Daring to Trust the Boss (Harlequin Romance) (11 page)

He glanced up at her. “Very few people have this private number. I have to take this.”

She nodded and sat back.

He picked up the phone. “Tucker Engle.”

“Oh, Tucker!”

“Constanzo? What’s up?”

“It’s Antonio. He is, as you say, freaking out.”

“Did you tell him you’re his dad?”

“No! He’s just going nuts about the show.”

He glanced at Olivia. “Miss Prentiss is here with me. I’m going to put you on speaker.”

He hit the button and Constanzo immediately said, “Vivi! You should be here. You calm him down.”

“You can calm him down, Constanzo.”

“I can’t.” The passion in his voice vibrated through the room.

Vivi laughed. “You can. You’re just freaking out, too. Take a breath, calm down.”

“No, you take a plane, come to me. Help me.”

Tucker sat forward. “Actually, that’s a very good idea.”

Vivi’s gaze shot to him. Though she loved being in Italy and working with Antonio, after the way Tucker had behaved these past few weeks his suggestion that she leave felt like a kick out the door.

“I’ll have her on the plane in two hours.”

“Thank you, my dear friend Tucker!”

He disconnected the call and Vivi stared at him. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

He wouldn’t look at her. “You handle Antonio very well. It’s only good common sense to send you over there.”

“Antonio is a grown man. So is Constanzo. They could deal with this.”

He finally glanced up. “You think?” When she said nothing, he tossed his pen to his desk. “Once again, you underestimate your abilities.” He shook his head. “This deal is extremely important to me. Antonio has to be cool, calm and collected when we tell him Constanzo is his dad. You calm him down.”

Because she knew that was true, she said nothing.

“I know you’re playing it by ear here, but you really are good with people.”

After weeks of no conversation, his praise was like balm to her desperate soul. “Thanks.”

“But with everything going haywire, it looks like we can’t tell Antonio that Constanzo is his dad until the show is over.”

“You want to preserve the show?”

“You don’t? It’s the one solid thing Constanzo is doing for Antonio. Even if he’s angry after we tell him Constanzo is his dad, he’ll have the showing to look back on. Something that proves to him his dad believed in him. You can’t get a much stronger connection than that.”

“You’re right.”

“So you’re in Italy for the next two weeks, until the show opening. I’ll have the driver here in ten minutes. He’ll take you to your apartment to pack and you can be in the air in two hours as I promised.”

With that he went back to work.

Vivi slowly rose from her chair, her heart lodged in her throat. She turned away as tears filled her eyes. She really didn’t want to go to Italy without him.

She didn’t want to go anywhere without him. Do anything without him.

The horrible truth was...she loved him and he was sending her away.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

E
AGER
TO
GET
his office back to normal, without a wonderful woman sitting a few feet away, tempting him to try a relationship he knew couldn’t work, Tucker immediately called Mrs. Martin in Human Resources, requesting another accountant. In ten minutes, Ward Bancroft stood in front of him.

With dark hair and dressed in a black suit, black shirt and silver tie, the kid was a mini version of Tucker, without the green eyes. His eyes were a watered down whiskey-brown that reminded him of a weasel.

“So, Mr. Bancroft, are you ready to work?”

“Absolutely. You tell me what you need and I’ll have it for you in ten minutes.”

He eased forward on his chair. Even though he appreciated a bit of enthusiasm, he preferred dignity. “Some assignments require more attention than ten minutes.”

“Oh, absolutely! I’m sorry!” To Tucker’s horror he seemed to get even more enthusiastic. “You tell me what you need and I will do it in the best possible way.”

“Terrific.” He shuffled the papers on his desk until he found the background-information sheet he needed. “This company could potentially be a great project. But the financials look a little too good to be true.” He handed the sheet across the desk. “I want you to tear their annual statement apart, see what they’re hiding.”

He nearly snapped to attention. “Yes, sir!”

He headed out of the office and Tucker said, “Close the door on your way out.”

“Absolutely,” he singsonged.

As the door closed behind him, Tucker rolled his eyes. But at least his office felt back to normal. No pretty blue-eyed strawberry blonde, tempting him to talk, to laugh, to like her.

He’d never wanted anything the way he wanted her. But they were wrong for each other. And it was
her
he was protecting from the pain that would result if they tried a relationship and it failed. She’d been through enough in her life without him putting her through something else.

By noon, the sounds of the silence of his office began to close in on him, but, luckily, he had a lunch out with Elias and Ricky to discuss the details of a new ad campaign created by the ad firm Tucker had hired.

Rick and Elias rose as he approached the table and so did the pretty blonde seated by Elias.

“Melinda Fornwalt, this is Tucker Engle.”

She smiled and shook his hand. Painted up the way Maria usually was, Melinda might be pretty but since working with Vivi he sort of liked women with less makeup. Or maybe natural beauty?

“So this is Tucker Engle? The guy who made you rich.”

Tucker held back a smile. Her voice and manners screamed socialite, somebody who lived the life of charities and theatre and loved it. He suspected Ricky had brought her on board to give the company the touch of class it was lacking.

“Yes and no. I paid to get controlling interest in their company but they were the ones with the idea. They made themselves rich.”

She sat and the men sat.

“Still, you’re quite the entrepreneur.”

He removed his napkin. “Not really. My forte is buying existing companies. I’m more like a renovator than a carpenter.”

She laughed. “Not just handsome and smart, you’re funny, too.”

His eyes narrowed. Was she coming on to him? She might be the kind of woman he typically dated, but for some reason or another, her flirting made him uneasy. No. Not uneasy. He didn’t like it. At all.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your position with the company.”

Elias cleared his throat. “She’s not really with the company. She’s with me.”

He almost said, “And you tolerate her flirting with other men?” But he stopped himself if only to keep the situation civil. Unfortunately, as quickly as he thought that, he also imagined Vivi rolling her eyes about Melinda dating Elias and flirting with Tucker. And being correct. The woman was after Elias’s money. That is, if she couldn’t catch a bigger fish while going out with Elias.

He caught Ricky’s gaze. “I’m guessing that means we won’t be discussing the ad campaign you received.”

Ricky shook his head as if to say he didn’t know what was going on, but Elias blanched. “We can still talk about it.”

“I never discuss business in front of people who don’t have a financial interest in the project.” He rose. “In fact, since we have to reschedule anyway, I think I’ll go back to my office.”

As soon as he was out on the street, he was sorry. Not only did he not want to go back to the overly keen Ward, but he was hungry. The scents of food beckoned but the one that caused him to stop came from the Chinese restaurant.

The last time he’d eaten Chinese, he’d been with Vivi’s family. It had been a strange lunch, but he kept remembering how embarrassed Vivi had been. If there was one thing Vivi wasn’t, it was a gold digger.

He shook his head. She was so determined to prove herself. So honest. So much fun. And that kiss in Italy had knocked him for a loop.

He didn’t want to miss her, but he did. And not because Ward Bancroft was hard to work with. Because he liked Vivi—Olivia.

Just remembering her telling him to call her Olivia, caused his heart to jolt. He liked who he was with her. He especially liked talking to her. Honestly talking to her. And he’d sent her thousands of miles away.

* * *

The grassy fields of Italy relaxed Vivi, but working with Patrice and Antonio invigorated her. Even though the pair argued constantly, Vivi always seemed to be able to see a compromise position. They got more work done in two days than Patrice and Antonio had managed in the two weeks she’d been gone.

After a fattening supper of homemade butternut squash ravioli and two hours playing rummy with Constanzo, she took a long, hot shower and shimmied into a pair of pajamas, ready for sleep.

But as she tucked the covers to her chin and closed her eyes, the company cell phone rang. Tucker had given it to her in the last seconds before she left the office to pack for her trip. He’d said he didn’t want to lose this deal and she was to call him if anything changed or if she needed help.

She didn’t need help...but maybe he needed her?

Or maybe he just missed her?

Her heart skipped a beat. Two days out of each other’s company and she’d missed him. Was it so unbelievable to think he might have missed her?

She grabbed the phone and said, “Hello.”

“I think my new assistant wants my life.”

Though his voice was serious and maybe even a tad desperate, she couldn’t help it. She laughed.

“The little snot even dresses like me.”

She sat up, made herself comfortable against the headboard. She could have taken him to task for not speaking to her in the weeks before Constanzo called her back to Italy. She could have reminded him he’d told her he didn’t want to get personal because he couldn’t be the man she wanted. She could have asked him if he really thought she could just drop her hurt feelings and talk to him now as if nothing had happened.

But she didn’t. His life had been difficult, and maybe she needed to cut him some slack, give him some time to work out how he felt.

“You always told me you didn’t care what I dressed like as long as I could do the job.”

“He does everything too fast.”

“And you’re afraid he’s missing things?”

“Absolutely.” He groaned. “That’s his word. Absolutely. I ask for a report, he says, absolutely. I ask for coffee, he says absolutely.”

“He’s driving you nuts.”

“He truly is.”

“Want some advice?”

“It’s why I called.”

Her lips lifted into a happy smile. He trusted her. That’s why he’d told her the little snippet of his past on spaghetti night. That’s why he’d sent her to Italy without him. He might not
want
to like and trust her but he did. He’d come to a problem he couldn’t solve and he’d turned to her.

“Call him in and tell him to relax. Or do what you did with me. Take him to a meeting. Make sure he knows he’s to be seen and not heard. Remind him that a good assistant is nearly invisible.”

“I didn’t tell you that.” His voice had calmed, almost warmed.

She settled more deeply into her pillow. Maybe he really had missed her, too? Or maybe it was just easier talking long distance? “Not in those words. But after the signing you told me that you appreciated that I hadn’t said anything.”

“And you extrapolated the rest?”

She thought about that. “Yeah, I guess.”

“That’s why you’re good with people. You don’t just read between the lines, you read the right subtext between the lines.” He paused only slightly before he said, “How’s Antonio?”

“I don’t think Antonio is the problem. I think it’s Patrice. She likes schedules and timetables. Antonio sort of marches to his own drummer.”

“Have you gotten him to put on a shirt?”

She laughed. “He always wears a shirt now.”

“Yeah, but is it buttoned?”

The tone of his voice sent a little jolt of hope to her lonely heart. “Are you jealous?”

“No. More like confused. Wondering if I’d get better deals if I stopped wearing ties and showed off a little chest hair.”

She laughed with delight and Tucker settled more comfortably into his seat in the limo. He’d missed her terribly. It was wrong, and calling her probably wasn’t fair to her, but he’d needed to hear her voice. He’d happily jumped on the excuse of needing advice about his new assistant.

“Seriously, how’s it going over there?”

“Actually it’s going very well. Antonio considers Constanzo his benefactor and by default a mentor. He seems to like and trust him. I’d say we could tell him now that Constanzo’s his dad, except I don’t want to screw up his showing.”

“I agree. That show needs to go well.”

“Especially since Antonio’s invested in it. This isn’t just his career. Painting is his life. I want to tread lightly here. I want to do this right.”

The limo pulled up to Tucker’s building. “Then we’ll do it right.” Maurice opened the door. “Trust your gut, Miss Prentiss. So far you seem to be doing very well.”

He stepped out onto the street and inhaled the fresh New York City air after a rain storm. The empty, hollow feeling he’d been carrying around in his gut since she’d left had disappeared. He’d gotten the advice he’d wanted about his new assistant and received an update on her circumstances. There was nothing more to say.

“Good night, Miss Prentiss.”

He disconnected the call and headed to the penthouse of his Park Avenue apartment. The quiet of the elevator rattled through him, reminding him again that in his sixties he’d be Constanzo Bartulocci.

When the doors opened on his slick white, black and chrome apartment, the silence was deafening. He unexpectedly wished he’d kept Olivia on the phone for another ten minutes, at least until he had a drink in his hand and the sports channel on TV. But that was foolish. Stupid. He couldn’t have her. As he’d told her, he couldn’t be what she wanted. And he was going to have to control this.

Tomorrow. For tonight, he was glad he’d called. Glad she’d made him laugh. Glad she was doing well.

The next day, he did as Olivia had suggested. He took Ward Bancroft to a lunch meeting. He told him it was not his job to talk, but to be available to find information and to observe. At the meeting, the kid was so quiet one wouldn’t have even known he was there.

In the limo on the way back, Tucker complimented him on a job well done and Ward virtually glowed.

Every assignment he gave him that afternoon was completed with the utmost care, and he had a much more professional tone with visitors.

Of course, most of his visitors had liked Olivia better, but that was beside the point. He had companies to run, jobs to be done, investments to be investigated. He and his assistant were not there to have fun.

Still, riding up the elevator to the penthouse that night, he pulled out his cell and speed-dialed Olivia.

“Hello.”

“You sound freshly showered.”

“Now how would you know that?”

He smiled shrewdly. He wasn’t the only one who could handle people. “I don’t. I took a wild guess and led you into a statement that confirmed it.
That’s
how I deal with people.”

“I prefer my direct approach.”

“I sort of like being sneaky.”

“No kidding.”

The elevator ride wasn’t interminable. The doors opening on his penthouse apartment didn’t feel like the boring, silent gates of hell yawning open before him. He slid out of his jacket and walked to the bar.

“I did what you suggested with Mr. Bancroft and today he was as sharp as a brand-new pencil.”

“That’s great.”

After pouring two fingers of Scotch, he fell to a furry white chaise. He put his feet up. Put his shoulders back. Sipped his favorite malt liquor and savored.

“We work like a well-oiled machine. He knows the right questions to ask. He doesn’t ask stupid things. I think I’ve found a keeper.”

His happiness was met with resounding silence and he stared at the phone for a few seconds before she said, “That’s really good for him. And you. I guess.”

“Miss Prentiss, you’ve done nothing but whine about wanting to be in Accounting since the day I dragged you kicking and screaming out of HR. Why would the news that I found someone who fits the position upset you?”

“Nobody wants to be so easily replaced, Tucker.”

“You haven’t really been replaced. Technically, you’ve moved on.”

“To become a babysitter?”

“To become a manager. A business manager for Antonio.”

“I hardly feel like a business manager.”

“What do you think mangers do? They solve goofy nitpicky problems.”

Her cautiously optimistic voice tiptoed across the Atlantic to him. “So I’m a manager?”

“And you could suggest to Constanzo that he hire you permanently for his son.”

Her breath hissed over the phone. “Are you trying to get rid of me
completely?
”

“No.” His own breath stumbled. What
was
he doing? “I just...It’s just... Well, some people are made to be assistants and some people are meant to be...more.”

“You’re telling me I’m made to be more?”