Her Amazing Boss!. Barbara McMahonЧитать онлайн книгу.
for Ms. Valesquez. When she was on the line, Amalia clicked her over to Stefano’s phone. She could finish the report if she had no more interruptions before close of business.
Just before five, she finished the last set and put them in the envelopes for different staff members. That was a major project completed. The rest of the week should be a breeze—or as much as it ever was working for Stefano Vicente. She liked her job well enough; she found it interesting and fulfilling. Which was good, since she’d likely be at it for another four or five years. Once her brother was out of college and on his own, she’d give a thought to returning to school to work for her own degree—interrupted barely months after she’d started university by the death of her parents.
Amalia’s goal remained to become a graphic designer—working with multinational corporations to develop and maintain Web pages. She loved playing around on computers. She’d streamlined many of the office functions through technology. But it wasn’t enough to satisfy her. She wanted new horizons. She dabbled in Web design for friends, but looked for more challenges and a monetary reward for her work.
When she’d expressed that interest to Stefano a couple of years ago, asking if she could switch divisions, he’d refused. He hadn’t wanted to break in another new PA. Maybe she did her job too well, but it wasn’t in her to do less than her best.
At least she had a good position that enabled them to live in a modest flat. After their parents were killed, there had been more debt than assets. Once everything had been sold, there was nothing left for extras. Amalia could still remember the panic she felt knowing that Jose depended entirely on her. She’d only been nineteen, Jose a mere eight. She’d floundered those first couple of years until she began to work for this firm.
Promotions had moved her up, and her current job now paid enough to save a bit for college for her younger brother. One more year of public school and he’d be off to university. He wanted to be a physicist. He’d probably be over the moon with a chance to ride in a hot air balloon. She dare not tell him; he’d badger her forever to take advantage of the opportunity.
She shut off her computer, tidied her desk and donned her serviceable raincoat. She was already planning the evening meal she’d prepare for herself and Jose.
Stefano stepped into her office.
“I need you to renew my order of weather schedules first thing in the morning.” He handed her a piece of paper on which he’d written down the Internet addresses. One was from a local weather forecasting service in Barcelona. The other two covered other areas, including the eastern part of Spain and parts of southern France.
She nodded. “Anything else?”
“Not right now. I’ve got to prepare for the flight, though. There’s more to it this time than casual fun. I can’t wait to see Rafael’s face in front of the BBA giving me the winning check.”
“The entire plan sounds scary,” she murmured. She had gone to the Barcelona Balloon Festival the first time it had been held after she joined the firm. She hadn’t stayed after the first wave of balloons lifted into the air. The small wicker baskets were dwarfed by the huge balloons, dangling by incredibly thin ropes that connected the basket to the balloon. Imagine rising above the earth dependent solely on hot air in a large nylon bag. She shuddered just thinking about it. The entire venture looked precarious and dangerous. She preferred to keep her feet on terra firma.
“It’s perfectly safe and a lot of fun. There’s nothing like soaring a couple of thousand feet above the earth. Watching the landscape drift by below, going where the wind takes you.”
“Unless you get tangled in power lines and get zapped, or go down in the Med and drown before rescue, or—” Or just fall from the basket and splat on the ground. She shook her head at the horrible image that popped into her mind.
“That happens, like, once in a lifetime.” Stefano laughed.
“It could be your lifetime, or the end of it!”
“No, I don’t think so. I haven’t had even so much as a near miss in all the years I’ve been doing this. Anyway, you’re off the hook. Teresa Valesquez is delighted to be going with Rafael. I think she expects a ring on her finger by the end of the trip. Doubt he’ll ask, though, because he hasn’t so far. He strikes me as the perpetual playboy bachelor who’s having far too much fun to get tied down. See you in the morning,” he added, turning and reentering his office.
She grabbed her umbrella, wondering if that or her raincoat would be much protection against the deluge that continued.
Stepping outside a few moments later, Amalia paused beneath the building’s portico debating whether or not to dash to the bus stop without her umbrella raised and hope she didn’t become soaked, or give in to the inevitable and use the umbrella until the wind turned it inside out.
A sleek black sports car drew to a stop at the curb in front of her. The passenger window slid down.
“Need a lift?”
She leaned over a bit to peer in. Rafael Sandoval looked back at her.
“Get in, I’ll drive you home,” he ordered.
Normally Amalia would object to his imperious tone, but she was pragmatic enough to appreciate a ride in the storm. She quickly got into the car as the window slid up.
“Why?” she asked as she fastened her seat belt.
“To get to know you, of course.”
As the car pulled back into traffic, Amalia sighed softly. The luxurious leather interior even smelled like wealth. The seat cushioned her lovingly, and she surreptitiously rubbed her fingers against its softness. “There’s no need. Stefano got Teresa Valesquez to agree to accompany you on the balloon race. I won’t be going.”
Would he let her off at the next corner now that there was no need to become better acquainted?
“Damn, I don’t know which is worse, you or Teresa,” he said, moving to another lane as traffic began to get heavy.
“Thanks a lot,” she murmured, not feeling kindly toward the man. She fervently hoped he lost the race to her boss just to take him down a peg or two!
“They say ‘better the devil you know,’ but I’m not so sure. I do know Teresa and the spin she’s sure to put on this. You’re an unknown, but at least I know you have no ulterior motive.”
“I’m not going, so there’s no more to say,” Amalia said firmly.
“Still, I’m not dumping you in the rain. Where to?”
She lived in an older section of town, with lots of flats and small markets, winding streets and little parking. Nothing like the palatial home he must live in surrounded by gardens and giving a stupendous view of the city and the Med.
“It’s off Via Estrada,” she said.
“So what’s Vicente’s game plan?” he asked a moment later, easily driving in the rainy evening twilight.
“He wants to win,” Amalia pointed out dryly.
“So do I,” Rafael said.
“He thinks you’ll be distracted by Ms. Valesquez and that will give him the edge,” she said, hoping to startle him.
Rafael glanced at her a second. “Honest. Hmm … unusual.”
“Then you must hang out with the wrong people,” she snapped. First he considered she would sabotage his race, now he seemed surprised to find her an honest person. The nerve of the man! She clutched her purse tighter, hoping she could hold on to her temper until she reached home.
“Touchy, too. I bet there’s temper in there somewhere,” he mocked. “But being the perfect little personal assistant to Vicente, I’m sure you’ve damped that down a lot.”
She wanted to say something pithy to knock him off his high horse, but nothing came to mind. She hated that!