Bought by Her Italian Boss

She had taken refuge in homework when Travis was around, only emerging to eat dinner where Henry had put her at ease and made her laugh.

“My mother genuinely loved his father,” she said, silently willing Vito to believe her. “She never would have brought me into any man’s home for any reason except to give me a father. I think of Henry that way.” She had to drop her gaze as she admitted, “But the day before their wedding, I overheard Travis warning Henry that we might be gold diggers. I thought his mind would change over time, as he saw that we were just trying to be a family, but a year into their marriage my mother was diagnosed with cancer. I was supposed to move out, go to college, but instead I stayed to help Henry nurse her. I took some online courses, but Mom felt like such a burden on us. Travis didn’t come around much. I know how it looked to him, like Henry was stuck with a pile of medical bills for someone he shouldn’t have to support.”

She stared into the harsh glare of sunlight on the water to sear back the tears gathering in her eyes.

“It was such a raw deal that she finally found a man who loved her, who wanted to take care of her, and she died before she could make a proper life with him. Make him happy.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Vito said, sounding sincere, covering her hand.

She removed her hand, forcing herself to shrug off the bleak sadness.

“I’m very conscious of the fact that Travis thinks I’m only maintaining a relationship with Henry because he has money and I don’t. I never take any when he offers, so letting you swan me in and out of Italian boutiques is not exactly the picture I want to paint so my stepbrother will let me continue visiting the only father I’ve ever had.”

She looked at him, blinking several times to bring her vision back from a wall of white to see his toughened yet brutally handsome expression.

“But I’m hardly in a position to demand the luxury of pride, am I?” she added caustically.

He was watching her with a gravity that made her feel naked all over again. “Would he really stop you from seeing him?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know,” she muttered. “He loves his father as much as I do and wants to protect him. He wasn’t trying to be cruel. I mean, you’d probably say the same thing to your own father in that situation, wouldn’t you?”

Vito’s stare was inscrutable. He held her gaze for a long time, like he had a million responses and was sifting for the best one. He settled on saying, “Eat,” and lowered his attention to his plate.

Well, that settled that, didn’t it, she thought facetiously, and forced herself to take a bite.

* * *

No matter how sincere Gwyn seemed, Vito couldn’t afford to let himself be swayed emotionally. While she finished getting ready, he reviewed her background more thoroughly.

She interrupted, emerging from the bathroom with a more natural look that was infinitely more beautiful than last night’s smoky eyes and sharp cheekbones and red, glossy lips painted by the stylist. Gwyn had frowned when he’d handed her the pots of color and paint, grumbling about not wanting to look like a ghost if she was going to be photographed. If not for that, she implied, she wouldn’t have accepted the makeup at all.

“What do we do with last night’s clothes?” She looked for them.

“I’ve made arrangements.”

She stared at him.

He lifted his brow in inquiry.

“I borrowed something. I want to be sure it’s returned in good condition,” she said.

“It will be.” He frowned, annoyed by what sounded like a lack of faith, but also seeing yet more evidence of the do-it-myself streak of independence she seemed to have. “I reviewed your file and some other details,” he told her as they left the room.

She looked over her shoulder at him, dismayed, but not fearful. “Like?”

Her financial situation. Her debt level was low, but she had a little, and hadn’t made any significant payments or purchases recently. There had been nothing to red flag her as possessing or spending a sum that might have been embezzled. Instead, he’d found more evidence that she was exactly as she portrayed herself.

“You’ve worked hard for the education and position you’ve attained,” he acknowledged once they were in the privacy of the elevator. “But Fabrizio signed off on your transfer despite there being two candidates with more experience. It supports what you said yesterday, that you might have been recruited because you were green and possibly more likely to let things slide out of ignorance.”

“So you’re willing to believe it based on your own assessment of hard evidence, but nothing I say has any bearing. My word means nothing to you. Isn’t that the story of every woman’s life.” She shrugged on the cloak of righteous anger she’d been wearing since he met her, but he could sense the hurt beneath.