Unwordly Secretary, Gorgeous Boss. Lee Wilkinson
startling proposition. Now, because of it, she had the sense of tumbling at speed down a steep rocky incline, with no prospect of anything to halt her flight except even more rocks.
‘I have no illusions about love affairs … none at all’, he’d almost violently asserted, and she had known in that instant that his ex-wife’s betrayal had destroyed his faith in love. He’d never got it back. Secretly her heart went out to him, but she had been hurt too—and badly—yet she knew she had not surrendered all hope of loving and being loved again.
‘Returning to the concert,’ he said now, rubbing his hand round his strikingly sculpted, smoothly shaved jaw. ‘I want you front of house with me, and I also want you to announce the performers.’
‘What?’
‘You have earned the right, Laura.’
His voice had all the fiercely powerful magic of a tropical moonlit night enfolding her, and he slid his hand underneath the weight of her hair and stroked the side of her neck. The melting, liquid feeling this induced was turning her bones to rubber again, and she opened her grey eyes very wide as her gaze spilled into his. She knew she should pull away, put some distance between them to show him she wasn’t going to fall like some windfall apple right into his hands, but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
‘I’ve only done the job you hired me to do,’ she replied quietly. ‘And perhaps you’d better stop touching me like this … somebody might see.’
‘I have made you an offer of marriage, Laura. Do you think that when my staff know that they will be surprised that I want to touch you?’
At his unexpected, somewhat provocative answer, Laura finally found the will to withdraw from him. ‘In your own words, you have made me a business proposition—and now you’re acting like it’s a real marriage you’re proposing!’
‘When we are married, it will be a real marriage—in almost every sense.’
‘Will it? That’s not the impression I got at all.’ Shivering, Laura turned her back on him, so that he wouldn’t see the sudden glimmer of moisture in her eyes. He might believe he could live without love, but she knew differently. To exist without love meant you were consigning yourself to only half a life. After what she had been through and survived, she wanted so much more than that. ‘And you’re talking like my mind has been made up, as if I’ve already agreed to your proposal, when I haven’t!’
‘Then I apologise, if you think I am putting unfair pressure on you.’ Fabian’s hands were on her shoulders, turning her back to face him. There was a slight shift of awareness in his expression—almost surprise—as he registered her emotion. ‘I will wait for your answer until after the concert, as we agreed.’
The white diaphanous curtains at the patio doors blew up in a sudden fierce gust, and the tension in the air seemed to thicken. ‘I think we’re going to have rain tonight,’ Laura murmured, her blood heating because he was touching her again. ‘Maybe even a storm.’ Mark’s touch had never made her feel like this … not even at the beginning of their marriage. And in the end … she’d hardly been able to bear him touching her at all …
‘If you are frightened of storms, my bedroom is just along the corridor from yours, Laura.’
‘I’m not frightened of them,’ she said, slipping out of his grasp and running her hand over her hair.
‘I like them, as a matter of fact! I’m feeling extremely tired all of a sudden … I need to turn in. I’ll see you in the morning.’
‘By the way … Before you go, you will need a gown for tomorrow … something beautiful and elegant to wear. I have asked a good friend of mine who is a designer in Milano to bring a selection for you to choose. I have guessed your size, and I pride myself on having a very good eye for detail.’
Feeling surprise and heat throb through her at the idea that he’d been studying her figure and estimating her size, Laura stared. ‘You didn’t need to do that!’
‘Si … I did. This event is going to be a glittering, fashionable affair, and I would not have my hostess for the evening dressed in anything less than haute couture!’
‘Yes, but I wish you’d mentioned all this before, Fabian. I don’t think I’m entirely comfortable with the idea of being on show—not to mention standing up in front of all those important people and announcing the performers! That’s definitely something I didn’t expect!’
‘You seem to persist in wanting to hide yourself!’ His tone exasperated, Fabian glowered. ‘Your body, your talent … What else will you try to hide from me, Laura?’
Immediately thinking of Mark—of why he had crashed their car that dreadful night—Laura felt her blood suddenly run as cold as the grave, and her hand visibly shook as she smoothed it down over the front of her cream top.
‘Goodnight, Fabian.’ She brushed past him before he could try and waylay her.
CHAPTER SIX
‘LAURA? This is my good friend Dante Pasolini. He has brought some gowns for you to try on.’
Persuading Laura away from work this morning had not been easy, Fabian found. Certainly her dedication and conscientious approach to the task in hand was not to be faulted, yet he could hardly suppress the impatience that arose inside him at her reluctance to even look at the beautiful dresses that Dante had selected at Fabian’s request. Now, as she stretched out her hand to greet the older man, she was clearly taken aback when the stylishly dressed Maestro of Italian haute couture kissed her soundly on both cheeks, then held her away from him, so that he could run his expert gaze up and down her figure.
‘But she is perfect, Fabian!’ he announced in English. ‘Like a young Grace Kelly! You have made my task very easy today. Come, signorina—my Aladdin’s Cave of exquisite delights awaits you! AQ 21Fabian, per favore, wait here and we will present my selection to you one by one.’
Immediately Fabian saw how uncomfortable Laura was with this idea—but he would not accede to her discomfort and go away. He was just like any other Italian when it came to beautiful things, and he was intrigued to see this private little fashion parade Dante had in store. So he took up residence in a high-backed armchair in the luxurious salon that overlooked the blaze of elegant white marquees glinting in the sunshine, and ignored Laura’s silent plea.
There was a small vestibule, and then another room leading off that, which was where Dante had set up his rail of stunning dresses. As he watched the two of them disappear, Fabian mulled over the coming concert, sensing the old resentment towards his father return. He should have brought the event to an end a long time ago because of the distress it caused him, but he’d resisted because of the substantial amounts of money it raised for the children’s hospice. If it weren’t for that, it would no longer be the one uncomfortable sticking point in his calendar.
He wasn’t afraid of not carrying out to the letter the instructions in Roberto’s will. After all … what could his despotic tyrannical spirit do? Haunt him from the grave? Yet after their visit to the hospice, and engaging with those incredible children again, Fabian knew he would not call a halt to the yearly concerts. Scraping his hand resignedly through his hair, he turned his mind instead towards the future for a moment. With a sudden great yearning he thought about what his own children would be like when he became a father. He did not doubt they would help bring more meaning and purpose to his life … something he had been craving for a very long time. Work, money, admiration—these were empty pursuits in comparison, and the satisfaction in all of them momentary and fleeting.
Caught up in his thoughts, it took him a couple of seconds to register the fact that Dante was at the door gesturing to him with what was definitely a worried expression on his face. In a torrent of concerned Italian, the older man told him what was the problem. His stomach gripped with disquiet, Fabian followed him back into the room he had just vacated.
Laura