The Italian's Wife

'Well, it's not mine.' Holly's temper fired. 'I got the interview on my

own merits and I'm proud of that and I intend to show up-'

156

His lean, dark, devastating face set hard. 'But I said no.' Holly

smoothed an unsteady hand down over her skirt but kept her chin high.

'Don't I have the right to disagree with you?'

'Not when I know better. You're not making the Lombardi name a laughing

stock by chasing after some menial job,' Rio decreed with cutting emphasis.

Holly paled. 'So let's get this straight...if I was a brain surgeon or

something snobby or important you would have a different attitude. But,

as I'm only capable of work that you consider menial, I have to stay

home to conserve your dignity.'

'As you're not a brain surgeon, I don't think we need discuss that

angle. Come on,' Rio urged ruefully. 'Go and change into something

livelier for the races.' 'No.'

'In a minute you're going to be chaining yourself to the railings

outside the house like a suffragette fighting for the vote,' Rio

countered very drily. 'Be sensible. I work very long hours. When I'm

around, I want you around too-'

'Did anyone ever tell you that you can be very domineering? And the sort

of bloke who has to control everything around him?' Holly paused and

then went on, 'If I want to work, I will work.' 'Is that your last

word?' Holly nodded without hesitation.

Rio surveyed her with a level of brooding dissatisfaction that would

once have filled her with instant wholehearted panic. Then, swinging on

his heel, he mounted the stairs and left her standing there.

An hour later, while Holly waited her turn with the other applicants

called for interview, she began to wonder exactly what she was doing

there. Was she happy to leave Timothy solely to Sarah's care for half of

every week? Hadn't she

neglected to take into account the other demands on her time? Was she

going to drop out of her Italian lessons? Shouldn't she be taking a more

hands-on interest in the running of her own home?

In addition, Rio led a busy social life. They had already dined out once

that week, with the directors of the Lombardi Foundation, an occasion

that had not been half so intimidating as she had feared. And that very

evening they had a big private party to attend. As Rio's wife she had to

look good at such events and that meant more than running a last-minute

brush through her hair and wearing the first thing that came out of her

wardrobe.

Suppressing a rueful sigh, Holly decided that there was no point

whatsoever in putting herself through an interview for a job she did not

even want. Only pride and the suggestion that she might be a gold-digger

had sent her off in search of a job in the first place. Indeed, she had

stood up to Rio purely on principle and she knew that her stubborn

refusal to give way had shocked him.

Evidently, the husband who had told her that she would have to lead her

own life hadn't really meant it. She started to smile then. Just as he

had once carelessly admitted, Rio was spoilt. Alice adored her only son.

Holly imagined others of her sex had added to that spoiling even by the

time Rio became a teenager. He was drop-dead gorgeous and rich and

absolutely charming...as long as he got what he wanted. Which, most of

the time, he did. And why not, when he made her so happy?

Arriving back home, she was disappointed to learn that Rio had returned

to his office at Lombardi Industries. Around three she went to get her

hair done. Sly, the owner of the salon, who had long since grasped the

fact that Holly was not Rio's imaginary cousin, Fiammetta, and had done

158

so with very good grace, always gave Holly her personal attention.

'I hear Christabel didn't get that big cosmetics contract she was up

for,' Sly remarked when she began trimming Holly's hair. 'But then,

let's face it, she's not getting any younger...'

After telling herself that she was about to do the decent thing and

change the subject, Holly heard herself saying instead, 'What age is she?'

'She's got to be over thirty...' Sly lowered her head to continue more

confidentially, 'She's supposed to be pretty difficult to work with. A

lot of people in the business don't like her. It makes you think that

some of the juiciest rumours about her have to be true.'

'Rumours?' Holly was ashamed of herself, deeply ashamed, but she was as

hooked as a fish on a line to the other woman's every word,

"The big cosmetics companies are very careful of their image and they

expect the model they select as a figurehead to have a clean

reputation.. .and Christabel, well, I've heard that she does;- Oh,

excuse me.'

As a stylist interrupted Sly with a query the brunette broke off what

she had been saying and left Holly seething with curiosity. But the

minute of reflection that followed sobered Holly and made her face burn.

It was truly awful of her to be listening to gossip about Christabel.

Rio would kill her. Rio would expect better of her. For goodness' sake,

didn't she expect better of herself?

'Can we change the subject?' Holly asked when Sly returned to her.

'But we were having so much fun doing down Christabel,' Sly pointed out

in amazement.

'I'm sorry...I know I encouraged you, but talking about her makes me

feel bad.'

'That's what I keep on telling people about you. Sweet sincerity shines

out of you. I bet Rio was blinded by the comparison between you and that

female we're not going to mention again. My final word on the subject?

Rio had an incredibly lucky escape.'

On the drive home Holly gathered her courage and stopped off at the same

designer outlet where Rio had once taken her shopping. She wanted to buy

an outfit that Rio hadn't seen before, something that he hadn't chosen

for her. And she found it: a strappy short dress that was wholly

feminine in design and made of glorious fabric that shone like pure,

opulent gold beneath the lights.

Clad in her new lingerie, a daring combination of gossamer-thin

lace-topped stockings, oyster silk panties and a matching strapless bra,

she was putting the finishing touches to her make-up, which she had

laboured long and hard over, when a knock sounded on the bathroom door.

She opened it, focused on a silk tie and automatically tipped back her

head to connect with the dark golden eyes she loved, saying, 'Be

honest...does this eyeshadow make me look like a panda with a hangover?'

'Santo cielo...' Rio murmured huskily. 'That bad?' Holly groaned in

frustration. 'I've wiped it all off once already and I'll die if I have

to do it again!'

'You look totally fantastic just as you are, bella mia,' Rio said very

slowly.

Comprehension sinking in, Holly watched her husband literally trail his

hotly appreciative gaze over her scantily clad body and she reddened and

threw the mascara wand in her hand at him. 'My eyes, Rio!'

He caught the wand in one lean brown hand and threw back his arrogant

dark head, raw amuse

ment dancing in his dark-lashed gaze, a slashing

smile of shameless acknowledgement

160

on his mouth. 'Gorgeous... all of you, absolutely gorgeous. How long do

we have before we have to leave?'

'Rio...' Her breath caught in her throat at the smouldering glitter in

his scrutiny. His effect on her was instantaneous. A slow simmer of heat

rose inside her, spread at wanton speed to sensitive places. Her nipples

tingled and tightened and pushed against the cups of her bra and a tiny

tightening sensation pulled deep in the pit of her stomach and made her

press her thighs together.

'We have more important things to think about,' Rio imparted rather

raggedly.

'Have we?'

'I was a real bastard earlier. How did the interview go?'

'The...interview?' Holly coloured, averted her gaze, not yet ready to