Italian Boss, Proud Miss Prim

He appeared to be battling with a decision, while her hands had balled into fists, Katie realised, slowly releasing them. Where had this crazy idea sprung from? She had never come across anyone like Rigo Ruggiero before, she reminded herself. He was still thinking. She had to interpret that as a maybe and, having taken the first step, found the second was much easier. Better to get things out in the open now. ‘I do have one condition.’

‘You’re making conditions?’

Rigo’s look pierced her confidence, but this was an all-important step in rebuilding her life. Yes, she was a small-town girl who was scarred comprehensively inside and out—and she should know her place—but retiring into the shadows would be a step back into the dark place she’d inhabited after the fire.

‘Go on,’ Rigo prompted impatiently.

‘If we stay over in Tuscany—’

‘I haven’t agreed to you coming with me yet.’

‘But you will,’ she said, crossing her fingers behind her back.

‘If we stay over?’ he prompted.

‘I’ll need a place to stay.’

‘Of course you will.’

‘A separate place to stay…’ Her face was growing hotter every second.

‘Separate from me, do you mean?’

She heard the faint derision in his voice. ‘That is correct,’ she said tightly, feeling like that certain someone had come back to stand on her throat.

Rigo barked a laugh. ‘Why?’ he demanded. ‘Don’t you trust yourself alone with me, Signorina Prim?’

He was a busy man. Why was he making this hard for her? He needed a PA. And as he stared into Katie’s pale, passionate face, he knew he wanted her to go with him. ‘Well? What are you waiting for?’ he snapped, frowning impatiently. ‘Grab your bag, and let’s go.’

Katie hadn’t realised Rigo’s idea of a trip to Tuscany would include a sleek white executive jet, which he piloted into Pisa Airport. Scurrying alongside him as he strolled through the terminal building without any of the usual formalities was another eye-opener. Next he introduced her to what seemed like an acre of cream calfskin in the back of a limousine. His chauffeur did the rest, driving them seamlessly through the exquisite Tuscan countryside, while she felt her thigh ping with the proximity of Rigo’s thigh and fretted about sleeping arrangements.

Was she mad suggesting this? Dull little Katie Bannister off on a jolly with her drop-dead-gorgeous boss? What surprised her even more was that Rigo had accepted her offer to work for him—temporarily, of course. And now he was sending her senses haywire. She risked a glance his way as the car swept round a bend.

‘Look, Katie…that palace on the hill is the Palazzo Farnese.’

Katie looked, but what she saw did not match Rigo’s tone of voice. One of the ice-cream-cone-shaped towers looked as if it had been attacked with a battering ram, and to her eyes Rigo’s inheritance looked more like a fat toad squatting on the top of the hill than a fairy-tale palazzo.

‘It’s a jewel, isn’t it?’ he breathed.

Katie hummed, trying not to sound too noncommittal. True, the hill the palazzo stood upon was lush and green, and had it been in good order the palazzo would indeed be set on the brow of that hill like a jewel. She set her imagination to work. It wasn’t so hard. In some places where the passage of time had been kind the ancient stone glowed a soft rose-pink in the late-afternoon sunlight, and there were tiny salt-white houses clustered around the crumbling walls. Yes, it could be called beautiful—if you squinted up your eyes and tried to picture how the palazzo might look after a world of renovation—but oh, my goodness, how would Rigo react when they finally arrived?

‘My family home…’ Rigo’s voice betrayed his excitement. ‘I haven’t been back for years…’

And years and years, Katie thought, trying not to imagine Rigo’s disappointment when he moved past this nostalgia for a childhood that had ended with Carlo’s arrival on the scene. Strangely, though she had no emotional involvement with the palazzo, it called to her too. She was bewitched and could already picture the rooms, which she imagined to have high vaulted ceilings, when they were loved and cared for. She knew instinctively the palazzo was worth saving. Monuments to another time were rare and precious and she could never dismiss one out of hand. How she would love to take a hand in restoring it…

And with her sensible head on she had an open ticket home if the job didn’t work out.

Having driven up to the grounds, they entered through some ornate gates. A little shabby perhaps but that only added to their charm. They would need checking, of course, to make sure they were safe. She made a note. A gracious drive lay ahead of them, lined with stately sentinels of blue-green cypress. Well, at least those wouldn’t need trimming, she thought, noting the overgrown flower beds and thinking of the work needed there. As the limousine swept on she could see it was all very grand—or had been at one time. Crenellated battlements scraped a cloudless cobalt sky and each conical tower, damaged or not, wore a coronet of cloud. ‘It’s magical,’ she murmured.

‘Let’s hope so.’

Rigo’s tone of voice suggested he had ditched the rose-coloured spectacles, and for that she was glad. And the setting was perfect. A limpid silver lake lay behind the palazzo, while the ghost of a formal garden could still be seen at the front amongst the weeds. To reach the main entrance they crossed a vast cobbled courtyard, which fortunately had survived intact, and as they passed beneath a stone arch she noticed a royal crest carved into the stone. Her heart juddered to see the same rampant lion engraved on Rigo’s father’s ring. That royal seal only put another wedge between them.

Rigo saw her interest and dismissed it. ‘Everyone’s son’s a prince in Italy,’ he said. ‘Look on it as a benefit,’ he added dryly. ‘You can have a whole royal apartment to yourself.’

She smiled thinly and gave a little laugh. That was what she’d wanted, wasn’t it?

CHAPTER TWELVE

ONCE upon a time she had believed in fairy tales, but that was before the fire. She knew Rigo only wanted her for her organised mind with the same certainty she knew this visit would be a disappointment for him. She was in serious danger of falling in love with him, Katie realised as the chauffeur slowed the car.

A group of uniformed staff was waiting for them at the top of the steps. They looked a little anxious, Katie thought, hoping Rigo would reassure them. Her heart was thundering as the limousine slowed to a halt. This was awful. She couldn’t bear to think of Rigo disappointed or the staff let down. From start to finish this whole business was proving more disturbing than she could possibly have dreamed.

But Rigo seemed to have come to terms with the damage to the palazzo and put his disappointment behind him. ‘I’m home,’ he said, seizing hold of her hands.

He quickly let them go.

She followed him out of the car, registering more alarm now she could see how many twinkling windows were broken. She was still calculating the damage when she heard Rigo groan. Following his gaze, she felt like groaning too. A crowd of squealing fashionistas had started pouring out of the doors, pushing the hapless staff aside as they fought to be the first to greet Carlo’s brother. These must be Carlo’s friends, Katie realised, only now they were anxious to transfer their affections to Rigo.

‘Hold this, will you?’

Thrusting a suitcase-sized handbag into Katie’s arms, one of the older, immaculately groomed women elbowed her way through the scrum to reach Rigo, who was handling everyone with charm and patience, but as the woman reached his side and launched herself at him he frowned and turned around to look for Katie.

‘You should have waited for me,’ he said, coming immediately to her side. ‘And whose is this?’ he demanded. Removing the handbag from Katie’s grasp, he dumped it on the ground. Putting his arm around Katie’s shoulders, he shepherded her up the steps.

It didn’t mean a thing, Katie told herself as her heart raced. Rigo was a very physical man for whom touching and embracing we

re second nature—a man who radiated command. Seeing her on the outside of the group had simply stirred his protective instincts.

She stood by his side at the top of the steps as he gave an ultimatum. His Press office would issue a further statement, he said, and in the meantime he was sure everyone would respect his grief and go home.

Smiles faded rapidly. People looked at each other. Then they looked at Katie and a buzz of comment swept through the group. Katie’s cheeks reddened as she imagined what everyone must be saying—it ran along the lines of, what was a man like Rigo Ruggiero doing with a woman like her? She didn’t have a clue either, if that helped them.

Rigo didn’t appear to care what anyone thought, and chose to neither explain nor to excuse her presence.

Everyone saw a different side of him, Katie realised, from the Press, who loved to photograph him, to the hangers-on, who hoped to gain something by being here. She had seen his fun side and wondered how many people had seen that. Right now he was all steel and unforgiving. And if she’d only stopped to think—if these people had only stopped to think—they would all have known that a playboy could never have built up the empire Rigo had. She was as guilty as they were of being distracted by his dazzling good looks and his charm, but she had learned that to underestimate him was a very dangerous pastime indeed.

He went straight from this announcement to introduce himself to the staff and to reassure them. He insisted Katie accompany him for this and he introduced her as his assistant. No one seemed to think this the slightest bit odd and she received some friendly smiles.

Rigo looked magnificent, Katie thought as he returned to the top of the steps to be sure his orders were being carried out to his satisfaction. A Roman general couldn’t have had better effect. Hope was already blossoming on the faces of his staff, and a very different look had come over the faces of Carlo’s friends.

‘We have to be a little patient,’ Rigo confided in her, leaning close. ‘Everyone has yet to learn that I am a very different man from my brother.’