The Italian's Runaway Princess. Andrea Bolter
all day worrying if she was okay. And he needed his concentration today. “Why don’t you go out and see some sights? We’ll meet later and I can complain to you about my workday.”
A giggle escaped from her, which brought a lovable little blush to her cheeks.
She had been an utterly flawless dinner date last night, charming his investors by laughing at their unfunny jokes and asking questions about their families to get them talking about themselves. Gio despised making small talk. Luci, who had appeared poised and almost regal in her blue silk dress, knew exactly how to field the evening, which took the pressure off him. He could return the favor. After that, she’d be out of his life and on with her holiday.
“It’s settled, then. Why don’t you leave your luggage here?” Gio stood and gathered up his things, having been alerted on his phone that his driver was here. “Where can my driver drop you?”
“I’ll just wander out on my own.”
He escorted her to the street. “See you here at six.”
Gio’s driver, Viggo, delivered him to the street-level glass doors of the Grasstech headquarters. The family kept a much larger campus of offices outside the city, but this central Florence location was where the company’s important decisions were still made. Gio passed through to the main reception area where a few employees were congregating.
“Hello, Mr. Grassi,” one greeted.
“Good morning, sir,” another followed.
“Welcome, Mr. Grassi.”
While he generally interacted with everyone he met on a first-name basis, he quite approved of the employees here addressing him formally at first. It was important to establish sole authority immediately.
That had been part of the problem with his brother in the top seat. While he admired Dante as being more of a people person than he was—his brother had become a sort of brand ambassador for their company—Gio doubted he elicited much respect among the staff. Because, unfortunately, Dante spent more time being photographed with a different woman on his arm each evening at social functions than he did overseeing the company’s operations. Whereas Gio understood the ins and outs of Grasstech’s stronghold in the tech world and had specific plans on how to increase their dominance against the competition.
While Dante had been happy to use the press to his advantage, the media were actually Gio’s first challenge of the day.
As he made his way down the corridor to the corner office that was originally his father’s, Gio was aware of a pretty assistant in step beside him. Although she was an attractive young woman, Gio found his mind immediately flashed back to Luci’s gracious smile as she engaged the older ladies last night with a discussion of favorite holiday memories. Something about Luci had gotten under his skin. Which he needed to put a stop to right away. The last thing he wanted to be embroiled with was a woman, especially now that deceitful Francesca was the cause of his most pressing problem.
“What can I get you, Mr. Grassi?” the assistant asked as she escorted him into his office.
“A large bottle of cold water. And send in Samuele, thank you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Mio amico.” Samuele di Nofri greeted Gio with a bear hug and affirmation of their lifelong friendship. The older man was Grasstech’s director of operations and had been working with the company since the day Gio’s father conceived of it. “Finally, we have you back in Firenze.”
“Sit.” Gio gestured to one of the leather chairs that faced his sleek steel desk.
“It was like yesterday that you were a boy, sitting at one of those desktop computers we used to keep here.” Samuele pointed to a wall where a row of clunky old computers used to be lined up. Before everyone had laptops that weighed less than a cup of coffee. “Six years old and you would sit for hours writing code.”
“Technology has come a long way since then.”
“Grazie al cielo.” Samuele kissed two fingers and lifted them to the sky.
“Although then, we didn’t worry as much about security and hacking. Now look what I caused the company to have to deal with.”
“It happens.”
Yes, Gio’s early proclivity for computers had led him to eventually receive multiple degrees from Stanford University in California’s Silicon Valley. Then after years of apprenticeship in Tokyo, he emerged as one of the world’s most respected component designers.
What Gio’s education and experience hadn’t taught him was how to look out for Francesca and her kind. With her eight-foot-long legs and her crimson red lips, she was a skilled and practiced seductress. She had set her sights on the workaholic techie Grassi brother and had not relented until she’d got what she wanted. Which was not his heart.
No, what Francesca wanted were secrets about Grasstech’s new memory modules that were destined to take drop-in compatibility wider than the industry had seen before. So while Gio was conceiving, designing, testing and troubleshooting, Francesca had done what she did best.
Francesca Nefando, who had been hired to run analytic reports, was actually a world-class hacker. In a tight skirt and high heels.
“Fine, Samuele, you say it happens.” Gio grimaced at the memory of the day he found out his proprietary DIMMs, dual inline memory modules, were being developed by a rival company with information only an insider could know. Samuele’s kindly eyes tried to offer some comfort. “But now that the industry press has found out, Grasstech could look weak in the field.”
“That’s why the board of directors tell me that they want you to issue a statement to the media. Because you are taking over as the CEO, they see this as an opportunity to solidify your name as the trailblazer of the company. That alone will help deflect the breach.”
“Me? We have public relations people for this.”
“Yes. But put it in your own words, Gio. It will sound authentic and announce your personal style of leadership.”
He watched Samuele’s mouth form words, but Gio was having a hard time actually listening. Because his blood was boiling thinking back to the strategy Francesca had designed to seduce him. Once he’d begun to trust her, she’d started to ask questions that required long nights of huddling together over a laptop in bed, her auburn hair almost sickly sweet from the gardenia-scented shampoo she used.
Francesca had taught him a lesson he would never forget. He would never let anyone get that close to him again. But, weirdly, his thoughts meandered back to Luci this morning, so seemingly harmless as she stood on the balcony in her nightgown.
“What should I say in the press release? That I let a woman get the best of me?”
“No, Gio. Mull it over. You’ll come up with something.”
“Samuele, before you go. Can you look for a room at a decent hotel for about three weeks?”
Samuele regarded him quizzically.
“One of our investors isn’t happy with where he’s staying.”
Gio took a deep breath. He had a full schedule and a multibillion-dollar company to run. So why was he already looking forward to seeing Luci again tonight?
* * *
“Drop us here,” Gio instructed Viggo as the car approached the Piazza della Signoria. It had been ages since the piazza had been his destination. If he’d seen it at all during the past few years, it had been because he was merely crossing through to get to a meeting at an office or restaurant. Viggo let him and Luci out of the back seat.
Gio had decided to take her out. They’d have dinner in one of the osterias whose piazza-facing patios would still be warm enough in the autumn evening.
“Oh, my gosh.” Luci brought her hand over her mouth in genuine reverence