Italian Boss, Proud Miss Prim

‘You’re always sorry—maybe once too often.’

‘I understand why you’re angry with me—’

As she said this he made a sharp sound of disbelief. ‘You understand nothing,’ Rigo assured her. ‘You’re a child.’

And he, with all his Roman passion in full flood, was a formidable sight. She had never wanted him more or felt so distanced from him. Feet braced against the floor, fists planted on his tightly muscled hips, Rigo Ruggiero was a force she should run from as fast as she could before her heart was lost for good. ‘If you won’t accept my resignation—’

‘Which I won’t. We have an agreement,’ he reminded her.

‘Then will you tell me what you plan for the palazzo?’

‘Do you really think I should trust you after what happened between us—not once, but twice?’

If they couldn’t move past the sex there was no hope of a working relationship and if she was going to stay she had to do so with her head held high. The only way to do this was not to blush and shrink, but to challenge Rigo as he had challenged her. ‘You threw down the gauntlet when you dared me to take a risk. I’m throwing that same gauntlet at your feet. Take a chance on me.’

Where had she come from, this female virago? Had he created her or were they equally guilty? Did they rouse such powerful feelings in each other that neither of them were capable of behaving as they should? He pointed to a chair. She sat while he paced. He was weighing up the potential of the palazzo for the scheme he had in mind—a scheme that would benefit his foundation—against his obligation to secrecy. Should he trust this woman? Could he trust her? What did his instinct tell him? ‘I’m going to outline your contract,’ he said, ‘so if you would like to take a note…’

She hid a smile. He let it go. He dictated a letter to his legal team asking them to draw up a contract for Katie Bannister that gave her cast-iron guarantees.

She turned to look at him halfway through. ‘I can’t sign anything until I—’

He swore viciously in Italian. ‘Must you argue every point? I want you to send the letter exactly as I have dictated it—’

‘Don’t I have any say in my own contract of employment?’

‘Yes.’ He was tired of playing softball. ‘You can sign it or not. You can go back to Yorkshire and look for another job, if that’s what you want, but I don’t think it is. Am I right?’

She ground her jaw and came right back at him. ‘I want a clause that allows for a time limit and fair notice to be given on either side—’

‘A quick fix?’ he suggested coldly. ‘Is that the type of thing you deal in, Signorina Bannister?’

‘Please don’t turn me down out of hand. Try to see this from my point of view—’

His hackles stood on end. ‘From your point of view? Isn’t all this from your point of view? And what do you mean, don’t turn you down out of hand? Caro Dio, what is this? I’m the one making the offer—’

‘And making no allowance for my feelings—’

‘You have too many feelings,’ he roared, only to realise she was in tears. ‘Don’t play that card with me,’ he warned, shaken to his core. ‘I know your type—’

‘My type?’ she exploded, rallying faster than he could ever have expected. ‘And what type would that be, Rigo?’

They were facing each other like combatants in a ring, but indignation gave way to amusement when it occurred to him that to any outsider Katie would appear by far the more dangerous of the two. With her hands balled into fists, her jaw jutting and mouth firm, her eyes blazing with the light of battle she was a magnificent sight, this woman of his—

His woman?

His woman.

The only woman he could ever want.

But his woman hadn’t finished with him yet. Not by a long way.

‘So I’m the type who can see you naked in a pool and make the mistake of thinking we could share something special—’ She broke off. ‘Oh, no, I forgot.’ She held up her hand as if to silence him, though he had no intention of saying a word. He was content to let her continue this one-way argument with herself and by herself.

‘I’m the woman who had sex up against a wall, and felt nothing, presumably? I’m a robot—an automaton.’ Her voice was rising. ‘I’m a frigid, sexless, boring spinster—’

‘Hardly frigid,’ he cut in mildly.

She made a sound like an angry bear, which made it all the harder for him to hide his smile.

Forget all things sexual? That had been her plan. She should have known Rigo would make this hard for her. His confidence was obvious in the way his lips tugged in anticipation of victory, as if nothing she could say would have the slightest effect on his arrogant assumption that she would sign his wretched contract without alteration or complaint. How dared he look at her and smile? How dared he use that look to stir erotic thoughts?

But—and it was a big but—he was offering her the chance to do something exciting and different. Living in Italy was that, even if she didn’t know the precise detail yet. Had she come all this way in attitude and distance only to wimp out now? She’d pin him down and then she’d decide. Drawing herself up, which brought her—well, almost to his shoulder, she suggested, ‘Can we sit down and talk?’

Could they? He kept his expression carefully neutral.

A negotiation beckoned. Now that he’d woken the tiger inside Katie Bannister, there was no way he wanted to see her vulnerable again. This was his type of woman. The type of woman he would like working alongside him, he amended. Katie Bannister had passed the interview process with flying colours and was definitely the type of feisty, focused individual his foundation needed on the board.

She was sitting at the desk, waiting for him. He leaned his hip against it and looked down. She looked too, but not into his eyes. Not that he was any measure of propriety and chaste thought. ‘I’m going to tell you everything,’ he said, reclaiming her attention. ‘The club I run—’

‘The club?’ she interrupted, snapping into attack mode. ‘I would never leave England for Italy to work in a club, Rigo. I’m sorry,’ she said, standing up, ‘but I really don’t think there’s any point in continuing this conversation—’

He cut her off at the door, one fist pressed against it. ‘Now you listen to me.’ His gaze dropped to her lips.

‘And if I won’t?’

He might kiss her?

Mild eyes flashed fire. ‘Let me go, Rigo…’ She rattled the door handle.

‘Not until you tell me what you’re hiding.’

‘What I’m hiding?’

But her eyes told him clearly that she was. ‘I know you’re hiding something; you’re not leaving here until I know what it is.’

‘I’m your prisoner?’

He allowed himself a smile. ‘If you like.’

Her jaw worked and then she said, ‘All right—but not here, not now. Please, Rigo, let’s sort out one thing at a time.’

He ground his jaw as she stared unflinchingly into his eyes. Questions competed in his mind. Why the pretence? Why had she pulled back, not once, but twice when they were so heavily into pleasure? Katie had no difficulty enjoying sex. It was anything deeper she shied away from. So what

was Katie Bannister hiding from? Him? Men in general? Everyone? He had to remind himself how much she would benefit his foundation if he kept this rigidly confined to business. ‘Please sit down again,’ he said.

She still looked unsure. He could hear her thinking, work in a club? ‘Before you jump ship you should make sure you’re not jumping to conclusions. I’m going to tell you about my club and I’m asking you to hear me out. I think you’ll be glad if you do—’

‘So you trust me now?’

‘As much as you trust me. Shall we?’ He angled his chin towards the chair at the opposite side of the desk. He didn’t turn to see if she was following; something told him she would be. Katie couldn’t resist a challenge any more than he could and her curiosity was fully roused.

She walked towards him with her head held high until there was just the desk between them. Resting her fingertips on the edge, she remained standing. Leaning forward to make her point, she said, ‘When I was a girl saving up to go to music college I checked coats and served drinks and I considered myself lucky to have a job in a club, but that was then and, at the risk of sounding ungrateful, I don’t want to—’

‘Pole dance?’ he suggested dryly. ‘Why don’t you sit down, listen to what I have to say first and then give me the lecture?’

‘On one condition—’

‘Name it.’

‘You take me seriously?’

‘Believe me, I do take you seriously.’ He would like to take her very seriously indeed and the only reason he hadn’t taken the relationship to the next level was that Katie was holding him off.

Pulling out the chair, she sat down. ‘I promise to hear you out.’

He ignored the rush of interest in his groin and concentrated on the scrapbook in front of him. He spun it round so it was facing her. ‘This is my club…’

She went very still as she turned the pages and then she looked at him.

He shrugged. What could he say? This was his life’s work, and had been the only thing he cared about and worked for…up to now. The fact that he had never forgotten his roots, or that by assisting these children he was not only helping them but also somehow healing the child he had once been, was his concern, and his alone. The fact that he was sharing this with Katie was a measure of his respect for her. She must stay, and not because revealing this had bared his soul. He knew his secret would be safe with her, but he wanted her to stay because he couldn’t imagine life without her. She was a remarkable woman, this self-effacing, quiet, kind girl, and he knew he would never meet anyone like her again.