much, but the fact he left her alone to make her choices made her feel somewhat better. It was as if he was telling her that he believed in her judgment, and she appreciated that more than she could say.
After what seemed like hours, the parade came to an end. Renzo said something in Italian, all the saleswomen melted away except for one, and Faith was left standing in the final outfit, a soft, pale green silk dress, belted at the waist, and a pair of sky-high designer heels in a rich cream color. She had to admit she loved the outfit, and hoped it was one they could buy. She felt sophisticated and pretty, like a princess instead of a secretary.
“We are finished here,” Renzo said, and she blinked at him.
“But I need to change back into my clothes—”
“Those are your clothes,” he told her. “The rest will be sent along.”
“The rest?”
“Everything you chose.”
“Everything?” If she’d had any idea, she would have been more careful. She’d liked so many things. So many expensive things. She shook her head. “It’s too much. I can never repay you.”
Renzo came over and put his hands on her shoulders. In the heels, she didn’t have to tilt her head back to look at his expression. His gaze slid down her body, to the buttons on her dress that came together just over her cleavage, and then met her eyes once more while her insides began to melt. “Mia bella, it gives me pleasure to do this for you. I have told you before to consider this as a part of your compensation for accompanying me. It is not easy to leave behind one’s friends and home, now is it?”
It was when you didn’t really have any friends, and the home didn’t belong to you, but Faith didn’t say that. “I feel like it’s too much,” she said.
“And I feel like it’s not enough. Which of us is right?”
“I’m pretty sure I am. My sense of what things cost is probably more realistic than yours.”
Renzo laughed even as he looped her arm in his. “You are a refreshing woman, Faith. You speak your mind without care for what I might think. I like it.”
“You have enough women feeding your ego,” she grumbled, and he laughed again.
They exited the shop and got into the waiting car. Faith turned her head to look out the window at the shops opposite, suddenly uncomfortable to be alone with him again. She didn’t know why she should be, but she was.
Not because she was afraid of him, but because she was afraid of herself, she realized. The entire time she’d been trying on clothes, she’d been thinking of how he would look at her when she walked out in each outfit. What would Renzo think? What would he do? Would he look at her like he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her again, the way he had in her apartment?
It was dangerous to think of him like that. Dangerous to think for even a moment that she wanted him to kiss her. There was nothing but heartbreak in allowing herself to think of a man like Renzo wanting her. She was his PA, not his girlfriend.
“I do understand the value of money, cara,” he said, his voice breaking the silence between them as the car rolled through the streets of Rome. “I was not born rich.”
She turned to look at him. She knew that, of course, because she’d read all about him when she’d joined the company. He’d started competing in motorcycle races at seventeen, had been picked up by a major manufacturer and ridden their motorcycles for a few years before coming up with his own designs. He’d poured every euro he had into building his first motorcycle, gotten sponsorship and investors and built D’Angeli Motors into a powerhouse in the industry while others had looked on in shock.
Renzo was formidable, both in his industry and in life, she thought. No wonder he’d maneuvered her so smoothly into changing her hair and buying clothes today. He did not accept defeat. Ever. “Did you grow up in Rome?” she asked.
His gaze was blank. “No. A small town on the Amalfi Coast. My mother was a waitress in a hotel there.”
“And your father?”
The corners of his mouth tightened, and a throb of premonition squeezed her heart. “I do not have a father, cara.”
She didn’t quite know what to say to that. She felt like she’d tripped into a minefield, and there was nothing to do now but finish the journey and hope for the best. “I’m sorry, Renzo.”
He shrugged. “It has been this way my whole life. I am not bothered by it.”
But he was. She could tell by the bleak look on his face, the way his voice was carefully controlled. Whatever it was, it bothered him a great deal.
“My father is a preacher,” she said, and then wondered why she’d admitted that to him. But he’d seemed so lost, and she’d found herself wanting to confess that while she had a father, their relationship wasn’t perfect.
He looked at her with interest. “A preacher? What is this?”
Faith twisted her fingers together. She didn’t like talking about her family. It inevitably brought up painful memories, but she’d started the conversation and had to finish it. “He’s a minister. In a church.”
“Ah, I see.” His gaze was suddenly keen. “Perhaps this explains much about you.”
It explained a lot, actually, but she was far too embarrassed to tell him all of it. “He was a hard man to live with,” she said softly. “He expected much out of his children. I was the disappointment. My brother Albert was an Eagle Scout, and I …”
She swallowed. Renzo reached for her hand. She let him take it, a little tingle of awareness beginning to sizzle up her spine as he threaded his fingers in hers.
“All children think they are a disappointment at one time or another. It is rarely true, I believe.”
“It is definitely true in my case,” Faith said. “I haven’t spoken to my father in eight years.”
His eyes searched hers, their blue depths full of dark emotion. “I’m sorry, Faith. I can tell this upsets you.”
She shrugged. But yes, it hurt, even after all this time. She’d been so stupid. So naive and innocent and gullible. And she’d paid the price. Jason hadn’t. He was a male, and males stuck together.
“I, um, I shouldn’t have said anything,” she replied, her gaze firmly fixed on their linked hands. “It makes me uncomfortable to talk about it.”
He brought her hand to his mouth and feathered his lips across her skin. His breath was hot as he spoke. “Then we will not speak of it again.”
Tears pricked her eyes. She really didn’t want to like him, and yet she couldn’t quite help it at the moment. “Thank you.”
“It is nothing,” he said. And then his voice grew firm, determined. “You are a good woman, Faith. Never believe otherwise.”
“You don’t really know me,” she said. “I might be nothing more than a very good actress.”
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