the fact that she was working for Rafaele. Back in a place where she’d never expected or wanted to be. She felt as if she was that girl all over again—that naive student, obsessed with her boss. Watching out for him. Aware of him. Blushing when their gazes met. It was galling and humiliating. Especially when Rafaele appeared so cool and seemed to be making every effort to steer well clear of Sam. Only addressing her in groups of people. Never seeking her out alone.
Even on their car rides to the factory and back their conversation centred mainly around Milo or work.
Her hands clenched to fists now, even as her whole body seemed to ache. She was glad. She was. She didn’t want history to repeat itself. Not in a million years. It had almost been easier when Rafaele had hated her; now that they were in this uneasy truce it was so much more confusing to deal with.
Sam noticed the clock on the wall then, and saw how late it was. Normally Rafaele’s assistant would have rung to inform her that he was leaving by now. Giving up any pretence that she could continue to work while waiting, Sam decided to pack up and find him herself. She would inform him she was going home. He’d offered her one of the cars if she wished, so now perhaps it was time to assert some more independence from him.
Heading for his office, she saw it was quiet all around, most of the other staff and the main engineers and mechanics having left. His own secretary’s desk was clear and empty in the plush anteroom of his office.
She hesitated for a second outside his door and then knocked. After a few seconds she heard him call abruptly, ‘Come in.’
* * *
Rafaele glanced up from his phone call, frowning slightly at the interruption, and then when Sam walked in his whole body reacted, making a complete mockery of any illusion of control over his rogue hormones. She stopped in her tracks and made a motion to leave again, seeing he was on the phone, but everything within him rejected that and he held up his finger, indicating for her to wait.
She closed the door behind her and he couldn’t stop the anticipation spiking in his blood. For two weeks now Rafaele had thought he was doing a good job of avoiding her. But it didn’t matter how much space he put between them; he saw her everywhere. Worst of all was in the house at night—that cosy, domestic house, with his son sleeping just down the hall—when all he could think about doing was going into Sam’s room, stripping her bare and sinking deep between her long legs.
His body was hardening even now, shaming him with his lack of control. The person on the other end of the phone continued talking but they might as well have been talking the language of the Dodo for all Rafaele heard. His gaze travelled down Sam’s back and legs hungrily, taking in her slim build and the sweet lush curve of her buttocks as she turned away to look at a model of one of the first cars he’d designed.
When she turned back slightly he could see the profile swell of her breasts and immediately a memory came back, of spilling drops of Prosecco onto one pebbled nipple, making it grow hard— Sweat broke out on Rafaele’s upper lip. This was untenable.
Abruptly he terminated the phone conversation, giving up any pretence of control. Sam had turned around to face him and he asked, more curtly than he’d intended, ‘What do you want?’
Her face flushed and Rafaele pushed down the lurch of his conscience. Damn her and the way she did that, making him feel like a heel.
‘I just...it’s after six. We usually leave before now.’
The we struck him somewhere forcibly. He stood up and saw how Sam’s eyes widened. His body reacted to that look and he cursed her again.
He reacted viscerally. ‘I think this is a mistake.’
She frowned. ‘What’s a mistake?’
‘You...here.’ Dammit, he couldn’t even string a coherent sentence together. The longer she stood there, the more he was imagining her naked, opening up to him, giving him the release he’d only ever found with her. Seeing her here at the factory these past two weeks had been giving him moments of severe déjà vu.
She was still frowning, but had gone still. ‘Me...here... What exactly do you mean, Rafaele?’
Why was it that the way she said his name in that soft, low voice seemed to curl around his senses, making everything even more heightened?
He gritted out, through the waves of need assailing him, ‘I shouldn’t have insisted you work here. It was a bad idea.’
The unmistakable flare of hurt made her eyes glow bright grey for a moment, reminding Rafaele uncomfortably of another day, in another office, four years before.
Stiffly she said, ‘I thought I was doing everything you wanted—we set up the research facility here in one week. I know it still needs more work, but it’s only been two weeks—’
Rafaele slashed a hand, making her stop. ‘It’s not that.’
Sounding wounded, she said, ‘Well, what, then?’
Rafaele wanted to laugh. Could she not see how ravenous he was for her? He felt like a beast, panting for its prey.
He smiled grimly. ‘It’s you. Uniquely. I thought I could do this. But I can’t. I think you should go back to the university...someone else can take over here.’
Sam straightened before him and her eyes flashed—but with anger and something more indefinable this time.
‘You insisted on turning my world upside down, Rafaele, and now, just because you can’t abide the sight of me, you think you can cast me out again? It seems as if you rather overestimated your desire for control, doesn’t it? Well, if you’ve quite decided where it is you want me then don’t worry. I’ll be only too happy to get out of your way.’
* * *
Sam was quivering with impotent rage. She wanted to go over and slap Rafaele. Hard. It could be four years ago all over again. With nothing learned in the meantime. She was standing before Rafaele in his office and he was basically rejecting her. Again.
And, like before, Sam was terrified she’d crumple before him, so she fled for the door. But when she tried to open it with clammy hands it slammed shut again, and she squealed with shock when she felt a solid, hard presence behind her.
She whirled around to find her eye level at Rafaele’s broad chest and looked up. Emotion was high in her throat. Her eyes were burning. ‘Let me out of here, now.’
The hurt that had gripped her like a vice in her belly at hearing him say so starkly that he basically couldn’t stand to see her every day was still like acid.
‘You’ve got it wrong,’ he gritted out, jaw tight, seemingly oblivious to what she’d just said. His hand was snaking around her neck under her hair, making her breath catch. His eyes were like green gems. Glittering.
Sam swallowed the pain, determined he wouldn’t see it, but she was acutely aware of how close he was—almost close enough for his chest to touch her breasts. They tightened, growing heavy, the nipples pebbling into hard points.
‘Got what wrong?’ she spat out.
‘I didn’t overestimate my desire for control... I overestimated my ability to resist you.’
Sam
