accepted and valued. Till she overheard them discussing how letting her hang out with them made people see them as sympathetic and even prettier than they were.
Lily shoved the memories away, drawing back her shoulders, imagining strength streaming through her spine and lifted chin. Whatever his game, she was his match. She might not be much to look at but she’d developed a strength of purpose few could equal.
Silence stretched but she refused to fill it. If this was a test of willpower he’d be disappointed.
Eyes the colour of the Pacific Ocean met hers, piercing as if reading her thoughts.
‘You’re settled into your office?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, thank you. Pete showed me around.’
To her horror she’d discovered the floor full, not of little rabbit-hutch cubicles where workers could hide from public view, but of spacious glassed-in offices that reduced noise levels but left everyone on show.
Worse was the fact her office was beside Pete and Raffaele Petri. The idea of working with this man watching her made something shrivel inside.
‘And your accommodation? It’s comfortable?’
Lily nodded. The size and luxury had overwhelmed her, reminding her she was a country girl, out of her depth in sophisticated New York. Fortunately jet lag had got the better of her last night before she’d had a chance to explore properly and feel like too much of a misfit. This morning she’d overslept and had to rush to get ready. All she’d really seen was the sybaritic black marble bathroom and the inside of her suitcase as she hunted for clothes.
‘Yes, thank you. It’s quite sufficient.’
‘Sufficient?’ His mouth kicked up in a smile that did strange things to her pulse, turning it from steady to riotous. It was bad enough when he’d smiled before. He’d looked so compellingly handsome he’d stolen her breath. But this was different—genuine, and more powerful for it.
‘What’s so amusing?’ She sat straighter.
His eyes zeroed in on hers and a fizzle of heat zapped her bones. ‘I’ve never heard my penthouse described as merely sufficient.’
‘YOUR PENTHOUSE?’ LILY couldn’t hide the shock in her voice. ‘I’m staying in your penthouse?’ Her fingers dug at her chair’s leather arms.
‘No other floor has a roof garden or swimming pool.’ He surveyed her as if analysing a curious specimen.
For the second time that day she felt almost like she were blushing.
‘I didn’t open the blinds. It was late and I was jet-lagged and—’ She snapped her mouth shut before she blurted out any more. She’d had a vague impression of a spacious sitting room, of stylish furnishings, but she’d never dreamed...
‘Never mind, you’ll see the roof garden later.’
Lily shook her head. ‘There won’t be a later. I can’t stay there.’
‘But you said the accommodation was perfectly adequate.’ This time his mouth didn’t curl in a smile but she knew he was laughing at her. How could he not be when she was too thick to realise she’d spent the night in a Manhattan penthouse?
‘It’s your home. It wouldn’t be appropriate.’
* * *
Raffa couldn’t imagine any of the women he’d dated turning down an opportunity to move into his apartment, even if just the guest quarters. They’d see it as a stepping stone to more.
He’d known Lily Nolan was different from the moment she picked up the phone and spoke in that sultry midnight voice. It had evoked a fragile tendril of something—not quite arousal, but definite interest.
She continued to pique his interest. She was...refreshing. Intriguing. Not because of her damaged face or appalling clothes. He, of all people, was the last person to judge on looks.
How many years since he’d found any woman interesting?
He leaned closer, registering her subtle shift as she compensated by pressing back into her chair.
Did she dislike men or just him?
The fact he wondered pulled him up short.
He wouldn’t be distracted into musing on Lily Nolan’s likes and dislikes. But he did need to ensure he’d made the right decision, bringing her here. Too much rode on this.
‘If I think the arrangement appropriate then who’s to say otherwise?’
‘Are you perverse with everyone or just me?’ She spoke slowly, enunciating each syllable with clipped precision. ‘I can’t live in your home.’
‘Is it your privacy you’re concerned about? Are you worried I’ll invade your space?’
The paparazzi labelled him a playboy because he wasn’t seen with the same woman twice. No one knew that was due to boredom and a dislike of being the object of any greedy woman’s avarice. These days his reputation for carnal pleasure owed everything to the fantasies of those he hadn’t taken to bed. He hadn’t desired a woman in years.
They always wanted something from him. Always had.
He hated how that made him feel.
Surely Lily Nolan didn’t think he was so desperate he’d sexually harass his staff?
‘The guest wing is separate, with its own entrance. There’s a lock on the door connecting to the rest of the penthouse so you’ll be quite alone.’ In light of experience, he should be worried about her intruding.
Yet she remained silent. Indignation rose.
The sensation made him pause. Raffa couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt it.
Because he always got his own way?
Or because there was little except business that he cared about, including what people thought of him?
‘The arrangement is temporary. My PA had organised accommodation but there was trouble with burst pipes yesterday. The place is badly water damaged.’
‘I could stay at a hotel.’
‘You could, but you said you couldn’t afford that. Something about spending your salary on other things.’
Her eyebrows lifted as if she recognised his curiosity and was surprised by it.
Dannazione! He was surprised by it!
‘You couldn’t have put me up somewhere else?’
‘Because I’m rolling in cash?’ She had a point. It would have been the work of a moment for Pete to make alternative arrangements. But Raffa was already financing her New York stay in style. Besides, having her close meant a chance to satisfy
