Falling for Her Billionaire Boss

Chapter 1

“Ms. Ross? Mr. Fiori has arrived.”

He was here.

“Thank you, Becky. Show him in.”

Mari ran a hand over her already smooth hair, trying hard not to resent a man she’d never met. Luca Fiori, golden son of the Fiori Resort empire. Rich, powerful, and according to her online research, a bit of a playboy.

Just what she—and the hotel—needed. Not.

She could just make out the sound of his voice, smooth and warm, coming from the reception area. The sound sent a flutter through her tummy. Becky would be bringing him back any moment. Perhaps she should go out to meet him. Yes, that would probably be the genial, professional thing to do. But her feet wouldn’t move. Instead she turned her head to both sides, assessing the office as if through a stranger’s eyes. Her new office, though she couldn’t help feeling a bit of an interloper. What Fiori needed to see was a woman confident in her new position—even if she wasn’t.

She made sure everything was in its place. There must not be a speck of dust or scrap of paper. Everything had to be perfect. The only thing that revealed she’d even been there that morning was her mug, half-full of cold tea, a faint half-moon of lipstick marring the cream-colored ceramic.

Mari inhaled, then let it out slowly, trying to relax her shoulders. She carried all her tension there and right now her shoulders were sitting close to her ears, she was so nervous. She dropped them and attempted a smile. She had to show him she was up to the job…the job she’d had for exactly two weeks and three days.

Seconds later Becky returned, extending a hand and showing Luca into the office.

All Mari’s practiced greetings flew out of her head.

“Mr. Fiori.”

The pictures didn’t do him justice, she realized, as her heart gave a definitive thud. He was taller than he seemed from the online pictures. He was wearing a suit, but with such a casual flair she wasn’t sure it actually could be called a suit at all. Black trousers and shoes and a white shirt, open at the collar, with a black jacket worn carelessly over top. The unbuttoned collar revealed a slice of tanned skin and he tucked his hand into his trouser pocket just before she lifted her eyes to his face.

She’d been caught assessing. His twinkling eyes told her so and the crooked, cocky smile confirmed it. Her cheeks flushed as her gaze skittered away.

“Ms. Ross, the acting manager, I presume?”

She wet her lips and pasted on a smile, trying hard to ignore the heat that blossomed anew in her face at the sound of his smooth, rich voice. She extended her hand. “Yes. Welcome to the Bow Valley Inn.”

“You mean The Fiori Cascade.”

Mari went cold. Of course. She’d received the memo about the name change and had simply forgotten it in her nervousness. She looked up at Luca’s mouth. He was smiling, at least, not angry with her for the slip.

She pulled her hand out of his, attempting to keep the polite turn of her lips in place. “Yes, of course. Old habits.” She gestured to a small seating area. “Come in and sit down. I’ll ask Becky for some refreshment.”

“Why don’t we go to the lounge, instead?” He raised one eyebrow at her. “I passed one as I came through the lobby. It’ll help give me a feel of the place. And coffee is much more intimate, don’t you think?”

Mari’s hand froze on the handset of the phone. This wasn’t what she’d planned. Her pulse drummed at the word ‘intimate.’ She’d wanted coffee and the chef’s signature scones, followed by a brief presentation of what she considered the inn’s finest points and some basic proposals for changes and upgrades. She’d spent hours getting the slideshow the way she wanted—flawless. And with an appropriate amount of distance between them.

“Is something wrong, Ms. Ross?”

She rubbed her lips together. “No, not at all.” Her voice came out thin and reedy and she cleared her throat, stretching her lips in a smile again. “Coffee in the Athabasca Room would be fine.” She’d simply have to remember what she’d put in her report and make her points as they went along. She could do this.

“I look forward to hearing your ideas. Perhaps you’d take me on a tour later?” He stepped aside, letting her exit first. His voice was smooth, his smile charming. Mari exhaled again, trying to keep her shoulders down. I can do hard things, she thought. She wasn’t used to thinking on her feet, but she could do it. She’d just ignore what she knew about his reputation. Or the fact that he fairly exuded charm without even trying.

The lounge was nearly empty at ten in the morning. Two other couples sat at tables, sipping from large mugs and chatting quietly. Mari led him past the main bar to a smaller corner one and perched on one of the backed stools, making sure there were several inches between them. Luca took the seat next to her and the scent of his expensive cologne reached her nose. There was no mistaking the confident ease with which he carried himself. This was a man completely out of her league. Not that she was looking. She wasn’t even close to looking, not when the very thought of any physical contact with a man sent chills down her spine.

“This might be my favorite view in the whole hotel,” she began, focusing on her job, determined he see the inn—The Cascade—at its best. The way she was turned, she could look out over the hotel front grounds and down over the valley, the turquoise blue of the Bow River a shining snake through the gold and green hues of autumn. “And our coffee is superior. We import it from—..”

“The scenery is spectacular.” He interrupted her and she realized that he wasn’t looking at the view at all, but at her. Nerves tumbled in her stomach and her voice trailed off, unsure of how to continue. He must think her provincial, not the standard of management Fiori employed. Certainly not up to bantering, like he seemed to expect.

Mari turned back to the bar and put her hand on the coffee pot that was set out. It didn’t matter. This was her job and she wanted to keep it. Wanted it more than anything else in the world.

“Coffee, Mr. Fiori?”

She loo

ked up when he remained silent and their eyes met.

Her hand shook on the handle of the pot. He was watching her steadily, so unwavering that tightness cinched her chest. She willed it away, telling herself it was his power as her boss that had her so unsettled. It wasn’t his fault that he was so handsome. Wasn’t his fault that his eyes were the color of melted molasses toffee, only a slightly deeper shade than his hair. He wasn’t responsible for the perfectly shaped lips either, or the way he spoke, with flawless inflection and just a hint of Italian accent. He was possibly more magnetic than he was in the pictures on the computer or in the industry magazines she kept filed on her bookshelf. She would imagine he got his way often simply from his looks and charm. But not here, not with her. There were important things at stake.

“Call me Luca, please,” he answered finally.