‘At least you get to go to work.’
‘It is what I do during the day.’
‘Well, lucky you.’Rachel handed him back the newspaper, then she curled on her side and tugged the duvet up to her ears. ‘I might as well stay right here then, since it’s the only place I am useful.’
He laughed. ‘Hold that delightful thought until I return.’
Then he was gone. The door closed. He strode down the hallway and out of the apartment, then into the lift. It took him down to the basement where Dino and his limo awaited him. The moment he settled in the rear seat and opened his laptop his business cellphone began ringing and real life settled in. As he concluded his fourth complicated call of the journey, Dino was pulling the car to a stop outside the Villani building. He climbed out and strode in through the doors into familiar surroundings where that other excitement which came a very close second to sex waited to take him over.
Then it came.
‘Congratulations, Villani!’
‘Congratulations, sir!’
Congratulations resounded from every corner. The curious smiles that accompanied them were due almost entirely to the photograph printed in this morning’s paper, he judged.
His smile was mocking but fixed. And even that was wearing thin by the time he hit the top floor of the building.
‘Congratulations, Raffaelle,’ his secretary greeted him and dumped a whole load of telephone message slips down on his desk.
‘What are those?’ he asked dubiously.
‘Congratulations and invitations, of course.’ She grinned. ‘I would hazard a guess that these are only the beginning. It looks as if you and Carmichael will be dining out every night for months!’
He gave her them back. ‘You deal with them.’
‘Me?’
‘Filter out the rubbish and sort the rest into some kind of order,’ he instructed. ‘Then I will look at them.’
‘But wouldn’t it be more appropriate if Carmichael did it?’
Recalling the woman he had just walked away from brought a gleam to his eyes. ‘No. She has better things to do,’ he murmured dryly.
Like playing his personal little sex nymph.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE SEX NYMPH WAS UP, showered and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt by the time Raffaelle entered his office building to a barrage of congratulations.
The sex nymph could not be more prim and polite when his housekeeper introduced herself as Rosa, the chauffeur’s wife; apparently both of them travelled everywhere that Raffaelle went.
And the sex nymph had no intention of being anywhere near the bedroom by the time he got back home again.
She had come up with a much more practical way to spend her time.
Over a light breakfast prepared by Rosa, Rachel planned her day with the concentration of a tourist determined to miss nothing out. Only her tour would not consist of historical sites in the city; she was going to trawl the restaurants and food wholesalers special
ising in organic produce.
Her nice new security guard arrived conveniently as she was about to leave. His name was Tony and he had the use of a car, which meant far less footwork.
Still, by the time she had been delivered safely back to the apartment long hours later, she was almost dead on her feet.
Raffaelle was crossing the hall towards his study from the living room as she stepped in through the door. Pinstriped jacket gone, shirt sleeves rolled up, tie knot hanging low at his throat and glass slotted between his fingers, he looked deliciously like the successful man just in from work and ready to wind down from his busy day.
Rachel paused, completely held by his sexual pull.