Her Italian Boss’s Agenda Read online

  ‘I’ll do that first. Then I’ll tell him what I think of him, coming here, disrupting my life, taking my promotion just when it’s in my grasp, thinking his money can buy anything.’

  ‘Money has a way of doing that,’ he observed mildly. ‘It’s one of its virtues.’

  ‘To hell with virtue, to hell with money and to hell with Primo Rinucci.’

  The sight of her eyes, blazing with indignation, held him entranced. Men had lost their heads for eyes like that, he thought. As he was in danger of doing.

  ‘I can see that this is going to be a meeting of Titans,’ he murmured.

  She returned to sanity, and sighed.

  ‘Well, keep what you’ve just heard to yourself. I suppose I shouldn’t have spoken so freely in front of you-’

  ‘My lips are sealed,’ he promised. ‘I swear never to tell Primo Rinucci what you really think of him.’

  ‘Thank you, but be careful. Since we don’t know what he looks like, you might find yourself talking to him without knowing it’s him. He’s probably the sort of low life who’d keep his identity secret just to be mean.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, with a touch of guilt. ‘I suppose that’s possible.’

  ‘But then, his being Italian would be a giveaway.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ he couldn’t resist saying. ‘Not all Italians say Mamma mia! and wave their hands. In fact, I believe some of them are indistinguishable from normal human beings.’

  Try as he might, he couldn’t keep a note of irony out of his voice. Luckily she was too preoccupied to notice.

  ‘But he’d have an accent,’ she persisted. ‘He wouldn’t sound English like you and me.’

  He cleared his throat, then seemed to go into a kind of trance. In truth he was struggling with a temptation more overwhelming than any he’d known in his life. A wise man would tell her the truth before it was too late.

  But it was already too late, and never had he felt so reluctant to be wise.

  ‘By the way, I should have asked your name,’ Olympia said.

  He played for time.

  ‘What?’ he asked vaguely.

  ‘Your name.’

  ‘My name.’

  ‘That’s right. What is it-your name?’

  She spoke patiently, and her eyes showed that she thought she was dealing with a halfwit. Was that better than telling her that he was Primo Rinucci?

  For one wild moment he teetered on the brink of the truth.

  Tell her who you really are. Be honest. Play safe.

  He took a deep breath. To blazes with honesty! As for safety-nuts to it!

  ‘Jack Cayman,’ he said.

  It had been the name of his English father. It was many years now that he’d lived in Italy as a Rinucci. But his early years had left their mark, and he could still speak English without a trace of Italian accent. So it was easy for him, now, to look Olympia in the eye and claim to be Jack Cayman.

  She extended her hand. ‘Well, Mr Cayman-’

  ‘You can call me Jack.’

  ‘You can call me Miss Lincoln,’ she said firmly, feeling that it was time she reclaimed the ground she’d lost in that burst of frankness.

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said meekly.

  ‘Now, the sooner we get down to work the better.’

  ‘Would you just give me a few minutes first?’ he asked hurriedly. ‘I’ll be straight back.’

  ‘Of course. It’s just down the corridor on the right.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, hurrying out of the door.

  It was several moments before it dawned on him that she’d directed him to the gentlemen’s convenience.

  For the past week Cedric Tandy had been in his office half an hour early, so it was plain misfortune that when the crucial day came he was half an hour late.

  ‘Oh no,’ he moaned at the sight of the man waiting for him. ‘Signor Rinucci-I assure you-’

  ‘It’s all right, Cedric,’ Primo said pleasantly. ‘I just thought I’d drop in for a chat.’

  ‘Perhaps I can show you around and introduce you-’

  ‘That can come later. I’ve been looking over the financial arrangements Enrico and I made for you, and it struck me that they were rather on the mean side. I’m sure you deserve something more generous.’

  ‘Well-that’s very good to hear but-Signor Leonate said that your firm couldn’t pay any more-’

  ‘You leave him to me. If he won’t fund an increase I’ll do it myself.’

  Cedric gaped as Primo walked to the door and looked back.

  ‘By the way,’ he said, as if something had only just occurred to him, ‘I’d rather nobody knew who I was, just at first. They think I’m Jack Cayman. It’ll give me a chance to meet people in a more spontaneous manner. I know you’ll back me up.’

  Cedric might not be a genius at running a company but he’d learned shrewdness. He understood bribery. But he also understood about gift horses.

  ‘Count on me,’ he said.

  Olympia looked up from the computer as he entered her office.

  ‘You’d better come and study these files,’ she said. ‘They’ll tell you a lot about how Curtis and Leonate have interacted since they started doing business a year ago.’

  ‘I think it was actually more like fifteen months,’ he said. ‘It began when Curtis tendered to manufacture a new kind of computer plug.’

  ‘Excellent,’ she said. ‘You’ve been doing your homework.’ She rose and indicated for him to sit at the computer. ‘Are you familiar with this system?’

  ‘I think so,’ he said, choosing his words with care. It was the same as the system in use at Leonate’s head office in Naples and in all their other firms, and Curtis had adopted it recently at his own ‘urgent recommendation.’

  ‘I think it’s a pain in the neck,’ she said with a touch of annoyance. ‘Our old system was much better, but Leonate insisted on this one so that we can network with their other companies.’

  ‘Is it really a pain in the neck, or do you just hate your new bosses?’ he asked with a faint grin.

  ‘I can’t afford to hate them.’

  ‘But if you could, you would, huh?’

  ‘I think I’d better not answer that. Let me explain how this all fits together.’

  She proceeded to give him a run-down of the firm and its relations with Leonate. Her mind was clear and well-informed, and she had details at her fingertips. When his umpteenth attempt to trip her up failed he admitted to himself that he was impressed.

  He had also to admit that he was finding it hard to concentrate through the distraction of her perfume. At first he hadn’t been sure she was wearing any, so subtle and mysterious was it. But at close range the muted aroma just reached him, then faded, returned, faded again, teasing him with uncertainty.

  The aroma, if there was one, was unlike anything he’d known before. He was used to women who dabbed on hot musk to entice him, but this had a cool, restrained quality that was almost like winter. Winter about to become spring, he thought: sweet-smelling fires in the snow, the smoke blown hither and thither, always on the verge of vanishing, always lingering.

  The phone rang and she answered quickly.

  ‘Sara? What’s the news?’

  ‘I’m in hospital,’ came Sara’s voice. ‘It’ll be months before I can work. I’m sorry, Olympia.’

  ‘Don’t worry about anything. If the baby’s all right, that’s what counts.’

  ‘Bless you.’

  Olympia replaced the receiver thoughtfully. Primo was watching her face.

  ‘Your secretary’s not coming back?’ he asked.

  ‘It seems not. In which case-’

  She looked up as a shadow appeared in the doorway and a neat young woman hurried in.

  ‘Miss Lincoln? I’m so sorry not to have got here earlier-’

  ‘Was I expecting you?’

  ‘Central Staff sent me. They said you needed a secretary.’

  ‘But-’ She gave a quick look at Primo, w
ho let out his breath uneasily. ‘But you-’

  ‘It’s a bit complicated,’ he hedged.

  ‘Will you wait outside, please?’ she asked the newcomer pleasantly.

  When the young woman had gone she faced him.

  ‘I think you have some explaining to do. Just who are you?’

  ‘I told you, my name is Jack Cayman.’

  ‘But who is Jack Cayman? And why did he claim to be my secretary when he wasn’t?’

  ‘Ah, be fair. I never actually said that’s who I was. You jumped to a conclusion.’

  ‘Which you did nothing to correct.’

  ‘You didn’t give me a chance. You informed me why I was there, snapped your fingers, and I said, “Yes, ma’am, anything you say, ma’am.” And let’s face it, that’s the kind of answer you prefer.’

  He knew this was an exaggeration, but he was fighting with his back to the wall. Anything was better than the truth.

  Or was it? This could be his last chance to make a fresh start. He took a deep breath, but before he could speak a voice from the doorway sealed his fate.

  ‘Jack, my dear fellow, how good to see you!’

  It was Cedric Tandy, advancing on him, smiling, playing his allotted part.

  He made some reply. He had no idea what it was. Inwardly he was cursing.

  ‘I see you’ve met Olympia,’ Cedric burbled on, oblivious to the wreckage he was causing. ‘That’s good-excellent.’

  ‘Oh, yes, we’ve met,’ Olympia said with glassy-eyed courtesy. ‘But we were still sorting out who’s who.’

  ‘I hadn’t explained who I am and where I come from,’ Primo said, giving Cedric a glance fierce enough to silence him. ‘It’s a bit difficult to-you might call me a sort of ambassador, an outrider, sent to prepare the land before the big guns arrive.’

  ‘And was coming to my office a part of preparing the land?’ Olympia asked with deadly brightness.

  ‘Your name has been mentioned as one of the assets of the firm,’ he said. ‘Now we’ve talked I can see I’m going to rely on you for a lot of information. Perhaps the three of us can have lunch together, and exchange views.’

  ‘Wonderful idea!’ Cedric exclaimed.

  ‘You’re very kind,’ Olympia said coolly, ‘but I’m afraid my lunch will be an apple at my desk. I’ve got a new secretary starting today, and I have to work with her.’

  Cedric, aghast at this cavalier treatment of a man who came from the seat of power, began to mutter urgently, ‘Olympia, I really think-’

  ‘Naturally I respect your decision,’ Primo interposed smoothly. ‘Some other time. Cedric, why don’t we go somewhere and talk?’

  The two of them departed, leaving Olympia to reflect that she’d made a mess of everything, and it was all his fault.

  She wanted to bang her head against the wall.

  Or his.

  Before leaving, Olympia looked in on Cedric, who informed her cheerfully that the newcomer had left an hour ago.

  And he hadn’t tried to talk to her again. Which meant that it wasn’t just a mess. It was a complete and total mess. She ground her teeth.

  In the firm’s car park she headed for her new car, a prized possession whose gleaming lines usually brought her comfort. She surveyed them for a moment, trying to take the usual pleasure in this sign of success, but tonight something was out of kilter, as if a genie had threatened to rub a lamp the wrong way and snatch it all back.

  Beneath her calm she was furious, more with herself than anyone else. Her plans had been laid so carefully. Primo Rinucci would arrive to find her one step ahead of him, which, of course, he would never suspect. She would play him like a fish on a line, as she had done before, although never when there was so much to win and lose.

  And she’d blown it. Caught off-guard, she’d revealed her true feelings, something you just didn’t do! Not if you wanted to reach the top as badly as she did.

  Now he knew, and he would report back that she was not only stupid enough to mistake his identity, but hostile to her new employers. Great!

  As she pulled out of the line and headed for the exit she became aware that another car had slipped in behind her. It followed her out on to the road and remained on her tail, keeping a safe distance, but definitely following. Glancing into her mirror she caught a glimpse of the driver and drew in a sharp breath. Him again!

  Two impulses warred within her. One said this man came from the Leonate Head Office and she should be charming and recover lost ground.

  The other said punch his lights out.

  She compromised.

  Half a mile later the road broadened out and she took the chance to draw into the kerb, get out and face him.

  ‘Are you following me?’ she demanded.

  ‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘I meant to catch up with you in the car park, but I just missed you. I thought we could talk.’

  ‘You couldn’t simply have suggested a meeting?’

  ‘And get comprehensively snubbed? I don’t think my fragile ego could stand it a second time in one day.’

  ‘Fragile my foot!’ she fumed. ‘We “talked” this morning, and I’m still regretting it. You practised a wicked deception on me-’

  ‘Not wicked,’ he pleaded. ‘Foolish, I grant you. I was stupid, it was a joke that went wrong, but when you just assumed that I was your secretary-well, can you blame me for playing along?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said firmly. ‘It was unprofessional.’

  ‘And not checking the facts was the height of professionalism, I suppose?’ he said, stung. ‘No, look, I’m sorry I said that. I don’t want to turn this into a fight.’

  ‘Then you’re several hours too late. It became a fight the moment you thought I was there for your entertainment and tricked me into saying things that-’ She shuddered as she recalled her incautious words.

  ‘I didn’t force you to say that stuff about “His Majesty” like “To hell with Primo Rinucci!” You were bursting to say it to someone.’

  The stark truth of this didn’t improve her temper.

  ‘And I said it to you, thus finishing my prospects with my new employers.’

  ‘I never said-’

  ‘You didn’t have to. If you don’t tell them now you’ll have to warn them later, otherwise they’ll find out what you knew and your own prospects will be in danger.’

  ‘Don’t worry about my prospects,’ he said coolly. ‘I have the virtue of thinking before I speak. It’s a great help. For an ambitious woman you have a remarkably careless tongue.’

  ‘How was I to know that you-?’ She bit back the last words.

  ‘Wasn’t an underling?’ he finished. ‘If I had been the worm beneath your feet that you clearly thought, it wouldn’t have mattered, would it?’

  ‘I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,’ she seethed.

  ‘Which is probably wise! No, look-forget I said that. I’m tired, jet lagged-’

  ‘How can you be jet lagged from Naples?’ she scoffed.

  ‘The damned plane was delayed,’ he yelled. ‘It didn’t get in until past midnight, and I got no sleep last night. I’m not at my best, and I’m saying things I shouldn’t. You’re not the only one who can do that.

  ‘So let’s put an end to this now. I apologise-for everything. And I’d like to apologise properly over dinner.’

  ‘No, thank you,’ she said crisply. ‘I have plans for this evening. I intend to spend it reading a book called How To Spot A Phoney At Fifty Paces. I thought I was good at that, but evidently I have much to learn.’

  ‘I could give you some pointers.’

  ‘No, you come under the heading of practical experience. After you I need further instruction. I’ll probably take a crash course, with a diploma at the end of it.’

  ‘I really screwed up, didn’t I?’ He sighed.

  ‘Need you ask? Now, Mr Cayman, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get home. I suggest you turn around and spend the evening writing a report for your employers. Be sure to
include everything.’

  ‘That’s not how I plan to spend my evening.’

  ‘If you follow me again I’ll call the police.’

  ‘What for? Surely you can deal with this situation without help. I’d back you against the police any day.’

  ‘That was an entirely unnecessary observation.’

  ‘I thought I was paying you a compliment.’

  ‘Then we have different ideas about what constitutes a compliment. Goodnight!’

  CHAPTER TWO

  W ITHOUT waiting for a reply, Olympia got back into her car and started up with a vigour that threatened to finish off the engine. Primo sighed, returned to his own car and pulled out.

  What happened next was something he was never quite able to analyse, except to say that he was still mentally in Italy, where drivers used the other side of the road, and the steering was on the other side of the car. In daylight he might have coped better, but with lights glaring at him out of the darkness he briefly lost his sense of direction. The next thing he knew was an ugly scraping sound of metal on metal and a hefty clout on the head.

  He swore, more at the indignity than the pain.

  Olympia appeared, pulling open his door. ‘Oh, great. All I need is a clown to ram my new car-hey, are you all right?’

  ‘Sure, fine,’ he lied, blinking and making a vain effort to clear his head.

  ‘You don’t look it. You look as if you were seeing stars. Did you hit your head?’

  ‘Just a little bump. What about you? Are you hurt?’

  ‘No, my car took all the damage. There’s not a scratch on me.’

  He got out, moving slowly because his head was swimming, and surveyed what he could see of the dent. There was no doubt who had hit whom, he thought, annoyed with himself for ceding a point to her.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he groaned.

  ‘Never mind that now. Let’s get you to a hospital.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Your head needs looking at.’

  ‘It’s just a scratch. I don’t want any hospital.’

  ‘You’ve got to-’ She checked herself. ‘All right, but I’m not letting you out of my sight for a while. You can come home with me. No-’ she added quickly as he turned back to the car. ‘You’re not driving in that state. I’ll take you.’