by Kate Hewitt
A valet had opened the door of the limousine as they’d pulled up to the front entrance of the hotel, and flashbulbs had popped and sparked as Mia had stepped out, blinking in the glare. She wasn’t used to the spotlight; she always stood to one side, watched it from afar. It felt very different to be the one basking in the bright light, especially when Alessandro had slid his arm through hers and smiled for the cameras, their heads nearly touching.
What was he doing? And why?
She still didn’t really understand the need for her presence at the ball. Yes, she knew Dillard’s clients, but she’d already given Alessandro all the relevant information in the files. And this was a charity event, not a business meeting. Surely he had someone else, a dozen ‘someone elses’, to accompany him to such a glittering occasion, a supermodel or socialite who would fit in more easily with all this well-heeled crowd? Mia didn’t know how to rub shoulders with these people; she was used to fetching them coffee. She was out of her depth, and she never felt it more so than when Alessandro approached a group of people, some of whom she knew, and introduced her as his ‘companion’.
Mia clocked the raised eyebrows, the curious smiles, the speculative looks, and like everyone else in the group she wondered what Alessandro Costa was playing at.
‘Why don’t you just tell people I’m your PA?’ she asked when they had a moment alone. She’d drunk two glasses of champagne in quick succession, more to have something to do than because of any desire to be drunk, but now her head was spinning, her tongue loosened.
‘Because tonight you are a beautiful woman who is accompanying me to a gala.’
‘But...’ She shook her head slowly, trying to discern the emotion behind his cool, mask-like exterior, his eyes like blank mirrors. The man gave absolutely nothing away. ‘Why?’
He shrugged his powerful shoulders, muscles rippling under the expensive material of his tuxedo. ‘Why not?’
‘You seem like a man who has a very clear reason for everything he does,’ Mia said slowly. ‘So your “why not?” doesn’t actually hold water with me.’
‘Oh?’ One dark slash of an eyebrow arched in cool amusement. ‘You surprise me with your perception, Miss James.’
‘If I’m your companion, perhaps you should call me Mia.’
Something flickered in his eyes, and Mia felt a shiver through her belly in response. She hadn’t meant to sound flirtatious, but she realised she might have...and she didn’t actually mind. ‘Very well,’ Alessandro said after a moment. ‘Mia.’ His voice, with his slight accent, seemed to caress the two syllables.
‘Where are you from?’ Mia asked. ‘It didn’t say when I looked online.’
His eyebrow arched higher. ‘You did a search on me?’
She shrugged. ‘After I heard you’d taken over the company, yes, of course. Information is power.’
‘True.’ His gaze held hers, his expression considering. ‘And is that what you want? Power?’
‘I want to keep my job,’ Mia said after a second’s pause. ‘And knowing my employer helps with that.’
‘Mia!’ A woman approached them in a flurry of cloying scent, kissing Mia on both cheeks while Alessandro stepped back discreetly. ‘Darling, how are you? I heard about poor Henry...’
Mia shot an alarmed look at Alessandro; his expression seemed dangerously neutral. ‘Diane,’ she said, after she’d returned the woman’s tight hug. ‘This is Alessandro Costa, the new CEO of Dillard Investments.’
‘New...oh.’ Diane Holley’s mouth dropped into a comical ‘o’ as she swivelled to face Alessandro, her eyes widening in shocked speculation.
‘Pleased to meet you...?’
‘Diane. Diane Holley.’ She took Alessandro’s outstretched hand, looking a bit dazed. As Diane shook his hand, Mia saw her expression change from surprise to admiration, her lowered gaze sweeping speculatively, and almost avariciously, over Alessandro Costa’s admittedly impressive form. ‘Very pleased to meet you too, of course...’ she murmured.
Mia felt a sharp tug of jealousy, a reaction which surprised and appalled her in equal measure. What on earth...? She had absolutely no reason to feel remotely jealous in any way. She didn’t care about Alessandro Costa. She didn’t even like the man. And jealousy was not an emotion she’d ever let herself entertain. It was so weak and needy. It was also dangerous.
And yet...she was wearing a beautiful dress, and he’d looked at her, for a brief second, with desire in his eyes, and for a single evening she’d felt like someone else entirely, someone transported into a fairy tale, from the shadows to the spotlight.
Perhaps one evening was too much, after all. The last thing she needed to do was lose her head, even for an evening, over Alessandro Costa. The man was too dangerous, and too much was at risk. Not just her job, but her very self. She couldn’t let Alessandro Costa affect her. Make her want. Make her weak. Not even for a moment.
Then he put another flute of champagne into her hand, and her fingers closed around the fragile crystal stem automatically. ‘You looked as if you were a million miles away,’ he murmured, his voice low and honeyed. ‘Don’t you like hearing about Diane Holley’s corgis?’
‘Corgis?’ Blinking, Mia realised Diane must have been chatting to Alessandro for a few minutes at least and she hadn’t taken in a word. The older woman, the wife of one of Dillard’s most important clients, had already moved on. ‘She told you about her corgis?’
‘I asked about them. You mentioned them this afternoon.’
‘Did I?’
Alessandro arched an eyebrow, looking more amused than annoyed—for once. ‘You really haven’t been paying attention, have you?’
‘Of course I have. I always do.’ She took a defiant sip of champagne. ‘Diane has four corgis, and one of them has digestive issues.’
‘She didn’t mention those tonight, thankfully.’
‘You were lucky, then.’ Mia’s breath came out in a surprised hiss as Alessandro took her elbow, his hand warm and dry and so very sure as he steered her towards another cluster of people. ‘Where...where are we going?’
‘To mingle, of course. That’s why we’re here. You’re going to introduce me to all these people, and then tell me their secrets.’
‘I thought I’d already done that this afternoon. Besides, I don’t know any secrets.’
‘I still need to put names to faces. And I think you know more secrets than you realise...always working behind the scenes, listening in the shadows.’
‘You make me sound like a snoop.’
‘No, someone who is smart.’ His gaze lingered on hers for a tantalising second as his hand had moved from her elbow to her waist, his fingers splayed across her hip. Heat flooded Mia’s body, and once again she was in danger of drifting along this lovely tide of feeling. ‘Mr Costa...’
‘You must call me Alessandro.’
‘You must stop acting like I’m your date.’ She knew she never would have said the words if she hadn’t had two glasses of champagne, and just chugged half of her third. If she wasn’t so afraid of how much he affected her.
‘Why? You are my date.’ He sounded utterly unruffled, like someone making a simple statement of fact.
‘No...’ Her breath came out in a rush. Her head spun. People were looking at them. Wondering. ‘I’m not. Not really...’
‘Yes, you are.’ They’d reached the group of people, and Alessandro kept his hand on her waist as he stretched out his other one. ‘Alessandro Costa, CEO of Dillard Investments.’ In turn, everyone shook his hand, with varying expressions of pleasure, speculation, or snobbery. It made Mia wonder yet again about Alessandro. What was he doing here, exactly? Why did he want her with him? Who was this man at her side? And how much did she want to know?
The chit-chat washed over her as she took in Alessandro’s easy, urbane manner. The man could be charming when he chose, a fa
ct that alarmed her. If Alessandro Costa affected her when he was blunt and brusque, heaven help her when he was easy and affable.
She knew a few people in the group through Dillard’s, and somehow, her mind still spinning, she made chit-chat, introduced Alessandro to a few others, and stumbled through the evening, feeling as if she were acting a part in a play, desperate now to get to the end of the evening without embarrassing herself or losing her head entirely over the man at her side.
When they were alone again, and she was finishing her third glass of champagne, she rather recklessly asked him about it all.
‘I can make conversation, if that’s what you mean,’ he answered as he sipped his own champagne.
‘What do you want from these people?’ Mia asked, her tongue well and truly loosened by now. ‘Why did you buy Dillard Investments, really?’
A guarded look came over his face before he shrugged, the movement clearly meant to be dismissive. ‘Why do I buy any company?’
‘You tell me.’
The tiniest of pauses. ‘For financial gain.’
‘But you said yourself Dillard’s was operating at a loss.’
‘That doesn’t mean it always has to.’
‘Still...’ She shook her head slowly. ‘A man like you...’
‘A man like me?’ Alessandro’s voice sharpened. ‘What does that mean, exactly?’
‘Only that you must always have your eye on the bottom line.’
‘True.’ He eyed her thoughtfully. ‘So what did you learn about me, during that online cyberstalking session?’
Mia let out a choked laugh. ‘I was hardly stalking.’
‘Weren’t you?’
‘Gathering information. Big difference.’
‘Hmm.’ She felt dizzy with the turn in their conversation. It almost felt as if...as if they were flirting. But of course they couldn’t be. ‘So,’ Alessandro asked, stepping closer, ‘what did you learn about me, Mia?’
* * *
Alessandro hadn’t meant to ask the question. He surely didn’t mean to bother with the answer. He was curious despite his determination never to be curious about anyone. Curiosity implied caring, and he didn’t care. And yet... ‘Anything interesting?’ The words sounded provocative.
Mia licked her lips, her tongue looking very pink as she touched it to her full, lush lips, the instinctive movement causing a dart of desire to arrow through him, unsettling in its intensity. ‘Not really.’ Her gaze skittered away from his. ‘Not much.’
‘Tell me.’ His voice was low, the words a command, but with a thread of something dark and rich running through it, a promise he hadn’t meant to make. Mia turned to look at him, her eyes widening, looking very blue and clear. Eyes he could drown in if he let himself. He stepped closer. ‘Tell me,’ he said again.
‘Well...’ Again her tongue touched her lips. ‘You have a reputation for being ruthless. You take over companies, strip them of their assets, and fire about ninety percent of the staff before absorbing the company into Costa International.’
That was the gist without being entirely true, but Alessandro wasn’t about to defend his actions. They spoke for themselves.
‘Are you going to do that with Dillard’s?’ Her chin lifted a little. ‘Fire everyone? Get rid of it all?’
He eyed her for a moment, considering what to tell her. For some contrary reason he didn’t like the thought of her thinking badly of him, which was ridiculous, because he’d been thought of far worse by the furious CEOs he’d displaced.
‘I’m not going to fire everyone,’ he said at last. ‘I never do.’
‘Ninety percent, then.’
‘Your percentages are a bit off.’
‘Do you enjoy it?’ she asked, her voice choking. ‘Ruining people’s lives?’
He stared at her for a moment, fighting the urge to explain the truth of his mission. But, no. He was not going to justify himself to her. He was certainly not going to care about her opinion. ‘Does it seem as if I do?’ he asked, meaning to sound dismissive.
Slowly she shook her head. ‘You don’t actually seem cruel.’
‘No?’ He tried to keep his voice disinterested.
‘The media portrayed you as a bit of a cowboy...someone who came from nowhere and had a meteoric rise. Not entirely respectable, but not cruel.’
‘Well, they were wrong,’ Alessandro said lightly, even though her words were like razors on his skin. ‘I’m not at all respectable.’
‘Is that why you took Dillard’s over? To seem respectable?’
The question grated. As if he wanted to don Dillard’s shabby suit and call himself a gentleman. ‘Not at all. I don’t care one iota if I seem respectable or not.’
‘Then why bother with them? Where is the profit?’
‘In the clients I keep.’ Although Alessandro suspected there would be little profit indeed. Profit was not why he did what he did, at least not in regard to companies such as Dillard’s.
‘And what about all the employees? Innocent people...don’t you care about them?’
More than she would ever know. ‘You’re sounding like a crusader, Mia,’ he warned her. He did not wish to discuss this any longer. ‘It’s quite dull.’
Her eyes flashed. ‘So sorry I’m boring you, but people’s lives are at stake. Besides... I would have thought you might understand how they felt.’
He tensed, the perception in her eyes like a needle burrowing into his skin. ‘Oh?’
‘The media said you came from a poor background...the slums of Naples.’ He angled his head away from her, not trusting the expression on his face. ‘Is that true?’
‘Slums is such a pejorative word, but I suppose, in essence, yes.’ He did his best to sound bored. He was bored.
The last thing he wanted to talk about was his pathetic past...the endless chaos of moving from grotty flat to grotty flat, the stints in foster care when his mother had lost custody of him, the endless jobs she’d taken cleaning office buildings, the countless boyfriends she’d had in a desperate bid to assuage the despairing sadness of her life. A childhood he’d done his best always to remember, to remind him of how he would be different, even as he pretended to forget.
‘Then if you know what it’s like to be poor, to live from pay check to pay check, how can you fire people like that?’
‘Because I know what it’s like to work hard,’ he said in a steely voice, ‘and to earn what I have. And anyone who does those things will have a position with Costa International, that much I guarantee.’
Her eyes widened. ‘They will?’
She sounded so hopeful it made him cringe. ‘Dillard Investments was dying on the vine. I just plucked it before it fell, withered, to the ground. If anything, I’ve saved people’s jobs in the long run.’
‘Do you really mean that?’
Impatient now, he shrugged. ‘Henry Dillard was charming, I’ll grant you that, but he was a terrible businessman. I did his employees a favour.’ Why had he stooped to justifying himself? ‘I’m not the monster you seem to think I am,’ he finished levelly. ‘Regardless of what you read online.’
She stared at him for a moment, and he felt as if she were seeing right inside him, that blue, blue gaze burrowing deep down inside his soul, reaching places he’d closed off for good. He looked away, shrugging as he took a sip of champagne, struggling to master his wayward emotions.
‘No,’ she said softly. ‘I don’t think you are.’
‘You’ve changed your mind?’ He’d meant to sound offhand and failed.
‘I think you like to present yourself as someone hardened and ruthless,’ she said slowly. ‘It’s the right image for someone who specialises in corporate takeovers, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose.’ What else could he say? She saw too much already.
‘I wonder who you really are,�
� she murmured. ‘I wonder what you’re hiding.’ Alessandro stared at her, unable to look away. He felt a tug low in his belly, pulling him towards her. She wanted to know him. It was beguiling, alarming. Nobody knew him, not like that.
‘Let’s dance,’ he said, his voice roughened with emotion. When they danced, they wouldn’t talk. She wouldn’t say things or see inside him. He would make sure of it.
Wordlessly Mia nodded, and after depositing their empty champagne flutes on a nearby table, Alessandro took her by the hand and led her to the ballroom’s parquet dance floor. The music was a slow, sensuous piece, the sonorous wail of a saxophone wrapping its lonely notes around them as Alessandro took her into his arms.
Her hips bumped his gently and heat flared white-hot, making his hands tense on hers before he deliberately relaxed his grip and began to move her around the floor.
She was elegant in his arms, matching the rhythm of his movements, her hips swaying, her body lithe. Lithe and eager. He felt her tremble and knew, like him, she felt this most inconvenient and heady desire, growing stronger with every second they swayed together. The realisation only stoked his own.
Sex, for him, had always been a matter of expediency, a physical need to be met like any other—food, water, sleep, sex. That was how he’d viewed it. Something to be ticked off, the same as he would with a physical workout or a medical examination.
This felt different. More. This desire, twining through him like some dangerous vine, felt capable of overwhelming him. Overtaking the rational thought, common sense and, far worse, the self-control that were the touchstones of his life, the anchors of his soul. And the most alarming part was, in this moment he didn’t even think he cared.
The pressures of overseeing the takeover, the twenty-hour work days and the ceaseless striving, for years now, decades...in this moment he sloughed it all off like an old skin, let it slither about him in dead, dried peels, as desire birthed him anew.
