down at the road a dizzying distance below, she watched his sleek red car pull out smoothly into the chaos of Roman traffic. Everyone gave way for him, of course. But not her, Katie determined, firming her jaw. Not that she’d ever get the chance. But then her dreamy self came to the fore and she wondered, if she had looked different—more glamorous, more appealing—would Rigo have taken her to the track with him?
And why should she care? It was time to stop daydreaming and start making plans.
An open ticket home was the best thing, Katie decided, and then the moment this business was concluded she could fly home. Rigo Ruggiero might have consigned her to the pigeonhole marked miscellaneous, along with all the other women who, for reasons of age, or inferior looks, had failed to meet his exacting standards, but even in her dreams she didn’t want to spend any more time than she had to with a man so self-absorbed he’d put a drive around a racetrack ahead of the reading of his stepbrother’s will.
Which naturally accounted for her heart trying to beat its way out of her chest. Who was she trying to fool? Katie wondered as the phone rang again. She looked across the room. Where were the snooty staff she’d had to get past at his office? Had he sacked them all? Surely a man like Rigo Ruggiero had a PA who could sort out his appointments and answer his phone? But if he had, there was no sign of him or her.
The phone continued to peal until finally she gave in and picked it up. ‘Pronto?’
‘Signorina Bannister?’
No. A Hollywood film star, she felt like telling Rigo Ruggiero at that moment. ‘Sì,’ she said instead, forcing an agreeable note into her voice.
‘I feel bad.’
Oh, no! She pulled a face and somehow managed to sound pleasantly surprised at the same time. ‘Oh…?’
‘You should make the most of your time in Rome.’
Really? ‘But I’ll be leaving shortly,’ she pointed out, waiting in vain for the surge of relief those words should bring.
‘Have you booked another flight yet?’
Ah, so he couldn’t wait to get rid of her. ‘I was about to—’
‘Well, don’t. Not until I get back.’
Commands now? Did she work for him? ‘But, Signor Ruggiero, I’m not equipped to stay over—’
‘Not equipped? What’s your problem? Buy whatever you need and charge it to me.’
What? ‘I couldn’t possibly!’ Katie exclaimed with affront—though she did allow her imagination a five-second trolley dash through Rome’s most expensive store with Rigo Ruggiero’s credit card clutched tightly in her hand. ‘I don’t have a hotel.’
‘A hotel? Don’t be ridiculous. I have seven bedrooms.’
Now she really was too shocked to speak.
‘Signorina Bannister? Are you still there?’
‘Yes,’ Katie managed hoarsely.
‘Don’t forget we still have business to conclude, you and I. I expect you there on my return. How hard can it be?’ he added in a more soothing tone. ‘My penthouse has a roof garden accessed through the staircase in the hallway, as well as an outdoor pool with the finest views over Rome you’ll ever see. There’s a resident chef on call at the press of a button, and an entertainment centre with a gym attached to the spa. Use the place like your own. And don’t forget—be there when I return. Oh, and in the meantime—answer any incoming calls and make a note of them, would you?’
Katie was still choking out words of protest when Rigo cut the line.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE telephone receiver was in serious danger of connecting with the plate-glass window. And she thought she knew everything there was to know about controlling feelings? Did Rigo seriously expect her to remain on standby at his command? He must think everyone lived the same racy billionaire lifestyle he did. Some people had work to do.
Yes…like answering his phone, Katie concluded as it rang again. Glaring at the receiver, she walked over to the cradle, pressed a few buttons and switched it to record. Now she could take stock. She could fret all she liked, but she was going to miss her plane, meaning she would have to stay another night in Rome. But not here. Not with Rigo Ruggiero. Not in a million years.
She didn’t want to panic anyone, so her first call must be to the office. She would give them a carefully edited version of events. That done, she would book into a reasonably priced hotel—if she could find such a thing in Rome. Then she must do some shopping—toiletries and nightclothes, if nothing else. And if Rigo Ruggiero wanted to hear the reading of his stepbrother’s will and receive the package she had brought with her, he could damn well come and find her.
Katie booked into a respectable hotel, taking a compact room on the fourth floor with a view of the air-conditioning units. But she had everything she needed: a clean bed and a functioning bathroom, as well as a desk, an easy chair and a television. Best of all, there were quiet spaces in the lobby where she could meet up with Rigo when he found her. She was confident he would find her; that was what men like him were good at.
And now what?
She had paced the three strides by six it took to mark out the floor of her room, and was left facing the fact that she was alone in the raciest and most fashionable city on earth…a city she longed to explore. So, she could sit here in her hotel room, or be really adventurous and sit in the lobby.
She could always watch TV…
In Rome?
What about her shopping? There had to be a chain store close to the hotel.
Katie asked the concierge, who directed her to the Via del Corso, which he said was one of the busiest shopping streets in town. It certainly was, she discovered, though it bore no resemblance to any shopping street back home. It was so glamorous and buzzy she just stood and stared when she found it, until people jostled her and she was forced to move along.
So now what? Now she was a tourist, and she was enjoying every minute of it. Work seemed a million miles away…
After a moment’s hesitation, she took a deep breath and plunged right in.
To Katie’s surprise she loved every moment of the chaotic bustle, and hearing the lyrical Italian language being spoken all around her more than made up for the mayhem of the crowded streets. She had learned to love Italian at the music conservatoire she had attended, in what seemed to her like another lifetime now. Determined to brush all melancholy thoughts away, she told herself that she would never get another opportunity like this and should be savouring every moment so she could store away the memories to share with the girls in the office.
She began with some serious window shopping, which involved frantically trying to work out how many fantasy purchases she could fit into her fantasy wardrobe, not to mention how much fantasy designer luggage would be required to transport all these fantasy purchases home. But there was one adventure she could afford, Katie realised as she walked along, and that was drinking coffee at a pavement café like a real Roman.
She
