His Royal Love-Child. Lucy Monroe
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“I do not expect my employees to give up all life outside of work in order to serve Scorsolini Shipping.” He watched her stretch with disturbing intensity. “It is not the same for me. I have more reasons than most company presidents to make sure my business is a success.”
“What do you mean?” she asked curiously as she smoothed her hair with a nervous hand.
The flirtatious facade she had created to deal with men deserted her in his company. She was lucky to string two syllables together that made sense when he spoke to her.
“The people of my country rely on the income from Scorsolini Shipping worldwide to maintain a standard of living in line with the other industrialized nations.”
“You mean Isole dei Re?”
“Yes, naturally.”
She didn’t want to sit down again, but she felt exposed standing there behind her desk. She compromised by busying herself stacking the papers related to the sales projection report. It was the way he was looking at her…not at all like a boss looks at his employee.
More like a predator sizing up its prey.
She searched her mind for something to say. “I don’t understand how Isole dei Re can be so reliant on this division of Scorsolini Shipping. There are only a handful of your countrymen and women employed here.”
“You know this how?”
“I asked.”
“It is interesting that you care.” His still predatory gaze probed her speculatively.
“Everything about the company I work for interests me.”
Marcello moved further into the room. “And the man you work for, does he interest you, I wonder?”
“You didn’t just say that.” She stared at him, shock coursing through her.
He smiled, his blue eyes full of knowing amusement. “I did, but we will leave it for the moment and I will answer your other question. While I do not employ many of my country’s subjects, half of the net profits of all Scorsolini companies are paid into the national treasury and used to maintain and improve the country’s infrastructure.”
“You mean things like hospitals?” she asked, fascinated. It had never occurred to her that the royal family gave back to their country on such an overwhelming scale.
“That and roads, schools, police and fire departments…the many things citizens of larger countries take for granted as being paid for by tax dollars.”
“Wow.”
“The money must come from somewhere.”
“And Scorsolini Shipping is it?”
“Along with what tax dollars we do receive in revenue and the other enterprises of our country. My older brother, Tomasso, has recently supervised the discovery of lithium mines on Rubino. He has taken Scorsolini Mining and Jewels to an unprecedented level.” His voice rang with pride in his brother’s achievement.
“Funny, that’s what Angelo Gordon told me you had done with the Italian arm of Scorsolini Shipping.”
“My father and older brother are pleased with my efforts.”
“They should be.” And then she blushed at the vehemence of her words.
But he smiled, apparently pleased by her words. “My older brother, Claudio, has recently informed me that when he ascends to the throne, he and Tomasso have agreed that I will take over the entire shipping company while Tomasso maintains his position as head of Scorsolini Mining and Jewels.”
“Did that surprise you?”
He nodded, coming closer, his presence filling her senses. “Normally the second son would take that position and I would either continue as I am or take Tomasso’s position, but because he has taken that side of our family’s holdings so far and my brothers and father are content with my performance here, I will be given the honor.”
“That’s wonderful! I suppose you celebrated by working a few extra twenty-hour days,” she teased, knowing from the company grapevine that was exactly what he’d been doing lately.
He came around the desk and leaned against it, not six inches from where she stood. “Just as you have done?”
“Touché.” She stopped in the act of reaching for the papers she’d stacked so she could file them. Doing so would require leaning into him and her senses were headed toward overload as it was. “I just don’t want my boss to regret his decision to promote me,” she said a trifle breathlessly.
“I also feel this need…in relation to the confidence my family has put in me.”
His scent was teasing at her olfactory senses and she wanted to get closer, which was insane under the circumstances. “I guess…um…that we have something in common.”
He reached out and touched her. Just a light brush against her cheek, but she felt paralyzed by it.
“Perhaps more than this single thing,” he suggested.
Her face tingled where he had brushed it. “I can’t imagine that we could have much else. Our lives are very different.”
“Perhaps, but I think you are wrong. Will you have dinner with me tonight to find out?”
“What?” She shook her head, trying to clear it. The president of Scorsolini Shipping had asked her out on a date?
“I would like you to have dinner with me.”
“But…”
“I like you, Danette, and I hope you like me, too.” But his confident smile said he already knew she did, that he knew exactly the effect his nearness was having on her body.
“Of course I like you, but you asked me out on a date. I’m not your type.”
“And you base this assumption on what?”
“Everybody knows you date really gorgeous women.”
“You are beautiful.”
She snorted at that. “I have a mirror. I’m nothing like the women you normally have your picture taken with.”
“That is window dressing…a facade I present to the world to keep my private life private.” He looked so sincere, but he couldn’t be serious.
“But—”
“Come to dinner with me and see what kind of man I am when the paparazzi are not present with their insidious cameras.”
“My job…” she said uncertainly.