Bella's Impossible Boss

by Michelle Douglas

  He turned and left. She swung around at Luigi’s groan. ‘What?’

  He shook his head. ‘I do not think you should keep Mr Dominic waiting, Signorina Bella.’

  She recalled the stern line of Dominic’s mouth and with a nod she set off after him. Did he mean to have a go at her about St Xavier’s? She worried at her bottom lip. She put in long hours at the hotel. She was entitled to a lunch break. What she chose to do on said lunch break was her own concern, right?

  She all but skidded into Dominic’s office. ‘Look, before you say anything,’ she started, ‘I want you to know that the hotel is not funding those St Xavier lunches. I’ve merely offered my services to help out for two lunches a week, that’s all. And I’m not using the hotel’s resources.’ She grimaced. ‘Well, except for those little pastries I took in.’ She lifted her chin. ‘But that was legitimate market research.’ And she hadn’t been able to resist taking the men in a little treat. They had so little to look forward to.

  He pursed his lips. ‘I haven’t asked you in here to talk about the men’s shelter. If you think it’s a charity we should be supporting, I’d urge you to put a proposal together and submit it to me. We have a charity budget for such things.’

  But even as he said the words his shoulders, his back and his jaw all tensed up. She moistened suddenly dry lips. His body language told her he would never support the men’s shelter. She had an awful foreboding that he may never forgive her for what she’d put him through today. ‘Dominic, I want to apologise for earlier and—’

  A hand slashing through the air cut her off. ‘This is what I want to talk to you about.’

  He thrust a sheet of paper at her. She took it and then swallowed. ‘Oh, my revised budget.’

  He folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. He didn’t sit. He didn’t invite her to sit. ‘I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it for a while now.’

  ‘And why haven’t you?’

  She hated his hard, unrelenting tone. She wished they could be having this conversation on any day other than today. Or, if it had to be today, that they’d had it this morning before they’d set off for St Xavier’s.

  She swallowed. ‘Well, I started to bring it up that afternoon Minky went missing, but then everything else went out of my head except for finding her. Then Papa was there and it didn’t seem right to talk shop. One of the reasons I dropped by this morning was to talk about it, but we got side-tracked.’

  ‘There have been abundant opportunities for you to approach me about this.’

  It was true she was making excuses. ‘That stupid kiss!’ she suddenly burst out. ‘It made things awkward. And all of a sudden you were never at the apartment.’

  ‘I have always been available during working hours here in my office!’

  That was true, too. She eyed him uneasily. ‘You can be a nice man sometimes, Dominic, but you can also be a scary boss.’

  His jaw dropped.

  ‘Though I can see now how foolish it has been to put off talking to you about this new budget.’

  ‘That’s not a budget. It’s a fantasy!’

  Each and every one of her muscles locked. He couldn’t mean that. He was just angry with her because of the men’s shelter. Once he cooled down...

  He snatched the budget from her hand and slammed it to his desk. He pointed. ‘What is this particular costing for?’

  She peered to where his finger stabbed the neat whiteness of the printed page. ‘That’s for new tables for the dining room. That interior decorator knew nothing! We need glass table-tops that will take advantage of the ocean setting and reflect it back into the room. The light in the evenings is amazing, spectacular, and—’

  ‘No.’

  She drew back. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘I said, no. You are not getting new tables, Bella.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘You can argue till you’re blue in the face, but I will not budge on this.’

  He pulled a pen from his pocket and drew a line through the item.

  ‘What about this costing? It says chefs. All the staff have already been employed.’

  ‘Ah...’ He couldn’t argue with this. ‘I want to institute French service, you see.’

  He stared at her blankly.

  ‘It means that many of the dishes are finished off by chefs at the tables. It turns the preparation of the food into an event!’ She made a wide gesture with her arms in an attempt to illustrate the drama. ‘Our patrons will love it, but we’d need to hire additional chefs.’

  She had a sudden brainwave. ‘Now, because we need additional room for the chefs and their mobile cooking stations, there will actually be fewer tables in the dining room, so the new tables you’ve scrawled from the budget would—’

  ‘Fewer tables?’ he barked. ‘We’d be serving fewer patrons each night? How is that good business practice?’ he demanded.

  ‘Well, because there’s so much preparation and show involved, that would be reflected in the menu prices.’

  ‘Fewer people paying more money?’

  Her mouth went dry at his expression. All she could manage was a weak, ‘Uh-huh.’

  He snatched up the budget. ‘Follow me.’

  ‘Where?’ She scampered after him.

  ‘To the kitchen. I want Luigi’s input on this.’

  ‘This is all my doing, not Luigi’s.’ She didn’t want to get Luigi into trouble.

  ‘That’s more than obvious.’ He stopped dead to glare at her. ‘He has a better business head on his shoulders than you ever will.’ He set off again. ‘It is he who should’ve been given the restaurant-manager position, not you.’

  The breath punched out of her body. He couldn’t mean that! She tried to swallow her panic as she raced after him again. She had to save her restaurant from his hard, iceman heart.

  ‘Luigi?’ Dominic pushed into the kitchen. Bella was right at his heels. ‘Have all the staff left for the day?’

  Luigi glanced up from his station at the computer. ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Then it’s just Bella, you and me here?’

  Luigi rose. ‘That’s right, Mr Dominic.’

  ‘Good. I have just been going over this revised budget of Bella’s and it is unworkable.’

  ‘It is not!’

  Dominic ignored her. ‘She tells me she wants to use French service in the restaurant.’

  ‘Yes, sir. It is very spectacular. The patrons would enjoy it.’

  ‘But it means higher staffing and equipment costs and we would be serving fewer customers, is that right?’

  Luigi threw Bella an agonised glance. ‘Uh, yes, sir.’

  Dominic lifted the budget. ‘That is unacceptable.’

  Bella gripped her hands together. Her heart hammered in her chest. ‘The French service is vital to our restaurant’s success.’

  Dominic stared at her, his gaze lowering to her lips, before he snapped away and swung back to Luigi. ‘Is that true? If I veto this French service of Bella’s, is the restaurant doomed?’

  Luigi shuffled his feet and tossed her another agonised glance.

  ‘Stop bullying him, Dominic.’

  ‘I am not bullying anyone. I am asking for answers!’

  He had a heart of ice! And he was determined to punish her—for taking him to the men’s shelter; for growing up in the lap of luxury and not appreciating it as she should’ve done; for not making the most of the opportunities she’d been given.

  Perhaps she deserved to be punished. It is he who should’ve been given the restaurant-manager position, not you.

  Stupid. Failure. Fool.

  No! She clenched her hands. She wanted—needed—to create the best restaurant she could. For Papa. She dragged in a breath and tried to rein in her panic. ‘I already know what Luigi will say. He’d say we could use American service instead and all will be well. Not spectacular, but well.’

  ‘And what’s wrong with that?’

  Couldn’t he see? ‘It’s what every other rest
aurant in town uses. We need to stand out and—’

  ‘That’s what was budgeted for previously?’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘Blue in the face,’ he growled. ‘Won’t budge.’

  He got his pen out again and scrawled a line through the budget for new staff and new equipment. Her hands shook. He was ruining her restaurant!

  He flicked the page. ‘And what’s this?’

  She stared to where he pointed. She had to blink a couple of times to clear her vision. ‘That’s the fee for the entertainment in the restaurant on opening night. She’s a famous soul singer.’

  The pulse in Dominic’s jaw twitched. He stared at her in disbelief. ‘And she costs this much?’

  She pushed her hands behind her back to hide the way they shook. ‘She’ll be a real draw-card.’ The pulse in her throat beat so frantically she found it hard to speak and although it felt impossible she managed a smile. ‘She’s also Marco’s favourite singer.’

  ‘She won’t be if he ever saw this bill! Luigi, give me an alternative.’

  No! She stared wildly from one man to the other. This couldn’t be happening. Her lungs constricted until she could barely breathe. Her vision of their brilliant opening night fractured, cracked and dissolved.

  Luigi glanced from one to the other. He shook his head and sighed. ‘They are not in the same league, you understand, but there is a local jazz trio who are very good.’

  ‘Hire them,’ Dominic ordered, slashing a line through that item too with his pen of death. Bella wanted to snatch it from his hand and draw a line through him!

  ‘What is this?’

  Thankfully this time he addressed Luigi because Bella wasn’t sure she had the capacity to speak.

  ‘It’s new artwork for the restaurant.’

  ‘We already have artwork.’ His pen went to work again.

  Bella found her voice. ‘Do you need Luigi any more this afternoon, Dominic?’

  ‘No, I think we’re done.’

  She turned to Luigi. ‘I know you have a parent and teachers’ evening up at Rilla’s school tonight, Luigi. I also know you were in early this morning, so if you wanted to head off that is okay.’

  The words were barely out of her mouth when Luigi snatched up his coat and started to back out the door. ‘Good afternoon, Signorina Bella, Mr Dominic.’

  ‘Good afternoon, Luigi,’ she called after him. Dominic merely nodded.

  ‘Bella, I’m sorry, but—’

  ‘This is all to punish me for taking you to St Xavier’s today, isn’t it? For bringing back bad memories for you.’ She could do nothing to disguise the way her voice shook.

  His brow darkened. ‘This has nothing to do with that. Nothing!’ He slashed a hand through the air. ‘This is purely business.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’ Her mouth went drier than a desert as the truth hit her. ‘You’ve had a bee in your bonnet about me from the day we started. You’re angry that I got all the advantages in life when you had none. You’re angry that I’ve wasted those advantages. And now, now you want me to fail!’ He’d warned her he didn’t want her on his team. He’d told her he’d had no faith in her. And yet she’d thought...

  Her eyes burned. Her head throbbed. ‘You’ve been waiting for a moment like this so you could sabotage me.’

  His head reared back. His mouth became a thin white line. ‘I’m going to overlook that comment because I know how disappointed you are.’

  ‘Disappointed?’ That didn’t begin to describe it. He wanted to wreck everything she’d been working so hard towards. Everything!

  His eyes flashed as he tore the budget up into tiny pieces and threw them in the air. ‘You will work within the budget you were given, Bella. End of story.’

  She stared at the tiny pieces of paper fluttering on the air about her. ‘That took me hours,’ she whispered.

  ‘Hours poorly spent,’ he snapped.

  She had to swallow back a wave of nausea that rolled through her then. She could suddenly see the opening night in the restaurant and her father’s barely disguised disappointment and resignation. His face would shutter closed. He’d turn away.

  She couldn’t stand it!

  Dominic fished a key from his pocket and held it out to her. ‘Our new apartment is ready and waiting.’ He named the apartment complex. It was only a block away. ‘Marco organised for all of our things to be moved there earlier today. I suggest you head there now to compose yourself. You won’t get any good work done when you’re like this.’

  She took the key.

  Dominic had won.

  She turned and fled.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  DOMINIC threw his pen down with a less than subtle curse and gave up trying to work.

  Iceman, he reminded himself. That was what his business associates called him. He wasn’t feeling too ice-cold at the moment, though. In fact, he never felt like an iceman when Bella was around.

  Those big wounded eyes of hers rose in his mind. Again. He pressed a thumb and forefinger to his eyes and rubbed them. He’d been hard on her. Had he really torn her budget up into tiny pieces? Had he really told her that Luigi was a better choice for the job than her?

  With a groan he dropped his head to his hands and scratched them both back through his hair. That wasn’t true. Luigi might have more experience and a better business brain, but Bella had vision and passion to spare. She just needed to channel it in the right directions.

  ‘So what did you say it for you tactless idiot?’ he muttered under his breath. He’d never lost it like that with an employee before. Never.

  Why had he done so today? Because she’d called him a scary boss?

  He rolled his shoulders. He hadn’t liked hearing that. In fact, he’d hated it. He’d always prided himself on his approachability. For the first time he’d seen that maybe his pride had been misplaced. Icemen weren’t known for their warmth and empathy. Maybe it wasn’t just his business rivals who saw him as ruthless and cold.

  But he’d been called far worse things than a scary boss and he hadn’t lost it.

  She’d mentioned that darn kiss!

  He leapt up, strode to the window and stared out at the beach. He shoved his hands into his pockets. He couldn’t do anything about that kiss. He couldn’t take it back. He couldn’t repeat it. Yet every cell in his body clamoured to whenever she was near.

  He rolled his shoulders again and tried to loosen the knots in them. All that tension, it might’ve made him a tad testy.

  She’d gone white when he’d told her Luigi should’ve been given the job.

  He swiped a hand through the air and gave up lying to himself. It wasn’t the ‘scary boss’ comment. It wasn’t the kiss. It was that darn men’s shelter! It had taken him back to a dark place, a place where he’d been hungry and cold and powerless to do anything about it. That sense of helplessness had eaten at his soul all afternoon.

  It had felt good to vent at Bella, to yell at her, to throw his weight around and veto all of her ideas. And to feel righteous while doing it. The realisation made him feel sick. He hadn’t been wrong about the budget—Bella had lost her head and gone over the top with that—but the way he’d approached their discussion...

  He’d managed to remind himself of his power, to reinforce his autonomy and authority, but he’d made it personal. He’d been completely unprofessional.

  Why? Because, where his father was concerned, Bella had been right—he had been holding a grudge in his heart for too long.

  He pressed the heel of his hand to his brow. All she’d been trying to do was create the restaurant of Marco’s dreams, and he’d shot her ideas down in flames. Just like that. He should’ve handled it with more compassion and tact. Shown her some understanding and explained why he’d had to make the decision he had.

  He should’ve been around for her a whole lot more these last three weeks—offering her support, advice. For heaven’s sake, Marco had told him she knew next to nothing about managem
ent and business. He’d left her to flounder, knowing of her inexperience.

  You’ve been waiting for a moment like this so you could sabotage me!

  Garbage.

  Was it? a little voice whispered through him. He’d resented her from the first—the pampered only daughter, the spoiled little rich girl. Only Bella wasn’t spoiled. She worked hard. She had a big heart, and he...

  His hands clenched. Acid burned his tongue. Mean-spirited and cowardly, that was how he’d acted. He hadn’t been any kind of coach or mentor to her. She stirred emotions in him he didn’t want stirred. She’d challenged him about his past and his current attitude, and he’d found it hard to deal with. His solution had been to avoid her.

  To then jump on her like he had, when she’d made a mistake, that was patently unfair. He had to take a portion of the blame for her ridiculous budget.

  He was a classic example of how not to do things!

  He paced up and down in front of the window.

  This is all to punish me!

  So much of her self-respect was invested in that restaurant. He’d torn her vision to shreds, shot down her dream.

  There had been something in her face. Shock, for sure, but something else, too. Defeat?

  Despair!

  Dominic stiffened. ‘Oh, hell!’ He grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and bolted for the door.

  * * *

  Dominic burst into their new apartment, saw Bella’s suitcases packed and lined up beside the sofa and swore under his breath. Why the hell had he been so heavy handed with her?

  Bella appeared in the doorway, towing her last suitcase. Her jaw slackened when she saw him. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Damn it! She really had intended to do a runner without telling him first. He fought back the anger that clogged his throat, the disappointment, tossed his keys onto the small foyer-table and moved more fully into the room. ‘I decided to take the rest of the day off, too. I was curious to see the apartment.’

  He made himself glance around. ‘Marco has surpassed himself this time. This is a marked improvement.’

  The living room, dining room and kitchen were all open-plan, the kitchen divided from the rest of the room by a long, chest-high bench. The apartment was decorated in varying shades of blues and greys. Light poured in at wide windows that stretched along two entire walls. Bella shifted from one foot to the other and then pointed. ‘There’s the most fabulous view of the harbour.’