Kate hadn’t said anything. Poor George. Little did he know what he was in for. Alessandro had assured her that he was prepared to listen, but was he prepared to absolve from blame and forgive?
In the world of Alessandro Preda there was no room for excuses or apologies. If you crossed him in any way retribution would be swift and unforgiving. She could only try and be the restraining hand on his arm, so to speak. It was a minor miracle that he was prepared to listen at all.
‘I’m a believer in travelling light,’ he said, checking in her suitcase and then taking his time to examine the picture in her passport, while Kate patiently waited for him to return it to her, teeth gritted. ‘I take it you’re not...?’
‘I wasn’t sure what to bring with me.’
‘So you decided to bring it all? Including the kitchen sink?’
She reddened and mumbled something about it being so much easier for guys, who could fling two things in an overnight bag and disappear abroad for a month.
She might have added that she could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she had been abroad in her entire life. She wasn’t an expert when it came to working out what to pack. Aside from confronting George and ruining his holiday, they would be visiting a potential business opportunity on the outskirts of the city—killing two birds with one stone, so to speak, which was probably partly why Alessandro had chosen to make this trip in the first place.
So, yes, work clothes... But it wasn’t really feasible to wear suits in the evenings as well, was it?
Not that she planned on spending a single one of those evenings in his company. Not one. She intended to draw some very clear and definite lines. Between nine and five she would be his employee, and after five she would disappear and do her own thing.
So she had stuffed some casual wear in her case as well. Jeans and loose, baggy tops. The woman in the tiny shorts and cropped top with the ponytail was not going to make an appearance.
‘If I need more clothes,’ Alessandro was saying, leading her through customs, handling everything so efficiently that she barely noticed them heading towards the first-class lounge, ‘then I can always buy out there. I travel so much that I can be in and out of an airport a lot faster if I don’t have to check in any luggage.’
‘Hence the holdall?’
‘Hence the holdall. Usually I bring something a lot smaller when I’m going to Europe.’
‘I can’t imagine what could be smaller,’ Kate panted, walking fast to keep pace with him. ‘A wallet?’
Alessandro chuckled and shot her an appreciative look—which she missed because she was trying to remain composed whilst half running beside him, one hand holding her neat little bun in place, the other dragging a pull-along case which she had stuffed with all sorts of useful reading matter.
‘Occasionally,’ he drawled, slowing down and veering off to the left, ‘a wallet is all a man needs. It can hold a lot more than just banknotes and credit cards...’
‘Really? Like what?’ Kate retorted sarcastically, getting her breathing back and looking sideways at him. ‘A change of outfit? Spare jacket? Pair of shoes?’
He burst out laughing, stopping and looking down at her with an unreadable expression that left her feeling a little dizzy.
‘Where have you been hiding?’
‘Sorry?’ She stared back at him, confused.
‘This witty, funny woman with the sharp tongue... Where have you been stashing her away? If I’d known she existed I would have taken some time out to try and find her...under the desk, maybe...or behind the coatrack...or in the stationery cupboard...’
Kate couldn’t help herself. She blushed and smiled and looked away, and then caught his eyes again. And all the while she was doing that she could feel her heart pick up speed.
There was still laughter in his eyes as he continued to hold her gaze. ‘A wallet,’ he murmured, his dark eyes suddenly glinting with lazy devilry, ‘can hold something that’s even more vital than cash or credit cards...’
‘What?’
‘I’ll let you think about it...’ He grinned and began walking again, pushing open the glass doors that led to the first-class lounge.
Kate paused and took stock. This was amazing. Here, the hustle and bustle of the airport terminal gave way to...well, peace, quiet...glassy counters groaning under the weight of food...men and women on their computers, comfy chairs and sofas...
‘Wow.’
Accustomed to all of this, Alessandro took a few seconds to register her expression, and he felt a weirdly heady kick at having been the one to introduce her to the experience.
‘So this is how the other half live,’ she breathed, impressed to death. ‘Am I standing out like a sore thumb?’
She looked at him anxiously and he smiled.
‘I don’t think there’s a dress code in operation here,’ he told her gently, guiding her forward and flicking their first-class passes to the well-groomed woman behind the polished curved counter.
Actually, there was. The dress code was expensive. He felt a sudden surge of protectiveness, which he dismissed as the normal reaction of a boss looking out for his employee. Having her insulted, stared at or criticized in any way was something he would not tolerate.
He ushered her to a long, low sofa, settled her down. When he asked her what she would like to drink he was amused to see her spring to her feet, eyes bright.
‘I should do the honours,’ she told him seriously. ‘You are my boss, after all...’
‘Of course,’ Alessandro murmured. ‘What was I thinking?’
So she didn’t blend in? He was suddenly contemptuous of all those unspoken rules the seriously wealthy played by. A rich diet of supermodels had blinded him to the realities that everyone else lived with. And, of all people, shouldn’t he know that the wealthy had their failings? Didn’t always conform?
He frowned, distracted by the rare intrusion of introspection. He came from wealth—had known first-hand its ups and downs, had experienced the frailty of what could be so easily taken for granted. He was secure in his own personal fortune—had made sure of that—but it struck him that he no longer looked outside the box at lifestyles that weren’t rich and privileged.
He was accustomed to his rare stratosphere because it was the one everyone he knew inhabited—including the women he dated. Although it had to be said that their passports came via their incredible looks.
She returned five minutes later with two plates heaped with various titbits, from little dainty sandwiches to cream cakes and packets of biscuits.
‘I’ve gone a little mad,’ she confessed. ‘I know it’s not cool to take a bit of everything that’s there, but I couldn’t resist.’
‘You don’t have to justify yourself to me, Kate. Take whatever you want. That’s what it’s there for. I’d bet that half the people here would love to do the same, but some warped sense of wanting to blend in and look cool stops them.’
Kate breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I’m ravenous, anyway.’
‘We could have a full breakfast if you’d rather?’
‘You’re kidding?’
‘Perfectly serious. Airlines command fat fares for first-class travellers. Frankly, hot food in their lounges is the very least one can expect.’
‘I’m fine.’ She reminded herself that she wasn’t there to have fun. Work was what was on the agenda—and not of a very pleasant nature either. ‘But thank you for the offer.’
She tucked in as delicately as possible whilst noticing that he ate next to nothing.
‘You can work if you want to,’ she contributed awkwardly. ‘You don’t have to feel that I need entertaining.’
‘I don’t.’
She reluctantly looked at the little pile of uneaten sandwiches on her plate. ‘How do you intend to...to confront George? Have you given it much thought? I know you have all the evidence compiled, but are you just going to present him with it in front of his wife?’
‘Haven’t thought that far ahead.’
‘I’d hate him to think that I might have been the one to instigate this whole sorry business,’ she admitted. ‘Although if I show up at your side I guess that’s the first thing he’ll think.’
‘Why does it matter?’ Alessandro dismissed her concern with a careless shrug. ‘So he gets the boot and puts it down to you? What’s the big deal?’
‘The “big deal” is that some of us actually care what other people think of them.’
‘Why? Will you ever see him again? His family?’
‘That’s not the point.’ She looked at him curiously. ‘How can you be so...so cold and detached?’
And he was. Despite the fact that he socialized heavily, dated women by the bucketload if office gossip and the daily tabloids were anything to go by, there was something about Alessandro Preda that remained remote and untouchable.
She shivered. Was that all part and parcel of his incredible appeal?
In the City he was feared as a ruthless competitor. Men and women alike were awed by him. Even here, as she surreptitiously slid her eyes to the side, she could see the way people checked him out. He commanded attention and took it as his right. They all knew he was rich, or else he wouldn’t be in a first-class lounge. They only wondered if he was famous—and if so famous, for what?