From Melbourne to Mumbai, London to Los Angeles.’
Again that lethal pause, allowing her time to process the bleak scenario he’d painted. Her name would be mud with the really big enterprises, the internationals she’d set her sights on to make her expanded business a success.
‘You’ll go out of your way to blacken my name?’ Her voice was a thin scratch of sound but at least it was steady. Unlike the rest of her. She shook as if with fever.
‘I’ll be sure to mention it whenever appropriate.’ In other words he’d take delight in savaging her reputation.
Hatred coiled, tightening in her belly. Hatred as she’d only ever felt once before, for the guy who’d changed her life in an instant—from carefree to a grim round of medical treatments. Her hand lifted to her face.
Swallowing hard, Lily turned the nervous gesture into a defiant flick of the wrist, sending her long hair flying back from her face. Deliberately she set her chin, staring at her face reflected in the window.
One thing Raffaele Petri didn’t know—she was a fighter. She’d survived far worse than he could dish out and emerged stronger as a result.
She lowered her hand, smoothing the quilt as she dragged in aching breaths. She opened her mouth to speak but he beat her to it.
‘Of course if you were to change your mind...’
Fury swamped her. He knew she had no choice.
Even so, part of her brain noted that the snake in the Garden of Eden must have sounded like this. No hissing, no sharpness. Just a lush, seductive roll of sound that invited her to go against everything she knew and trusted. To take the plunge, even though it must end in disaster.
‘You’re nothing if not predictable, Signor Petri.’ She pressed the phone to her ear but heard no response. ‘Textbook bullying, in fact.’
Still nothing. His silence infuriated her but she refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing her rant. She looked at her hand, fisted so tight in her lap it was hard to prise open. When she did she saw scarlet crescents where her nails had scored.
‘Very well, Signor Petri. I’ll work for you.’ Her lungs ached as she released the breath crammed in her chest. ‘But you can change the contract to three times the original salary. Ditto with the bonus. Have it in my inbox tomorrow and if it’s satisfactory I’ll sign.’ She paused, trying to control her sharp, shallow breaths.
To her astonishment he didn’t disagree.
‘I’ll see you in New York, Ms Nolan.’
Not if I see you first.
She might be stuck working for him but she had no illusions he’d be part of the project team. He’d be sunning himself in the Bahamas or skiing in Switzerland or whatever the wealthy did when they weren’t harassing ordinary people. Somehow she’d deal with the travel and all those people. She’d do the job, take his money and come back to build her future here as she’d planned.
She’d get through this.
‘Goodbye, Signor Petri.’
‘Not goodbye. Arrivederci, Ms Nolan.’
RAFFA GOT TO the office after a breakfast meeting.
Across the large room he saw an unfamiliar figure—long hair, loose shirt, loose trousers and flat shoes. The clothes were resolutely unfeminine but the body beneath all that unflattering drabness wasn’t. Femininity was there in the way she moved, despite her rigid back and high shoulders.
It had to be Lily Nolan. The area was off-limits to all but his hand-picked team.
She’d been tense on the phone that night too. Uptight and angry, yet that husky, just-awake voice had done things to him no woman had in years.
He frowned at the unwanted memory.
Raffa’s eyes narrowed on the rhythmic swish of hair down her narrow back as she walked away. It all but reached her waist. Not blonde or black or even dark but simply brown. A brown so ordinary and unremarkable it looked uncompromising, as if she spurned most women’s desire to improve on nature with eye-catching colour.
He turned into his private office and took a seat, gesturing for his assistant to do the same. Through the glass walls he saw Lily Nolan talking with someone by the door to the conference room. Her body language radiated stress, right down to the fist clenching at her side.
Had he made a mistake bringing her here? He’d wanted her because of her talents, her often brilliant insights and her professionalism. He knew she’d go the extra mile to meet his needs.
But that night on the phone her obstinacy, the way she challenged him as no one else dared, had piqued his interest. He’d accepted her outrageous terms because every refusal she gave made him more determined to win.
The knowledge he’d acted on a whim had annoyed him ever since. He never allowed himself to be sidetracked. He’d got where he was by grabbing every opportunity to build his wealth and success. Even if some of those opportunities were unpalatable, they’d been necessary. He was never impulsive.
‘How’s our newest staff member fitting in? Any problems?’
‘No, nothing like that.’
Was that a flush on Pete’s boyish face? Raffa felt his eyebrows cinch together. The woman had been here less than a day. Surely she hadn’t seduced his PA already?
‘She’s hit the ground running. She must be jet-lagged but she’s already got acquainted with our set up here. Now she’s meeting the rest of the team.’ Pete swivelled his head towards the conference room, his gaze fixed.
Raffa realised it wasn’t adoration on his assistant’s face but something he couldn’t read.
‘Yet she makes you uncomfortable?’
Pete’s face mottled red. Embarrassment? Lust?
‘Of course not.’ The words tumbled out too quickly. ‘She’s very professional.’
Professional. It sounded like faint praise. Especially since in the past he’d overheard Pete laughing with the woman over a long-distance connection.
‘But?’ Raffa fixed him with a stern gaze. His policy was to remove problems the instant they arose. If this woman disrupted the smoothly oiled workings of his team he’d take action immediately.
Pete shrugged. ‘You know how it is when you know someone only from a distance. You build up a picture in your mind. The reality can be...different.’ He gestured abruptly to the tablet he carried. ‘About the review of the Hawaiian hotel. Will I bring that forward? You’d mentioned a snap inspection to keep them on their toes.’
Raffa surveyed his PA, reading his discomfort. It was probably as Pete said—the deflating reality of the first face-to-face meeting. But Raffa never left anything to chance.
He’d planned to leave the rebellious Australian
