Italian Boss, Ruthless Revenge. Carol MarinelliЧитать онлайн книгу.
hand the phone over when instinct kicked in somehow. The dash of bitters in the woman’s voice was telling Caitlyn that perhaps this was one call Lazzaro might be glad to miss, so instead of handing him the receiver, she grabbed a pen and scribbled down the woman’s name. Lucy.
She even managed a little smile when he grimaced and shook his head while Lucy vented her spleen down the phone.
‘Of course,’ Caitlyn said sweetly. ‘I’ll be sure to let him know.’ Replacing the receiver, she turned to her very soon to be ex-boss. ‘You’re a bastard!’
‘Thank you for passing it on.’
‘And she knows you’re there and just refusing to talk to her.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Er, that was pretty much it,’ Caitlyn lied. Well, she was hardly going to tell him that ‘just because he’s fabulous in bed, it doesn’t make up for the way he’s treated me’. Though she did give him a rather edited version of the teary conclusion to the call. ‘She’d like you to call her—any time,’ Caitlyn emphasised. ‘Any time at all! So…’ Noticing his empty hands, she raised her eyebrows. ‘Where are the forms?’
‘In a filing cabinet.’ He gave an apologetic grimace. ‘Only I’m not sure which one…but I will write you a cheque now…’
‘A cheque’s not much good to me at this time on a Friday.’ She didn’t want to stay another second. Another second and she’d start crying; another second and she’d crumple. The brave façade she was wearing so well was seriously falling apart—the hem unravelling along with the seams—so she hitched her bag on her shoulder and headed for the door. ‘Just have it all posted to me on Monday.’
‘Caitlyn.’ His strong voice summoned her back, but she kept on walking. ‘Just listen to me for a moment. What if I were to offer you a job as my personal assistant?’
Now, that was enough to stop her in her tracks—only not enough to make her turn around.
‘Me?’
Her hand paused as it reached for the handle and Lazzaro spoke on. ‘Clearly I need someone, and you have no idea of some of the poor efforts the agency has sent. You handled that call well, you are qualified, and you are clearly…’ he gave a slightly uncomfortable cough ‘…discreet…’
‘I can’t.’
The words shot out on instinct—her dream job, everything that she’d wished for coming true, and the money, oh, God, the money would make such a difference. Only she couldn’t do it—just couldn’t do it. And bitter, so bitter, was her regret.
‘I can’t face seeing Malvolio again.’ Her voice was shrill, and still she didn’t turn around. Her hand was on the door now, but not to open it, more for support. The horrors of the day were finally catching up, the feelings she had denied, had willed herself not to examine until she was safely alone, were making searing contact with her brain now. ‘I don’t think I could stand to be…’
Silence filled the room. Only it wasn’t peaceful. It was that horrible silence of a strangled sob, the thud of reality, that moment when it all catches up and there’s nothing that can be done to push it back down—when you can’t keep smiling as if you’re stupid, when you can’t pretend that you don’t care and that it didn’t really matter that filthy hands had dirtied your life. Yes—in a while she’d no doubt be able to shrug it off; in a while she’d probably put it all into perspective and apportion the correct blame. In a while it wouldn’t matter as much as it mattered now.
But right now it mattered.
And it mattered to Lazzaro too.
Seeing her convulse—seeing this proud, strong woman wilt for a second—he found it mattered enough to propel him from his desk, to literally peel her trembling body from the door, to turn her around to face him and hold her. Like some mountain rescuer he reached her on the cliff-edge and tried to imbue her with his warmth.
‘I hate him…’ She wasn’t talking to Lazzaro; he knew that. ‘I hate him.’
‘I know.’
‘I’ll be okay soon.’ She gulped, knowing she would, just confirming it to herself. She was embarrassed now at letting him see her cry, but he held her closer as she started to pull away, and after just a second of protest she let him—let him comfort her, let him hold her as the horror slowly receded, her breathing slowing at just listening to the soothing thud of his heart in his chest.
For Lazzaro there was one inevitable end to holding a woman in his arms. The luxury of having a penthouse suite as your office meant there was a bed just a door away, and as he stared down at lips swollen from nibbling teeth and salty tears, instinct told him to kiss her—to soothe her in the way he soothed women best. Only a deeper instinct prevailed.
Morality—which was usually void—crept in. His kiss was surely not what she needed now.
Only it was.
It felt like for ever that she’d dreamt of being in his arms, but now it had happened Caitlyn found out dreams didn’t actually compare. Being held by him was so blissfully consuming, the circle of his arms so strong and safe, that nothing else could invade. She felt the shift in him, felt the shift from comfort to more, and she actually wanted him to kiss her, wanted his hands on her to erase the grubby stains Malvolio’s had left.
But he didn’t. Instead he held her for just a little bit more, held her close as she assimilated all that had taken place and put it into some sort of order, and when finally he let her go, when finally she could stand alone again, the world was certainly a nicer place than the one she’d left just moments ago.
‘Malvolio manages the housekeeping staff. He’s rarely in the office and I’m rarely here. The job would involve a lot of travel…’ His voice was low, his gaze direct as he told her he hadn’t changed his mind.
‘But even so…’ Caitlyn protested. ‘I’d still have to see him sometimes…’ Again she shook her head, but she wasn’t so certain now. Lazzaro believed her. Lazzaro knew. And he would, she was sure, sort it.
That thought was confirmed when Lazzaro spoke next. ‘He will not trouble you at all—I will go and see him and make very sure of it. You do not have to leave.’
‘I haven’t got any experience…’ She was being offered her dream job, a fast-track to what would normally take years to achieve, and even if it was foolhardy to show how woefully inadequate she was for such an esteemed position, really she had no choice.
‘You haven’t picked up any bad habits, then.’ For the first time today she saw him smile, then he gestured to the desk. ‘Sit down.’
Formality was welcome.
Formality she could actually deal with.
So she listened as he took her through her new role, blinking at the description of international flights and luxury hotels that would now pepper her existence, at a salary that made her eyes widen, and at the prospect of a life, as Lazzaro strongly pointed out, that would be basically put on hold to accommodate his.
‘My time is valuable,’ Lazzaro said, and she nodded. ‘Take today—I should not be going to Admin to get forms, and nor will you be able to. That is why you too will have an assistant. My former PA has a list of names somewhere, of people who can be put through to me without question, people who first you check and people who, like Lucy, you will have to deal with.’ He gave a tight smile. ‘At times your work will be menial, and at times it will be downright boring—such as sitting in a car waiting for me. At other times the stress and demands will be intense. Each morning we will go through my day—each week we will plan my schedule. For example, in a couple of weeks we will fly to Rome—’
‘I don’t speak Italian…’
‘Lucky for you then, that nearly all my staff in Rome speak excellent English… Still, if you