Italian Escape with the CEO

In the interest of showing that she was back in control of her nerves she put on her best social expression. ‘So do you own a lot of planes?’

Liam shook his head. ‘Just this one. Sometimes I have clients who want to broker a deal and they figure high up in the air is the best place to do it. Sometimes I have to move a team of people fast and safely and discreetly. Or move cargo. I do try to combine assignments where I can to limit the ecological impact. I need this plane to run my business but I minimise airmiles. If I can transport by land or even sea I do. And the company does support a number of environmental charities.’

Surprise touched her. ‘I didn’t have you down as someone who would care about the environment.’

‘I think we all have to. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not giving up air travel, but I figure every little counts.’

‘I agree and I’d really like Dolci to do more. I’d like to use more local suppliers and really look at how much unnecessary plastic we use. Analyse how we can minimise impact to the environment.’

‘Then do it.’

He made it all sound so simple, as if she could wave a magic wand. ‘It’s not that easy.’

‘Why not?’

The slight quirk in his voice goaded her, as if she were all talk and no skirt. ‘For a start I am not in sole charge. My half-siblings have equal shares.’

‘According to press reports they aren’t exactly showing up to work—maybe they wouldn’t object? Have you asked them?’

Ava pressed her lips together—her ‘family’ problems weren’t to be shared. ‘No. They’d probably lawyer up.’ Or simply stonewall her. At the moment Luca Petrovelli would only communicate through lawyers and his standard response was that he couldn’t give an opinion until he came to an agreement with his sister. As for Jodi, she didn’t respond at all, after her initial reply that simply said to refer to her brother. Frustration gnawed Ava’s insides and tensed her muscles and she forced her body to relax. ‘But I did ask my father and he was less than keen. He wanted to do the minimum needed to “look good”, believed profit trumped ethics.’ Even an appeal to his conscience hadn’t worked. He’d listened to her ideas and then he’d vetoed them. Instead he ha

d donated privately to an environmental charity.

‘You don’t still have to do as your father wanted. This is something you clearly feel passionate about. So own it. Make Dolci a forerunner on the environment.’

‘It doesn’t feel right. Dolci was built on the foundations of my dad’s ethos, his drive, his ideas and beliefs. And they worked. I don’t want to go against his wishes and I’d probably be a fool to do so.’

‘But times change and people change. Your father had his vision, now it’s time for yours.’

‘Just like that?’ Her whole life had been spent being the perfect daughter, following her parent’s wishes, or at least ensuring they coincided with her own—she wasn’t sure she knew how to stop. ‘Dolci is his legacy. I can’t trample over that. My vision may send Dolci down the pan. Then that would be my responsibility. My fault.’ Because she wasn’t good enough, wasn’t perfect and would finally be exposed in all her lack of glory. The idea shivered panic-stricken fear through her and she clenched her nails into her palms. Sparked determination—Dolci would not go under, not on her watch. ‘And that isn’t going to happen.’ She shook her head. ‘Anyway, right now we need to be talking about our fake relationship and how to make it believable.’ In truth she had no idea how this conversation had gone so off-piste.

Liam waited a heartbeat and for a second she thought he’d demur, pursue the topic of Dolci. Then, ‘You’re right. Where should we start?’

‘It’s all about the detail. The only way to spin a fabrication is to make sure it stands up to scrutiny.’ A rule she’d learnt in the cradle or possibly even the womb. After all, Karen had spun the Casseveti story into a fairy tale and that had been no easy task. Somehow she’d managed to completely gloss over James leaving his first family and painted instead the magical romance of a lifetime between the Lady and the entrepreneur. Compared to that this should be a walk in the park. ‘Let’s start with our first meeting.’

‘Three months ago you consulted me on a security issue. Maybe you were worried about industrial sabotage. That makes sense. After your father’s death that would be a legitimate worry, a good time for someone to strike. Then let’s say a few weeks later, when you were no longer my client, I asked you out.’

‘I wouldn’t even have considered dating that close to his death. I was too caught up in grief.’ The soul-shaking realisation that her father was gone for ever combined with the ramifications of his will.

‘It doesn’t work like that. There is something about death that makes the living clutch at life, affirm it, want to live it.’ The depth of his voice told her that he spoke from experience and yet she shook her head in refutation.

‘I wouldn’t have, couldn’t have agreed to a date just a few months later.’

‘I met Jess when my dad was dying—we got married a few weeks after his funeral.’ Impossible to tell what emotions underpinned his factual tone, but his blue eyes shadowed and clouded, reminded her of how much he had lost.

‘I can’t imagine how difficult, how complicated that must have been for you both. But I am glad that you did have Jess, that you had support and love and comfort.’

‘Yes.’ The harshness of his voice shocked her and she saw the shadow cross his face and ravage it. ‘My point is that it is possible to start a relationship even when you are grieving.’

‘Accepted.’ She gestured with her hand, then did a quick calculation. ‘So our first date would have been about two months ago. Where did we go for dinner?’

‘Does it matter? Any random restaurant.’

His voice held impatience, perhaps a leftover from the emotions this conversation must have awoken, but she knew she couldn’t let that go. ‘It does matter and that really wouldn’t work. One of the stock questions we’ll be asked is where was our first date? We’ll look a bit idiotic if we say it was at a “random restaurant”.’

‘OK.’ But she could tell he still thought she was overreacting. ‘Where did we go?’

Ava looked at him between narrowed eyelids. ‘That’s up to you. Where would you have taken me on a first date? If this were real. Really real.’ In the silence that followed she sensed the atmosphere shift. Pictured the meeting in his office, the dawn of attraction, the moment he asked her. ‘Would you have called me? Emailed me? Where would you have taken me?’ This was becoming too real and she needed to move, to walk, to leave this illusion. ‘I’ll pop to the bathroom whilst you come up with an answer.’