Hired:The Italian's Bride
His eyes darkened and she knew she’d pushed the anger button. Crossed the insubordinate line. Dread curled in her stomach. How many times had she let this happen? How many times had she let her temper get the better of her and then have to pay the price for it? All the lessons she’d learned flew out of her head when he glared at her.
“In my office, if you please.” The words were gritted out.
“No.” She nearly choked on the word, and backed up a few steps. But the thought of following him into his office to be called to the carpet for her actions was more than she could bear. She would cry. She would beg, like she had so many times before. And then she’d hate him for it.
“Ms. Ross, unless you want this to happen in front of your staff, you’ll come with me now.” His voice was dangerously low and smooth. Sweat pooled at the base of her spine as she rose and brushed her hands down her trousers.
She could handle this. She could. Luca was not Robert. He couldn’t be Robert.
She followed him into his office and while he sat in one of the chairs, she stood by the door. A means of escape if she needed it. Logically she knew this was just an argument. It didn’t mean…but it didn’t stop the physical reaction. That fight-or-flight response. And she knew her choice was always flight.
“Mari, what is going on with you?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” She worked hard at not fidgeting with her hands.
“You’ve been out of sorts all week. Tense, irritated. Short with the staff. What happened today was an accident, and you blew it out of proportion. The same as you did when Christopher put the Maxwells in the wrong room. It was easily fixed.”
“What happened today was staff being careless. And I know I snapped at her, and I apologized.”
“And the Mari I met a week ago, the one so concerned for her people, wouldn’t have handled it by shouting at them.”
She looked away. He was right. She was so tired of him being right. But telling him the truth—that the man who had terrorized her was out on parole—that just wasn’t an option.
“We need to be able to work together, Mari. We need to be on the same page.”
She took a breath and exhaled, glad of the diversion from the real problem. “Maybe that’s it, Luca. I don’t feel that we’re working together. You’re giving orders and expecting them to be carried out. I haven’t had one single input into what’s happening here other than writing the memo to staff.”
“You’ve been at every meeting Dean and I have held.”
“Yes, but why bother? I never get to say anything or weigh in on discussions. The two of you go on your merry way and leave me out of it. All you do is issue orders about what you want done and when. Never mind increased workload or trying to make adjustments. What’s it like, Luca, being at the top? You don’t have to try to finesse the little changes to keep things running as smoothly as possible.”
“I beg your pardon.” His voice was stiff and formal. “I believe you said that was your job.”
Oh, the man made her blood boil. Using that against her. “It is. But I’m still only one person and the volume of work has increased significantly. And you also said you wanted my input.”
“Is there anything we’ve done you don’t agree with?”
She paused. The truth was she did like all the ideas and changes so far.
“That’s hardly the point. You’ve set me up as your traffic cop, directing people here and there. Seven impossible things to be done before breakfast is even served.”
“If you can’t handle the job…”
Panic threaded through her. This was what she hadn’t wanted to happen and she’d been working day and night so it wouldn’t. She needed this job. She wanted this job and the life she’d built back. She’d thought that she would simply have to work extra hard for this short period of time and all would be well. And it had only been a week and they were at each other’s throats.
“I can handle the job. My job. But I’m only one person, Luca.”
“So you’re angry at me, and not with Lisa. You’re not the only one putting in long hours, Mari. I don’t ask anything of my staff that I don’t ask of myself.”
“Then perhaps you expect too much.”
“Yet here we are. And I’m not the one throwing a tantrum.”
She let out a sound of frustration. “You are infuriating!”
A slow smile curled up his cheek. “So I’ve been told.”
The cajoling did nothing to lighten her mood, only darkened it. Her tone was biting. “Probably by your legions of swooning women.”