’d read the signs wrong and she wasn’t coming. He was sure, though, that he’d seen a hint of curiosity in her eyes. Eyes that in the bright spring sunshine had surprised him with flecks of gold and amber amid the green.

He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t show. She must think him a complete
idiota
to propose marriage after twenty-four hours. But it seemed the most logical course of action. He needed someone to proofread his English letters and a wife to deter other women.

Two weeks ago, a very important prospective client had brought his wife to their business dinner. She’d spent almost the entire evening with her hand on Luca’s upper thigh under the table, despite his best efforts to remove it. He’d have shrugged it off as a bored woman looking for mischief, but she was the third wife of a business acquaintance this year who thought he was part of the package deal. Last night had been the worst because Leslie Wilkins hadn’t even tried to be subtle.

He didn’t do married women. Ever.

But it seemed his plan had failed before it even started. He tossed a couple of bills on the bar and was about to leave when he caught sight of Sophia standing in the doorway. His pulse quickened, but he put it down to relief that she’d showed. It had nothing to do with the way her blue dress brought out the gold in her hair, or the sway of her hips as she approached him. A little voice in his head warned that if he were a wise man, he’d get on the next plane back to Milan and forget he ever saw her. But he hadn’t got where he was today by playing it safe all the time. Risk was a part of business. And this was business. The little voice laughed.

“Sorry I’m late, there was a security alert on the Tube,” she greeted him. Her voice was breathy and a light flush covered her skin. Whether it was from a rush to get to the restaurant, or she experienced the same physical attraction, he wasn’t sure.

“It is not a problem. Our table is ready, but if you would prefer a drink first … ”

“Oh, no. I’m starved.” She gave him another of her dazzling smiles.

Luca signaled to the maître d’, who sat them at a prime table near the bottom of the stairs where they could see and be seen. However, he didn’t take his attention from Sophia. She smelled faintly of cucumbers and melon, a refreshing change from the sickly perfume most women of his acquaintance seemed to bathe in.

She glanced around the restaurant. “I’ve always wanted to come here. I pass by on my way to work and wondered what it was like inside. I’m surprised you managed to get a table on a Friday night. It’s packed.”

“I have my ways. Shall I order champagne? Or perhaps you would like to try my country’s equivalent, Prosecco?”

“Not for me. Sparkling wine goes straight to my head. I’m not much of a drinker. A glass of water will do.” She buried her head behind her menu, and he waited until she shut it with a decisive snap.

“Have you decided?”

“About dinner? I’ll have the sea bass.” She avoided his eyes again.

He wanted to ask if she’d decided about his proposal, but left the question unasked. It was unnerving how much he wanted her to say yes. For the first time he’d laid all his cards on the table and left himself open to a blunt refusal.

They should get to know each other. “Have you always lived in London?” It seemed an easy enough place to start. Except she straightened in her chair and fiddled with the cutlery next to her plate.

“Yes.” She answered sharply. She took a gulp of water. “What about you? You said your company was based in Milan. Do you live in the city?”

“I have a flat in Milan where I stay if I am working late. However, I recently renovated a villa about an hour north of my office. It has extensive grounds and is on the edge of a very old village.” He loved the villa, it was his dream home, visual proof that his hard work had resulted in success. Yet there was something missing—a heart and soul that couldn’t be restored as easy as wood beams and plaster.

“It sounds beautiful. Is your company a family business?”

“My father was a laborer in the construction business. I worked with him during summer holidays in my teens. When he died, I started my own company. Soon I had so many contracts that I had to take on additional workers. I got my university degree by studying nights, and just completed my MBA.”