with asparagus in a brandy cream sauce. ‘I think the pasta first,’ she said, transferring the first dish to a vacant spot on his desk.
He ignored her and strode to the door, flinging it open. ‘Ms Hancock!’ he shouted. ‘Ms Hancock!’
‘I think you’ll find she’s in the copy room. I didn’t want your lunch to get cold in the meantime.’
He turned then. Without looking up, Opal felt it like a blast from a furnace. ‘Who the hell are you?’
Fortified with a deep gulp of air, she finally lifted her eyes to face him and straight away wished she hadn’t. It was Domenic all right. Those dark eyes, the strong jaw. She should have been ready. And yet—the picture torn from a magazine was just a mere facsimile of the man who stood before her. Nothing in those photos revealed the power, the sheer presence of the man, the masculine physicality he projected.
The heat!
Under her silk suit her skin prickled and firmed. She swallowed involuntarily, tasted fear and kicked up her chin in defiance. She had a job to do. And he was just a man, after all. A playboy to boot—the very worst kind of man.
She battled to remind herself of that as she searched for the words that should have fallen off her tongue much more easily.
‘Opal Clemenger.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘Thank you for finding the time to see me. I appreciate you’re very busy.’
He snorted and pulled the door open wide.
‘I’m not finding the time to see you. I said you could come back in two weeks. Better still, not at all.’ He gestured to the open door with his free hand. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.’
‘But I haven’t had a chance to tell you my proposal yet.’
‘Does it occur to you, Ms Clemenger, that may be because I’m not interested?’
She made no move towards the door and she could feel the anger rising in the man facing her. ‘Your pasta is getting cold.’
‘Then the sooner you remove yourself, the sooner I can eat.’
‘We can talk while you have lunch.’
‘I was going to work while I had lunch.’
‘That’s not healthy.’
‘Arguing with women who don’t know when they’ve outstayed their welcome is not healthy. Leave. Now.’
‘Not until you hear what I have to offer.’
‘Or do I have to make you?’ His head tilted, and his lips curled, as if he was speculating on whether he’d have to, and her fear cranked up a notch. If he so much as touched her…
‘I have an opportunity for you,’ the words spilt out, before she could think too far along that disturbing path, ‘a chance to give the Silvers hotel chain the edge it’s looking for—the edge it needs.’
‘I see I’m going to have to make you.’ He moved away from the door, each step bringing him closer. Instinctively she felt herself draw back. She hadn’t been prepared for his height, nor for his sheer animal power. Right at that moment she felt more like an animal of prey than the owner and CEO of Australia’s most prestigious boutique hotel chain, with Domenic the hunter, drawing ever closer, ever more threatening.
She knew she was speaking fast. But she had to get through to him. Had to make an impression. Before the opportunity was lost to her forever.
‘Something to lift Silvers beyond this five-star mediocrity…’
He stopped, not two paces from her, and scoffed. ‘Five-star what?’
She seemed to grow a good inch taller, though his six-foot-two frame still cleared hers by six inches or so, and fire flickered in the depths of her blue-green eyes. The corners of her mouth tweaked up in such a way that told him she thought she’d just scored some kind of point.
She had a nerve, this woman. Somehow managing to get past his assistant, forcing her way into his office and accusing his business of mediocrity. Nerve, or stupidity. Either way, she was leaving.
‘Mediocrity, Mr Silvagni. Five-star used to mean something special. Now it just means more of the same. People don’t want that. People want an experience. People want to feel special.’
‘Thank you, Ms Clemenger, for your astute observations. But if I need to have my business analysed, I’m sure I can find more qualified people than you to do it.’
‘Is that so? Then if it’s so easy, why are you in Sydney at all? You’d have the resources for an army of analysts to devise the kind of strategies Silvers needs. Surely you’ve got better things to do with your time?’
He bristled, recognising the attempt he’d made to undermine her position had backfired. She’d made it backfire. Ms Clemenger was really starting to get his back up, yet for all that he was curious. Silvers did have a problem. Would it hurt to hear her out? He crossed his arms and rested one hip on the side of the desk.
‘You’ve got five minutes,’ he said. ‘Start talking.’
For a few seconds she seemed at a loss for words and for that he was grateful. For once he didn’t have to concentrate on her words, and he had a chance to focus on the forthright Ms Clemenger herself.
She wasn’t half the challenge to look at as she was to listen to. Brown hair. No, not quite brown. More like the colour of warm syrup. Full, lush mouth. Clear, almost translucent skin, with eyes that knew both intelligence and emotion. He’d noticed the way they’d widened when she’d finally raised her eyes to meet his, the flare of recognition and something else—shock or fear? But if she’d been scared, still she hadn’t backed off. He liked that.
His appraisal moved down.
Her cobalt-blue suit fitted her well enough, yet hinted at curves not quite revealed, and maybe, just maybe, if she sat down in the chair behind her that skirt might just ride up enough for him to tell if the rest of her long legs were as shapely as those calves suggested.
She remained standing.
‘Mr Silvagni.’
He dragged his attention back from speculation about her legs to her mouth—and those lips.
‘Domenic, please.’
She looked at him and for a moment he thought she was going to fight about even that. Then she nodded slightly.
‘Domenic,’ she said softly, as if testing. He liked the way she said his name. Her voice was warm and mellow and somehow her slight yet unmistakable Australian accent helped to smooth the rhythm of the syllables. She had the kind of voice you wouldn’t mind waking up to—now the desperation factor had gone from it.
‘Like other major hotel chains in Australia and, indeed, even worldwide, the Silvers chain is suffering from a downturn in occupancy rates. There just isn’t the volume of travellers to fill the hotels. The pie has shrunk and the pieces are smaller. Marketing might increase one chain’s share over another, but it’s a short-term gain and can be easily lost
