Italian Boss, Proud Miss Prim

She wouldn’t let it.

Twenty minutes after leaving Katie at the pool, he was tapping a pen on the table, wondering if she was going to turn up—and if she did, was he about to make the biggest mistake of his life? He hadn’t imagined taking Katie out of her comfort zone would throw her so badly. Forget the sex—that was never going to happen. But where the job was concerned he had to know if she was up to working alongside him in Italy.

The door opened and he put down his pen as she walked in.

‘I know this is a business meeting,’ she said when his face registered surprise, ‘but I thought—if we needed to scramble round the building…’

His surprise that she had come at all was instantly replaced by relief and admiration. It took some guts to climb back to a position of composure and responsibility when you had lowered your guard to the point where you appeared a gibbering wreck. ‘Sensible outfit,’ he agreed, wishing she wouldn’t always wear everything so big.

Camouflage, he realised, remembering the voluptuous figure she’d revealed at the pool. But why did Katie always feel this overwhelming need to cover up? The plain tailored trousers and simple jumper were a great improvement on the boxy suit, but they were hardly flattering. Thinking of the PAs he’d hired in the past made him want to shake his head in bemusement—when he would have preferred them to keep their clothes on they couldn’t wait to whip them off. ‘Don’t you have any other clothes with you? Jeans?’ he suggested.

‘Just one pair I bought when I went shopping with Antonia. I didn’t want to spoil them.’

He curbed a smile. That simple comment touched him somewhere deep. He’d become a stranger to having one of anything years ago. He turned determinedly back to business. He was already dressed in off-duty jeans and a casual top and was ready for the dirty work ahead of them. ‘So you’re ready to start work?’

‘Yes, I am,’ she said, staring straight into his eyes.

He came around the desk to shake her hand. ‘Welcome to the team.’

She liked the way Rigo could be strong and unemotional. She also didn’t like it—and for his sake more than anything else. A man so easily divorced from emotion could end up lonely. But she wanted this job and Rigo’s grip was firm and compelling. She wished with all her heart things could have been different between them, but they weren’t different. She had to hold her nerve now so he would understand she had drawn a line under everything that had happened between them. ‘I hope I don’t disappoint you,’ she said, noting that Rigo held her hand for precisely the right length of time an employer should hold the hand of an employee.

He smiled slightly. ‘I don’t think there’s the slightest danger of that.’

When roused, don’t stand in his way. Rigo waited for no one, Katie concluded as he strode off. Even her embarrassment had been refused time to ferment. He was out of the library and across the hall before she had pulled a pen out of her bag, and now her heels were rattling across the floor in hot pursuit. They were surrounded by priceless antiques and frescoes that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Sistine Chapel, and the scent of history competed with the strong smell of disinfectant from the recently cleaned floor and was a dizzying combination. Or was that the Rigo effect? She was going to work for him. She did work for him. She ran faster and almost collided with him at the foot of the stairs. He gave her no time to recover. Seizing her shoulders, he swung her around. ‘Tell me what you make of this.’

Breath shot out of her lungs in a gasp as she followed his gaze up the stairs to take in the garish stair carpet. Truth? Or diplomatic lie?

‘Come on, come on,’ he pressed. ‘I want a reaction—’

‘It stinks.’

‘That’s what I think. What should we put in its place?’

A runner at most. Or, depending on what they found underneath, the naked steps. She told him. He agreed.

‘Make a note.’

She did so.

Oh, this job was fun. She raced after him. Who else had a boss so big and hard and sexy, a boss who only had to look at her to fill her body with the zest for life—along with other things? She didn’t mind running to keep up with Rigo’s easy, loping stride, because if he stopped suddenly she had discovered that crashing into him was like crashing into a padded wall—and who wouldn’t want to rest against that, and even writhe a little, given half a chance?

‘Well?’ he demanded, thumping the wall with his meaty fist. ‘What do you think of this?’

‘They’ve plastered over stone that might have been better left exposed.’ She pressed her lips together as their eyes met briefly. Images of other things—more interesting, but just as hard as stone—made her cheeks blaze.

‘Exactly,’ he rapped, striding off again.

She sucked in a breath and refocused determinedly before hurrying after him.

‘This is a recent addition too.’ He disdainfully flicked a hand at some dismal curtains and strode on again.

She made a note to replace the hangings.

‘This is a disgrace,’ he snapped, moving her aside to examine a sleazy mural more closely.

‘Sandblast it?’

He almost smiled.

‘We’ll need a historical architect to advise us on renovations,’ he said, walking on. ‘Take a note.’

Something in the tone of that voice doused her enthusiasm. He was beginning to take her for granted. ‘You’ll need one,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how long I’m going to be here—trial period,’ she reminded him, chasing after him down some stairs. This wasn’t turning out as she had expected. She wanted more out of life than taking notes. She wanted to be listened to, at the very least, even if her thoughts were later discarded. But had Rigo even heard her?

She was ready to renege on their deal, Katie realised. She had been invited to become part of a team, not a dictatorship. She would stay until Rigo found a replacement for her, but then she would go home and find some other, safer way to spread her wings.

‘This is more like a casino than a valuable historical site,’ he remarked, opening one door and slamming it shut with a bang. ‘Make a note—’

‘You make a note.’ She shoved her notebook in his hand. ‘You know what y

ou want. Presumably you can write it down.’

She’d never thrown a temper tantrum in her life. Rigo paused to look at her. He let one beat pass, and then another. He made no attempt to take the pen and paper she was offering him. ‘What do you think of the room?’ he said mildly then.

She gritted her teeth. ‘I think it looks more like a casino than a site of historical importance,’ she ground out.

His lips tugged. Her body yearned. They walked on.

‘This used to be a slate floor,’ he observed, sounding more relaxed.

The mood was catching and, in spite of her reservations, she relaxed too; enough to carry out her own investigations. They had entered a second, dimly lit corridor leading off from the first and once again it was lavishly carpeted in hotel style. ‘I think we’d better add a stone-floor specialist to the list.’

‘I agree,’ he murmured in her ear. There was humour in his gaze that did considerable damage to her composure. He walked on. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me to find a nightclub and a spa down here.’

‘Could this be it?’ Katie wondered, peering into a stale-smelling cavern. Judging by the heaped ashtrays and the litter of drinks, this was the room in which Carlo’s friends had chosen to wait for them. ‘I’ll get round to clearing it up as soon as I can—’

‘You’ll get round to it?’ He swung towards her. ‘That’s not your problem. Katie.’

Signorina Prim, Signorina Dull, had had enough. The demon temper had been roused and was still very close to the surface. She only had to remember working alongside Rigo’s staff the previous evening for that temper to erupt into words. ‘I might not be stylish and rich like you, but if there’s one thing I do know about, it’s cleanliness and order. ‘Who do you think cleaned the hall? You have a wonderful staff if you chose to notice them.’