felt his shoulders loosen at the thought of being free of this alarming obsession he’d developed—and over someone so unprepossessing. He’d been with women, many women, who were far more attractive and alluring than Mia James, with her straight hair and English schoolgirl looks. What was it about her that affected him so much, drove him to such irritating distraction?
It didn’t matter. His involvement with Mia James was thankfully going to come to an end. He was just reaching for the phone to make the first call when a knock sounded on the door.
‘Yes?’ he barked.
‘It’s Miss… Mia. May I speak to you?’
After a second’s hesitation he put the phone down. ‘Come in.’
She slipped into the office, her blue eyes looking crystal-bright as she met his gaze, a hint of determined challenge to the tilt of her chin.
‘I wanted to speak to you.’
‘About?’
She angled her chin a bit higher. ‘I’d like to request a transfer.’
Shock rooted him to the spot, the phone dangling from his hand. ‘A what?’
‘A transfer. I don’t think it is prudent for us to work together. You mentioned that you found positions for your employees when possible, so I’m asking for you to find me one.’ Her eyes blazed as they met his. ‘Somewhere preferably not in London.’
She wanted to be shot of him, Alessandro realised dazedly. Just as he wanted to be shot of her…so why did the thought rankle so much?
‘Where is this coming from?’ he asked, even though he knew. Of course he knew.
‘Where do you think?’ she returned sharply. ‘You mentioned my usefulness as your PA would only be for so long.’
‘But it’s not finished yet,’ he returned, surprised and a bit alarmed by his own annoyance. He’d been planning this very thing, and yet absurdly he resented her suggesting it first.
‘I think it is finished,’ Mia answered levelly, her tone brooking no disagreement. And, despite the instinctive, gut-level reaction that he had to argue with her, even to insist that she stay, Alessandro held his tongue. Mia wanted what he wanted. Surely he wasn’t so pig-headed as to resist simply because it was now her idea rather than his?
‘There are two possibilities, actually,’ he said after a moment. ‘I was looking into them myself, for this very eventuality.’
‘I’m sure you were,’ Mia returned dryly and Alessandro had the uncomfortable feeling she’d known what he’d been thinking, and had simply pre-empted him. ‘The first is as personal assistant to the CEO of the Arras Hotel Group, based in Los Angeles,’ he said. ‘It’s a property company I acquired two years ago, running luxury hotels on America’s west coast.’
‘Los Angeles…’ She nodded slowly. ‘And the other?’
‘Personal assistant to the CEO of a tech company in Sweden. Or, if you prefer, you can take the standard redundancy package. You’ll find I’m very generous.’
‘I’m sure.’
‘I’ll get you the details of both positions.’ He leaned down to his laptop, and a few clicks later he’d printed it all out and handed Mia the pages.
She took them calmly, scanning them with a cool composure that somehow rattled him.
‘Both positions come with accommodation provided, and the salary is fifty percent higher than yours was here,’ he felt compelled to point out.
‘And I can start immediately?’
She couldn’t wait to leave, could she? ‘If you like. Of course, you can have some time to pack up and arrange your travel. All paid for, naturally.’
‘Naturally.’ She glanced at the paper again. ‘I choose Los Angeles,’ she said firmly, although underneath that conviction he heard a tremble to her voice that unnerved him. He almost told her that she didn’t need to do this, but of course she did. If not now, then next week, or the week after that. Better for her to feel it was on her terms.
‘I’m sure you’ll be very happy there,’ he said as equably as he could manage. ‘Good luck with your move.’
She stared at him for a moment, her lips twisting and then tightening. ‘I’ll clear my desk, then,’ she said, which made it sound as if she’d been fired.
‘You don’t have to do—’ Alessandro began, and she gave him a piercing look.
‘I think it’s better this way, don’t you?’
Yes, he did. Of course he did. Even if he didn’t feel like it just then. ‘Enjoy LA,’ he said stiffly, and she gave him one last accusing look before she nodded and walked out of the room.
THREE WEEKS AFTER she’d left Alessandro Costa, Dillard Investments, and her home country, Mia came home from work, unlocking the door to her sumptuous apartment in Santa Monica, one of Los Angeles’ best neighbourhoods, with a tired sigh as she kicked off her heels.
Choosing to transfer workplaces had been the only way she’d known how to salvage what was left of her pride as well as her working life. She hadn’t been able to stand working with Alessandro, and in any case she’d sensed that he would have her transferred or even fired if she’d waited long enough; she was no longer useful in the way he required. In fact, she’d become rather inconvenient. Choosing it herself first had felt like the best way to take control.
Since she’d left she’d heard through the grapevine that at least half of Dillard’s employees had been made redundant with packages as generous as hers; the other half had been offered positions within Alessandro’s portfolio of companies. He wasn’t the ruthless tycoon she’d thought he was, at least not in that regard.
It was just in his personal relationships where he was truly ruthless. Because no matter how elegant her apartment, how cushy her job, Mia couldn’t escape the feeling that Alessandro had wanted her gone, more even than she’d wanted to go. She hadn’t seen him since the day she’d walked out of her office, which was how she’d wanted it—and how Alessandro had seemed to want it, as well.
Sighing, she changed out of her work clothes into more comfy ones, anticipating another evening in front of the TV. She’d been invited out for drinks with some of her colleagues, but for the last few days Mia had been feeling a bit off, tired and nauseous. She hoped she wasn’t coming down with the stomach flu, and decided that a good night’s sleep, not to mention a healthy dose of Netflix, would knock whatever she was fighting off on its head.
The next morning she woke up with her stomach roiling, and she barely made it to the toilet in time before it emptied its contents. She called in sick, although by the afternoon she was feeling better again. When the same thing happened the next day, and then the next day after that, realisation sliced through her, as sharp as a knife, and just as shockingly painful, even though she’d known all along it had been
