had been left in the capable hands of the small team of people who were employed by him exclusively to handle the project.
He had been updated daily with progress reports. He knew exactly what was going on but emails and conference calls were a poor substitute for face-to-face inspection. If Ms Eleanor Wilson was out there as well, then her presence would certainly add a tantalising piquancy to the trip. But first and foremost, he reasoned, this was about business, and if it was a little unexpected it was no more than a trip he would have done anyway, if at a slightly later date. At any rate, money was money, and he would be interested to see what she made of the resort because that would determine how genuine her ad campaign would eventually be and, if she wasn’t up to scratch, then regrettably she would have to go. Nothing was signed and he was well aware that she knew the implications of that. She had drawn even with the field but hadn’t yet cleared the finishing line.
He was musing over this when he spotted her approaching, dragging a small case behind her and with a capacious bag that could have housed a kitchen sink slung over her shoulder.
Immediately, he stilled and, eyes narrowed, he watched as she walked towards him.
‘Is that it?’ he asked, eyeing the tiny suitcase, which was hardly bigger than a rucksack. ‘You were allowed as much luggage as you wanted.’
Hot and bothered and feeling out of her depth, Ellie wondered whether that question required a reply. She’d had no idea who would be accompanying her on the flight over to the island and had, at first, assumed that there might also be other candidates being taken there on probation. She had been contacted by his secretary and informed of all the necessary details for a seven-day stay on the island. She had come close to looking forward to the working break until, in the chauffeur-driven car that had been dispatched for her, she’d received a call from Niccolo’s very nice secretary who had cheerfully informed her that Niccolo himself would be meeting her at the airport.
‘But he can’t be!’ Ellie had had to stop herself from wailing in despair. ‘How can he spare the time? He could barely spare the time to keep his appointment with me!’
‘Mr Rossi can do as he likes,’ his secretary had said gently. ‘He’s a law unto himself.’
Horror had kicked in fast and the remainder of the drive had been spent in a state of nervous tension because, ever since her unconventional meeting with the man who was a law unto himself, Ellie had had to fight giving in to the insidious temptation to waste time thinking about him. He had quizzed her, and questioned her, and challenged her, and since when was all that part of the job? He was rich and good-looking, so felt that he could do as he pleased even though he had known well enough that she had been unsettled by the way he had overstepped her boundaries.
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