Nolan’s long hair framed an oval face that should have been, at best, ordinary. Brown eyes, a mouth neither thin-lipped nor lush, an unremarkable nose. Beautiful she wasn’t, but she might have been pretty if it weren’t for the wide swathe of tight, shiny skin that ran from her temple down one cheek to her jaw.
Scars faded with time. How long had she had this? The colour wasn’t livid and she’d had plastic surgery. It must have been a hell of a sight before that.
Not a knife wound. He’d seen enough in his youth to realise no knife marked like this.
A burn? Some other trauma?
‘Signor Petri.’ That familiar voice stirred something unaccustomed that for a heartbeat distracted him.
He circled the table, arm extended.
She hesitated then pushed her chair back to stand. Her long, buttoned-up shirt fell loose around her slim frame. Again her choice of clothes hit him. A deliberate attempt not to fit in? To make the point she was here under sufferance? As if he cared what his staff wore so long as they did their work.
Her hand clasped his. Smooth and cool and small.
She just topped his shoulder in her flat shoes, tilting her head to meet his eyes. At the movement her hair slid back off her cheek, revealing more of that shiny, scarred flesh. But it wasn’t the blemish that drew his attention, it was the bright challenge in her eyes.
‘I believe this is where I’m supposed to say it’s a pleasure to meet you, Signor Petri.’
A gasp from the other side of the room reminded him of the staff still there.
Raffa held her hand in an easy grasp, not ready to let go.
‘That’s right,’ he murmured, bestowing a small smile. He’d won their little contest of wills and could afford to be gracious.
Yet he saw no softening in that stern expression, no easing in her rigidity. Not even a hint of response in those serious eyes.
Surprise flickered. It was rare to find someone genuinely unresponsive to his charm.
Lily Nolan grew more interesting by the moment.
‘It’s definitely a pleasure to meet you, Lily.’ He widened his smile just a fraction, lingering on her name. ‘I’ve been looking forward to having you here as part of the team.’
Silence for just a moment too long. ‘So I gather, since you went to such lengths to get me here.’
Another muffled sound came from nearby but Raffa didn’t turn. He didn’t care what anyone thought.
‘You were certainly elusive.’
He waited, expecting her to pull her hand from his. Instead she stood, unmoving but for the fine vibration coursing from her hand to his. She was wound up tight, bottling in strong emotion.
Yet her eyes met his directly, nothing but challenge to be read there.
This woman would make a hell of a poker player. She betrayed no hint of weakness or discomfort.
His gaze zeroed in on a minuscule movement at the corner of her mouth. For a moment he wondered if it could be the scar pulling at her mouth, till he remembered there’d been no distortion of her lips when she spoke. The tiny flicker of movement was what then? Her biting her cheek?
‘Did you want me for something now?’ She looked pointedly at their joined hands and Raffa felt amusement bubble. She was so patently determined to be unimpressed. So ostentatiously unaffected by his looks or position. Perversely he liked it.
How long since he’d done anything, gone anywhere, and been treated like an average Joe?
It was a novelty he hadn’t known he craved till a slip of a woman with muddy brown eyes looked at him as if he wasn’t anything special.
‘As a matter of fact, now is the perfect time to brief you in more detail about my expectations.’ He turned and nodded to Pete. Moments later his stalwart PA had emptied the room and closed the door on them.
If Lily Nolan was intimidated she didn’t show it. Her hand lay unresisting in his, as if making the point his touch was immaterial to her.
Who was this woman? She’d intrigued him from their first contact.
Raffa’s world and the people in it were predictable. Mostly they wanted something from him—reflected fame, an ‘in’ to the best circles, business opportunities, sex. Everyone wanted something.
Except this woman who didn’t want him at all.
Was that why she fascinated him? Because he’d grown bored?
Raffa released his hold. He had more significant things to concentrate on than the novelty of an employee who resented his authority.
Yet he admired the way she slowly slid her hand away, not snatching it, though he’d touched her far too long. Nor did she move back, but stood, taking stock as he did.
His eyes dipped to her loose, unattractive clothing. She’d gone too far with the dressing down, the not being just another cog in his corporate wheel.
Unless she dressed that way because the scar on her face wasn’t the only one. Did she have other injuries that made it uncomfortable to wear fitted clothes? The thought stirred discomfort.
Because he’d brought her here against her wishes? The idea was ludicrous. Whatever her problems, he wasn’t responsible for them. He employed her at an outrageously high salary and hitherto unheard of bonuses.
‘Take a seat.’ He gestured to the chair she’d vacated and sank into one beside it. He was determined to understand this woman. Then he could push her from his thoughts and get on with business.
She sat watching him, feet flat on the floor, hands clasped loosely. For all the world as if he, not she, was the one whose work had to impress.
Raffa felt his lips twitch. If ever he needed another negotiator on his acquisitions team he could do far worse than Lily Nolan.
* * *
Lily read that quirk of his sculpted lips and knew she amused him.
An icicle of frozen rage jabbed her side. She wanted to cry out but kept her mouth closed and her face calm. She’d weathered enough pity, horror, revulsion and sympathy to last a lifetime. A self-important tycoon who laughed at her because she wasn’t a perfectly tailored, respectful employee hardly mattered.
Or was he amused by how unfeminine she looked? His inspection had raked her from head to toe.
Remarkably, though he’d surveyed her damaged face his gaze hadn’t lingered longer there than anywhere else. Almost as if her scar were no more significant than the shape of her nose or the comfy shoes she’d grabbed rather than teeter in the unaccustomed heels she’d bought in a moment of weakness. As if a pair of shoes would transform her into just another office worker!
Not with her face.
Was that what amused him? The difference between his bronzed
