Her Italian Boss’s Agenda Page 7

‘I’ve bought it. There’s no room for both of you, so there’ll be a merger. Those who want to continue working are guaranteed a job at Kellway’s. Those who don’t can apply for voluntary redundancy.’

  Forty faces turned accusingly towards Olympia.

  ‘But she said you were going to close us down and chuck us out,’ Mr Jakes said.

  ‘Did you say that?’ Jack Cayman asked.

  ‘I-not in those exact words. But you said-’

  ‘I said this place wasn’t viable, and it isn’t, on its own. A merger makes sense. I never mentioned chucking people out. That was your spin. You shouldn’t jump to conclusions.’

  ‘I-’

  ‘Before we leave we’d better sort out who wants to stay and who doesn’t. Mr Jakes, your position is protected. Kellway’s is eager to get you.’

  ‘You mean I don’t get the redundancy?’ Mr Jakes demanded.

  ‘Of course, if you want it.’

  ‘You bet I want it. I can go and see my daughter in Australia.’

  Olympia stared. Was there anything she hadn’t got wrong?

  It took a couple of hours before they were ready to leave and then the cheers followed them. As they walked back to the pub he said, ‘Do we have time to reach the other place tonight?’

  ‘Just about.’

  She took the wheel for the three hour drive. They said little on the journey, each saving energy for what was to come. This time the journey was to the Midlands and they managed to find a small hotel, just in time for the last serving of dinner.

  Only when they were sitting over the soup did she say crossly, ‘You made a complete fool of me.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to. You shouldn’t have made that announcement without consulting me first.’

  ‘I never thought you’d do anything like that. Anyway, suppose Signor Rinucci doesn’t agree with you about this purchase?’

  ‘He will.’

  ‘Just like that?’

  ‘Why not? It’s the logical next step. You didn’t see it because you haven’t the right mindset, but you’ll learn.’

  ‘The right mindset for Leonate, you mean?’

  ‘No, for any successful business. You’re still thinking on a small scale and that’s no use for an international conglomerate.’

  ‘So how do I learn to think “international” if I can’t get to meet the big boss?’

  ‘Still fixated on him, huh?’

  ‘You knew that.’

  ‘Nothing’s changed?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she said firmly.

  ‘What about all that warmth and humanity you were showing signs of?’

  ‘An aberration. I’ll get over it. Besides, look what a mess I made. I got Mr Jakes all wrong. But you didn’t,’ she added as the realisation came to her. ‘You understood him.’

  ‘So maybe I’m not just figures and accounts?’ he said with a slight inflection of teasing.

  ‘Did I say that? I don’t remember.’

  ‘You’re tired. That was a long drive and we have a lot to get through tomorrow. Let’s finish the meal and get some rest.’

  She was only too glad to agree. She felt as though something had knocked her sideways, but she couldn’t quite work out what it was.

  Tired as she was, she found it hard to sleep. Lying awake for hours, she became aware of him on the other side of the thin wall. She could hear his bed creak, his footsteps on the floor, his window being pushed up as if he were drinking in the night air, then his bed again, sounding as though he were tossing and turning.

  She wondered what he was thinking and why he should be as restless as herself.

  The next day was more successful. As before, they arrived without warning and walked in as the manager was talking with a dissatisfied customer. It soon became clear that a trivial matter had been blown out of all proportion, chiefly because the customer had a quarrelsome nature.

  He was inclined to take umbrage at the new arrivals, but within minutes Olympia had taken over, dazzled the man with her smile and calmed him down to the point where a sensible conversation became possible.

  By the time she had finished, the order was not only rescued but increased and the customer was purring with content. Primo took them all to lunch and kept the manager locked in conversation while Olympia completed her demolition job on the customer.

  They left town in time to get back to London quite early and laughed all the way.

  ‘You did a great job,’ he told her. ‘I’ve never seen a fish reeled in so cleverly. How about we celebrate tonight?’

  Her answer was a blissful sigh.

  In mid-afternoon he dropped her at her apartment block.

  ‘We’ll go to The Diamond Parrot,’ he said, naming London’s newest and plushest nightclub. ‘Do you have a black dress?’

  ‘I think so,’ she said cautiously, knowing that she hadn’t.

  ‘Well, you’d better take the rest of the afternoon off to make sure,’ he said, understanding perfectly.

  He might have meant any kind of black dress, but the one she purchased was definitely slinky. It was made from silk and hugged her hips in a satisfactory way. When he saw it he gave a nod of satisfaction.

  ‘That’s just how I imagined you when I bought this,’ he said, producing a black velvet box.

  Inside was a delicate set of diamond earrings and matching pendant.

  ‘A bonus for a job well done,’ he said.

  ‘From the firm?’

  ‘Certainly from the firm. We cherish our valuable employees.’

  He watched as she slipped the earrings into place, then turned so that he could drape the pendant around her neck. To his dismay he discovered that he was reluctant. Her long neck was white and perfect, an invitation that he must not accept. He tried to fasten the clasp without touching her, then backed off quickly, lest he yield to the temptation to drop a kiss on her nape.

  ‘Fine, let’s go,’ he said in a voice that he hoped didn’t shake.

  She looked around with a little frown, as though in surprise. He turned away from that surprise, afraid of the insight it might create. She must never guess, not until he was ready to tell her, and they could laugh together, sharing the moment of discovery.

  That time, when it came, would be sweet. But it couldn’t be rushed without risking everything.

  He hadn’t yet defined what ‘everything’ might mean, but he knew that with each word, each step he had to be more careful. If this had been a conventional relationship he would have often taken her into his arms by now, kissing her long and fervently, letting passion take them wherever it might. But that was forbidden while she didn’t know the truth. Even his thoughts were forbidden, although the struggle to rein them in grew harder every moment.

  It was like conducting a clandestine relationship with a married woman, he thought in frustration. Except that he, himself, was the betrayed ‘husband’.

  Suddenly the evening ahead didn’t seem like such a good idea. She would sit beside him, beautiful, glowing, and he must try to stay calm.

  He groaned.

  They found The Diamond Parrot in festive mode, having decided to make St Valentine’s Day last a while longer.

  ‘St Valentine’s Week,’ he murmured as they entered through dark red velvet curtains. ‘It’s original. I wish I could say the same about the roses and the glittering hearts.’

  ‘They’ve really overdone it, haven’t they?’ Olympia chuckled.

  A waiter showed them to a table on the edge of the dance floor. One or two couples were already smooching around to the music of a small band and a glittery chanteuse who crooned about moon and June.

  For a while they talked little, but relaxed after the hard work of the last two days. Olympia felt good, knowing she had impressed him, and knowing also that she looked her best. From time to time she touched the delicate diamonds about her neck, puzzled again by the constraint she had sensed in his manner as he’d clasped it about her neck.

  She had waited for the feel of h
is fingers gently caressing the sensitive nape, as any other man would have done. But there had been nothing but the most impersonal touch as he’d fixed the clasp. She hadn’t even felt his breath against her skin, as though he were standing back to avoid her.

  ‘You shouldn’t be here,’ she said. ‘You should be making your report to Head Office.’

  ‘After the roller coaster of the last few days I need to think about what I’m going to say. You make it difficult because you’re never the same person from one moment to the next.’

  ‘You don’t have to tell them about me as a person, just as a businesswoman.’

  ‘As a businesswoman you’re impressive. What you did with that customer today-well-’

  ‘That’s just part of my repertoire,’ she said with a chuckle. ‘The trick is to get his attention first with the old-fashioned fluttering eye technique. Then, when he’s got you down as a stupid bimbo, you bash him over the head with facts and figures. Leaves ’em reeling every time.’

  ‘You’re good at the fluttering eye bit, I take it.’

  ‘Yes, but if you do it slowly it’s more effective.

  She gave a long sigh, lowering and raising her eyelids just once, very slowly. He drew a sharp breath. It was like seeing her eyes for the first time ever, unprepared for their impact. To make it worse, she gave a languorous smile, letting her lips fall apart very slightly.

  ‘Is that what you plan to do with him?’ he asked.

  ‘Him?’ she asked vaguely. ‘Who?’

  ‘Primo Rinucci.’

  She was suddenly angry. Why did he have to drag Primo Rinucci into everything?

  ‘You think that’ll work, huh?’ she asked in a slightly edgy voice.

  ‘Sure to. Especially with all the practice you’re getting on me. Teasing is always a good bet, especially when you manage to keep your distance at the same time. It’ll stop him getting the wrong ideas. Either that or it’ll incite him to more ideas. One of the two. You’ll have to decide which you want. It wouldn’t do to become confused.’

  ‘It may not give him any ideas at all,’ she couldn’t resist saying. ‘It seems to leave you cold.’

  ‘It isn’t supposed to give me ideas,’ he pointed out. ‘I’m just here to help you in your mission in life. When you’ve sharpened your claws on me, you’ll bring your lion down.’

  She chuckled suddenly.

  ‘When I’ve done that, will you take pictures of me standing with one foot on his helpless form, like the old hunters used to do?’

  ‘I’ll even help you mount his head on the wall,’ he promised. ‘You can put it in the centre of all the other trophies.’

  ‘What other trophies?’

  ‘The others you’ve used for practice, with my head in the centre.’

  ‘Uh-uh!’ she said, shaking her head. ‘You can stay cool about it. That’s what makes you so valuable.’

  It was a let-out and he should have seized it, but some demon urged him on to say, ‘I should have thought it made me useless. If nothing works with me, how are you going to know what works with him?’

  ‘Aha!’ She seemed much struck by this point of view. After considering for a moment she asked, ‘Do you and he have the same tastes?’

  ‘Pretty similar,’ he said, crossing his fingers and wishing he’d never started this.

  ‘Is he-or you-sophisticated or corny?’

  ‘How do you mean, corny?’

  ‘You remember those old Hollywood films where the heroine wore her hair tight back, then pulled it loose to signify that she was starting a new life? That kind of corny.’

  ‘I don’t think I ever saw those films,’ he said, rashly tempting fate.

  ‘Like this.’

  With a swift movement, she tugged at her hair so that it came free, flooding over her bare shoulders like a black silky fountain. Some of it fell down the sides of her face, throwing her features into mysterious shadow.

  Una strega. Una bellissima strega magica.

  ‘That’s how they do it,’ she said, ‘and the hero takes one look at her and goes gaga, because he’s thinking, How can that grim-faced harpy have turned into this seductive creature? And she doesn’t tell him the truth, which is that it took six hours and the entire make-up department, and if he’s fool enough to marry her it’s the grim harpy he’ll find on the pillow in the morning. Oh, no, she lets him think it’s the power of ler-rrve.’

  The satirical inflection she put on the last word had him choking with laughter. At the same time, he wished she hadn’t used the words ‘pillow’ and ‘in the morning’. This was hard enough without her turning it into a testing ground for self-control.

  ‘They tend to believe in ler-rrve in films,’ he said. ‘If they showed your point of view, nobody would go. No-leave it as it is.’ She’d begun drawing her hair back again. ‘Keep it like that while I do some thinking. It might give me some ideas to improve your technique.’

  ‘I’m glad you have a sense of proportion about this,’ she said. ‘It’s a great help. Unless-’ She stopped as a horrible thought assailed her. ‘Jack, you’re not-? I mean, this isn’t all pointless, is it? You’d have told me?’

  ‘Told you what?’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘No, I don’t.’ In fact he did, but he’d be blowed if he’d let her off the hook that easily. Let her suffer for a change.

  ‘You’re not-are you?’

  He gave her a twisted smile. ‘Are you trying to ask me if I’m gay?’

  ‘Well-are you?’

  ‘On the principle that anyone who doesn’t try to rush you into bed is pointing in the other direction? Hm! Well, it’s a thought.’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘Would it matter?’

  ‘Of course it would matter. How could you advise me about him if you-?’

  ‘Well, maybe he is too.’

  ‘Is he?’

  ‘How would I know? I’ve never propositioned him.’

  She glared at him. ‘Have I been wasting my time?’

  ‘Doesn’t your womanly intuition tell you one way or the other?’ He was getting his own back now and it felt great. ‘Am I not interested, or am I simply the perfect gentleman? Strange how hard it is to tell the difference these days.’

  ‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’ she fumed.

  ‘You bet I am. And why shouldn’t I? The joke’s been on me all this time, now it’s your turn.’

  ‘What do you mean? How has the joke been on you?’

  With his feet at the very edge of the precipice, he pulled back sharply. He’d forgotten how little she knew.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said quickly.

  ‘It must have meant something.’

  ‘Then I’ll just leave you to wonder. And in the meantime-Olympia-Olympia?’

  The speed with which she’d switched her attention away from him would have been comic if it hadn’t been dismaying. Now she was looking out into the semi-darkness on the dance floor.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked, taking her hand and squeezing it to get her attention.

  ‘Nothing, I-I must have imagined it.’

  ‘Whatever you imagined seems to have upset you. Can’t you tell me?’

  ‘I just thought I saw someone I knew-but in this light I’m probably mistaken.’

  Unconsciously her hand had tightened on his until he winced from the pressure.

  ‘Who is it?’ he asked.

  ‘My ex-husband.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  H E STARED at her. ‘Your ex? Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, that’s David-I think.’

  ‘Does it matter?’ he asked, shocked to realise that she was trembling. ‘It’s not as though you still love him-do you?’

  ‘No, of course not. But it’s the first time I’ve seen him since we split. Perhaps it isn’t him,’ she added, almost hopefully.

  ‘But you can’t be easy until you’re sure?’

  Suddenly her carefully honed confidence deserted her. ‘What
can I do? I can’t walk over there and take a look.’

  ‘You can if we’re dancing.’

  ‘But-’

  ‘Olympia, you’ve got to do this. If you flunk it you’ll never be able to look yourself in the mirror again.’

  She knew it, but she was too nervous to think straight.

  ‘Let’s leave it,’ she whispered. ‘The past is the past.’

  His hand tightened over hers. ‘Nonsense. The past is never the past until you’ve faced it and told it to get the hell out of your way. What happened to the “can do” tycoon I’ve got to know?’

  ‘She turned into a “can’t do” wimp,’ she said with a shaky laugh.

  ‘No, she didn’t. She just needs a friend to take her hand, like this.’

  Giving her no chance to refuse, he drew her to her feet and on to the dance floor.

  With a shock Olympia realised that he was finally holding her. So many times he could have taken her into his arms, and so many times he’d refused. Now he’d done so under the guise of a dance. But that was what dancing was for-to embrace, to hold each other closely and feel the pressure of each other’s body and the exchange of warm breath, without admitting that was what you were doing.

  ‘Which way?’ he murmured, his breath brushing her cheek.

  ‘Near the orchestra.’

  Closer and closer they went while her eyes searched the tables at the edge of the dance floor until she found what she was seeking.

  Her first thought was to wonder how she’d ever recognised him. David was plumper, sleeker, beginning to lose his hair, and there was an expression of discontent on his face that mirrored that of the woman sitting near him.

  Rosalie! It took Olympia a moment to identify this stodgy creature with the elegant nymph who had persisted in her memory, but this was Rosalie now.

  ‘Is that him?’ her partner asked.

  ‘I think-yes, it is.’

  ‘And the woman with him?’

  ‘Rosalie, his wife.’

  ‘He made a bad bargain when he traded you for her,’ said her friend.

  Now Olympia saw that there were six people at the table. David’s father-in-law was there with his wife, David and Rosalie, and two men who Olympia guessed were business contacts being entertained. One of them asked Rosalie to dance. Smiling, she took the floor with him.