you’ll be on hand, doing what I want you to do, not off sightseeing.’
For a moment her eyes glowed and he could have sworn the temperature in the room rose a couple of degrees. But her temper didn’t ignite. She really had phenomenal control.
Raffa refused to consider why he enjoyed testing it.
‘You may recall I didn’t want to come to New York. If you’re concerned I’ll get distracted I could go home and work there.’
He shook his head. ‘You’ll stay where you are till the other apartment is ready. I’m paying top dollar for your services. I want to be sure I get my money’s worth.’
‘You don’t trust me?’ Her head angled as if to view him better.
‘I don’t trust anyone till they prove themselves.’
Her gaze sharpened. ‘You were the one eager to have me here.’
He shrugged and steepled his hands, elbows on the arms of his chair.
‘Based on past performance, I judge you to be the person I need. But this project is more important than any you’ve done. Nothing will be left to chance.’
* * *
Lily looked into those bright blue eyes, felt the intensity of that searing stare and knew they’d reached the heart of things.
She felt the change in him. The quickening, the sizzle of energy.
Their conversation up to now had been skirmishes. Maybe he kept all new staff on their toes till he was convinced of their worth. Though why he’d take such a personal interest in her she couldn’t fathom.
‘Why is it so important?’
The furrow on his tanned brow disappeared as he leaned back. ‘I won’t brook failure on this.’
As far as Lily knew he never failed. Raffaele Petri had a nose for a good deal and a reputation for success. He also had an unerring instinct for what would appeal to the wealthiest clientele. That was how he’d built his fortune, with elite resorts, clubs and now marinas servicing those who demanded the best in everything. The rich always had enough to spend on themselves despite economic downturns that affected people like her, struggling to make a go of things.
‘This man I’m to focus on, Robert Bradshaw...’
‘Yes?’
‘Can you tell me about him?’
‘That’s your job. I want a full report—his business interests, friends and connections. Everything.’ Raffaele Petri’s expression didn’t alter but Lily heard something in his voice that made the hair at her nape rise.
She had the disquieting certainty she was venturing into dangerous waters. Once more instinct yelled at her to back out. But she had no choice. He’d destroy her reputation if she reneged on this job.
‘It would help if you told me something about the project.’
He regarded her, unblinking, and she shivered. It was said Raffaele Petri could seduce a woman with a glance from those stunning ocean-blue eyes. Not that he’d ever turn his fabled seduction skills on her. But what she read there now was hard calculation. Shrewdness as if he assessed her, deciding how much to share.
Not much, if the firm set of his sculpted jaw was an indication.
Lily stared back, trying to ignore the tremor of feminine response fluttering through her belly and the teasing trickle of heat in her blood.
What a time for her hormones to wake up from hibernation!
She breathed deep, corralling her thoughts. ‘My other commissions for you have been to research companies or commercial trends, even localities.’ They had been to determine if a site or company would be a good investment. ‘This time it’s about a man.’
Still he said nothing, as if waiting to see how far she could go connecting the dots.
Exasperation rose. ‘Is there a particular angle I’m to focus on?’
‘I told you. Everything. The size and nature of his income. His business associates. His interests, his weaknesses and habits. Who he sleeps with. The lot.’
Was it imagination, or did that stare harden?
She didn’t imagine it. His voice when he’d said ‘who he sleeps with’ was different, his Italian accent stronger, like rich chocolate coating a lethal stiletto blade. She fought to repress a shiver. Whoever Robert Bradshaw was, whatever he’d done, she’d hate to be in his shoes.
In that instant Lily felt what she’d understood only intellectually before: Raffaele Petri would be a dangerous enemy.
Just as well she was too insignificant to be his enemy.
‘I see.’ She didn’t, but clearly he wasn’t going to enlighten her. ‘Okay. I’ll do the best I can.’
‘That’s not good enough. I need to know you’ll deliver the goods.’
‘You’ll get your report, Signor Petri. But it will take time. This is a broad brief.’ She waved one hand, trying to look brisk and organised, despite the chill sinking between her shoulder blades. ‘His commercial interests and associates I can uncover. I’ll do a thorough check on all those. His property and lifestyle, ditto. But there are limits.’
‘Limits?’ Dark eyebrows rose as if he’d never heard the word.
‘I’m a researcher, Signor Petri, not a private detective. If you want information on this man’s personal life, you’d do better hiring one of those. They can stake out his residence and give you an account of his comings and goings.’
He was already shaking his head. ‘I learned long ago not to trust them. I want results, not excuses.’
Surprised, Lily leaned forward, then froze as she registered a warm, spicy scent. It teased her nostrils, sending shockwaves of delight to her belly.
It made her think of photos she’d seen of this man years ago. He’d lain half naked on a rumpled bed, jaw shadowed and his arms raised behind his head in a pose that accentuated the impressive musculature of his chest and arms. The sight had coaxed millions of women to buy decadently expensive aftershave for their men.
Was that what she smelled now? Lily inhaled, wondering at the art of producing a fragrance that seemed so purely natural, like hot male flesh and forbidden longing.
Abruptly she pulled back, trying to remember her train of thought.
That was it. When had he used private detectives in the past, and why didn’t he like them?
His expression made it clear he wouldn’t answer.
She shrugged. ‘It’s up to you. I’m just warning you that there are limits to my capabilities.’
‘Yet you once worked in a private detection firm, even received some training.’
Lily
