The Bride Fonseca Needs. Эбби ГринЧитать онлайн книгу.
happened to him in weeks. Darcy would meld seamlessly into the background while performing her duties with skill and efficiency. Of that he had no doubt. Her CV was a glowing testament to her abilities.
He picked up the phone to speak to his temp and when she answered said curtly, ‘Send all the other applicants away, Miss Lennox is starting tomorrow.’
He didn’t even bother to reiterate the two-week trial caveat, so confident was he that he’d made the right decision.
Three months later
‘Darcy, get in here—now!’
Darcy rolled her eyes at the bellowed order and got up from behind her desk, smoothing down her skirt as she did so. When she walked into Max’s office and saw him pacing back and forth behind his desk she cursed the little jolt she always got in her solar plexus when she looked at him.
Virile, masculine energy crackled in the air around him. She put her uncomfortable reaction down to the fact that any being with a pulse would be incapable of not responding to his charisma.
He turned and locked that dark golden gaze onto her and snapped out, ‘Well? Don’t just stand there—come in.’
Darcy had learnt that the way to deal with Max Fonseca Roselli was to treat him like an arrogant thoroughbred stallion. With the utmost respect and caution and a healthy dollop of firm-handedness.
‘There is no need to shout,’ she said calmly. ‘I’m right outside your door.’
She came in and perched on the chair on the other side of his desk and looked at him, awaiting instruction. She had to admit that, while his manners could do with finessing, working for Max was the most exhilarating experience of her life. It was a challenge just to keep up with his quicksilver intellect, and she’d already learnt more from him than she had in all of her previous jobs combined.
Shortly after starting to work for him he’d installed her in a luxurious flat near the office at a ridiculously low rent. He’d waved her protests away, saying, ‘I don’t need to be worrying about you living in a bad area, and I will require you to be available to work out of hours sometimes, so it’s for my convenience as much as yours.’
That had shut Darcy up. He was putting her there so she was more accessible to him—not out of any sense of concern because she was on her own in a city she didn’t know as well as she might, considering her mother’s Italian background. Still, she couldn’t complain, and had enjoyed the chance to have a central base from which to explore Rome.
Max had been true to his word. She’d found herself working late plenty of evenings and on some Saturdays for half the day. His work ethic was intimidating, to say the least.
He rapped out now, ‘What was Montgomery’s response?’
Darcy didn’t have to consult her notes. ‘He wants you to meet him for dinner when he’s here with his wife next week.’
Max’s face hardened. ‘Damn him. I’d bet money that the wily old man is enjoying every moment of drawing this out for as long as possible.’
Watching his hands, splayed on his slim hips, Darcy found it hard to focus for a second, but she forced her gaze back up and had to acknowledge that this was unusual. Most people Max dealt with knew better than to refuse him what he wanted.
His mouth was tight as he spoke almost to himself. ‘Montgomery doesn’t think I’m suitable to take control of his hedge fund. I’m an unknown, I don’t come with a blue-blooded background, but worst of all, in his eyes, I’m not respectably married.’
No, you certainly are not, Darcy observed frigidly to herself, thinking of the recent weekend Max had spent in the Middle East, visiting his exotically beautiful lover, a high-profile supermodel. A little churlishly Darcy imagined them having lots of exotically beautiful babies together, with tawny eyes, dark hair and long legs.
‘Darcy.’
She flushed, caught out. Surely working with someone every day should inure you to his presence? Not make it worse?
‘It’s just dinner, Max, not a test,’ she pointed out calmly.
He paced back and forth, which threatened Darcy’s focus again, but she kept her eyeline resolutely up.
‘Of course it’s a test,’ he said now, irritably. ‘Why do you think he wants me to meet his wife?’
‘Maybe he just wants to get to know you better? After all, he’s potentially asking you to manage one of the oldest and most illustrious fortunes in Europe and his family’s legacy.’
Max snorted. ‘Montgomery will have already deemed me suitable or unsuitable—a man like that has nothing left to do in life except amuse himself and play people off each other like pawns.’
He raked a hand through unruly hair, a familiar gesture by now, and Darcy felt slightly breathless for a moment. And then, angry at her reaction to him, she said with not a little exasperation, ‘So take...’ She stopped for a moment, wondering how best to describe his mistress and settled for the most diplomatic option. ‘Take Noor to dinner and persuade Montgomery that you’re in a settled relationship.’
Max’s expression turned horrified. ‘Take Noor al-Fasari to dinner with Montgomery? Are you mad?’
Darcy frowned, and didn’t like the way something inside her jumped a little at seeing Max’s reaction to her suggestion. ‘Why not? She’s your lover, and she’s beautiful, accomplished—’
Max waved a hand, cutting Darcy off. ‘She’s spoilt, petulant, avaricious—and in any case she’s no longer my lover.’
Darcy had to battle to keep her face expressionless as this little bombshell hit. Evidently the papers hadn’t yet picked up on this nugget of information, and he certainly didn’t confide his innermost secrets to her.
She looked at Max as guilelessly as she could. ‘That’s a pity. She sounds positively delightful.’
He made that dismissive snorting sound again and said, with a distinct edge to his voice, ‘I choose my lovers for myriad reasons, Darcy, not one of which I’ve ever considered is because they’re delightful.’
No, he chose them because they were the most beautiful women in the world, and because he could have whoever he wanted.
For a moment Darcy couldn’t look away from Max’s gaze, caught by something inexplicable, and she felt heat start to climb up her body. And then his phone rang. She broke the intense, unsettling eye contact and stretched across to answer it, then pressed the ‘hold’ button.
‘It’s the Sultan of Al-Omar.’
Max reached for the phone. ‘I’ll take it.’
Darcy stood up with not a little sense of relief and walked out, aware of Max’s deep voice as he greeted his friend and one of his most important clients.
When she closed the door behind her she leaned back against it for a moment. What had that look been about? She’d caught Max staring at her a few times lately, with something unreadable in his expression, and each time it had made her silly pulse speed up.
She gritted her jaw as she sat down behind her desk and cursed herself for a fool if she thought for a second that Max ever looked at her with anything more than professional interest.
It wasn’t as if she even wanted him to look at her with anything more than professional interest. She was not about to jeopardise the best job of her career by mooning about after him like she had at school, when she’d been in the throes of a very embarrassing pubescent crush.
* * *
Max finished his call with his friend and stood up to look out of his office window, feeling restless. The window framed an impressive view of Rome’s ancient ruins—something that usually soothed him with its timelessness. But not right now.
Sultan