Italian Boss, Proud Miss Prim

by Susan Stephens

  He appeared to be battling with a decision, while her hands had balled into fists, Katie realised, slowly releasing them. Where had this crazy idea sprung from? She had never come across anyone like Rigo Ruggiero before, she reminded herself. He was still thinking. She had to interpret that as a maybe and, having taken the first step, found the second was much easier. Better to get things out in the open now. ‘I do have one condition.’

  ‘You’re making conditions?’

  Rigo’s look pierced her confidence, but this was an all-important step in rebuilding her life. Yes, she was a small-town girl who was scarred comprehensively inside and out—and she should know her place—but retiring into the shadows would be a step back into the dark place she’d inhabited after the fire.

  ‘Go on,’ Rigo prompted impatiently.

  ‘If we stay over in Tuscany—’

  ‘I haven’t agreed to you coming with me yet.’

  ‘But you will,’ she said, crossing her fingers behind her back.

  ‘If we stay over?’ he prompted.

  ‘I’ll need a place to stay.’

  ‘Of course you will.’

  ‘A separate place to stay…’ Her face was growing hotter every second.

  ‘Separate from me, do you mean?’

  She heard the faint derision in his voice. ‘That is correct,’ she said tightly, feeling like that certain someone had come back to stand on her throat.

  Rigo barked a laugh. ‘Why?’ he demanded. ‘Don’t you trust yourself alone with me, Signorina Prim?’

  He was a busy man. Why was he making this hard for her? He needed a PA. And as he stared into Katie’s pale, passionate face, he knew he wanted her to go with him. ‘Well? What are you waiting for?’ he snapped, frowning impatiently. ‘Grab your bag, and let’s go.’

  Katie hadn’t realised Rigo’s idea of a trip to Tuscany would include a sleek white executive jet, which he piloted into Pisa Airport. Scurrying alongside him as he strolled through the terminal building without any of the usual formalities was another eye-opener. Next he introduced her to what seemed like an acre of cream calfskin in the back of a limousine. His chauffeur did the rest, driving them seamlessly through the exquisite Tuscan countryside, while she felt her thigh ping with the proximity of Rigo’s thigh and fretted about sleeping arrangements.

  Was she mad suggesting this? Dull little Katie Bannister off on a jolly with her drop-dead-gorgeous boss? What surprised her even more was that Rigo had accepted her offer to work for him—temporarily, of course. And now he was sending her senses haywire. She risked a glance his way as the car swept round a bend.

  ‘Look, Katie…that palace on the hill is the Palazzo Farnese.’

  Katie looked, but what she saw did not match Rigo’s tone of voice. One of the ice-cream-cone-shaped towers looked as if it had been attacked with a battering ram, and to her eyes Rigo’s inheritance looked more like a fat toad squatting on the top of the hill than a fairy-tale palazzo.

  ‘It’s a jewel, isn’t it?’ he breathed.

  Katie hummed, trying not to sound too noncommittal. True, the hill the palazzo stood upon was lush and green, and had it been in good order the palazzo would indeed be set on the brow of that hill like a jewel. She set her imagination to work. It wasn’t so hard. In some places where the passage of time had been kind the ancient stone glowed a soft rose-pink in the late-afternoon sunlight, and there were tiny salt-white houses clustered around the crumbling walls. Yes, it could be called beautiful—if you squinted up your eyes and tried to picture how the palazzo might look after a world of renovation—but oh, my goodness, how would Rigo react when they finally arrived?

  ‘My family home…’ Rigo’s voice betrayed his excitement. ‘I haven’t been back for years…’

  And years and years, Katie thought, trying not to imagine Rigo’s disappointment when he moved past this nostalgia for a childhood that had ended with Carlo’s arrival on the scene. Strangely, though she had no emotional involvement with the palazzo, it called to her too. She was bewitched and could already picture the rooms, which she imagined to have high vaulted ceilings, when they were loved and cared for. She knew instinctively the palazzo was worth saving. Monuments to another time were rare and precious and she could never dismiss one out of hand. How she would love to take a hand in restoring it…

  And with her sensible head on she had an open ticket home if the job didn’t work out.

  Having driven up to the grounds, they entered through some ornate gates. A little shabby perhaps but that only added to their charm. They would need checking, of course, to make sure they were safe. She made a note. A gracious drive lay ahead of them, lined with stately sentinels of blue-green cypress. Well, at least those wouldn’t need trimming, she thought, noting the overgrown flower beds and thinking of the work needed there. As the limousine swept on she could see it was all very grand—or had been at one time. Crenellated battlements scraped a cloudless cobalt sky and each conical tower, damaged or not, wore a coronet of cloud. ‘It’s magical,’ she murmured.

  ‘Let’s hope so.’

  Rigo’s tone of voice suggested he had ditched the rose-coloured spectacles, and for that she was glad. And the setting was perfect. A limpid silver lake lay behind the palazzo, while the ghost of a formal garden could still be seen at the front amongst the weeds. To reach the main entrance they crossed a vast cobbled courtyard, which fortunately had survived intact, and as they passed beneath a stone arch she noticed a royal crest carved into the stone. Her heart juddered to see the same rampant lion engraved on Rigo’s father’s ring. That royal seal only put another wedge between them.

  Rigo saw her interest and dismissed it. ‘Everyone’s son’s a prince in Italy,’ he said. ‘Look on it as a benefit,’ he added dryly. ‘You can have a whole royal apartment to yourself.’

  She smiled thinly and gave a little laugh. That was what she’d wanted, wasn’t it?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ONCE upon a time she had believed in fairy tales, but that was before the fire. She knew Rigo only wanted her for her organised mind with the same certainty she knew this visit would be a disappointment for him. She was in serious danger of falling in love with him, Katie realised as the chauffeur slowed the car.

  A group of uniformed staff was waiting for them at the top of the steps. They looked a little anxious, Katie thought, hoping Rigo would reassure them. Her heart was thundering as the limousine slowed to a halt. This was awful. She couldn’t bear to think of Rigo disappointed or the staff let down. From start to finish this whole business was proving more disturbing than she could possibly have dreamed.

  But Rigo seemed to have come to terms with the damage to the palazzo and put his disappointment behind him. ‘I’m home,’ he said, seizing hold of her hands.

  He quickly let them go.

  She followed him out of the car, registering more alarm now she could see how many twinkling windows were broken. She was still calculating the damage when she heard Rigo groan. Following his gaze, she felt like groaning too. A crowd of squealing fashionistas had started pouring out of the doors, pushing the hapless staff aside as they fought to be the first to greet Carlo’s brother. These must be Carlo’s friends, Katie realised, only now they were anxious to transfer their affections to Rigo.

  ‘Hold this, will you?’

  Thrusting a suitcase-sized handbag into Katie’s arms, one of the older, immaculately groomed women elbowed her way through the scrum to reach Rigo, who was handling everyone with charm and patience, but as the woman reached his side and launched herself at him he frowned and turned around to look for Katie.

  ‘You should have waited for me,’ he said, coming immediately to her side. ‘And whose is this?’ he demanded. Removing the handbag from Katie’s grasp, he dumped it on the ground. Putting his arm around Katie’s shoulders, he shepherded her up the steps.

  It didn’t mean a thing, Katie told herself as her heart raced. Rigo was a very physical man for whom touching and embracing we
re second nature—a man who radiated command. Seeing her on the outside of the group had simply stirred his protective instincts.

  She stood by his side at the top of the steps as he gave an ultimatum. His Press office would issue a further statement, he said, and in the meantime he was sure everyone would respect his grief and go home.

  Smiles faded rapidly. People looked at each other. Then they looked at Katie and a buzz of comment swept through the group. Katie’s cheeks reddened as she imagined what everyone must be saying—it ran along the lines of, what was a man like Rigo Ruggiero doing with a woman like her? She didn’t have a clue either, if that helped them.

  Rigo didn’t appear to care what anyone thought, and chose to neither explain nor to excuse her presence.

  Everyone saw a different side of him, Katie realised, from the Press, who loved to photograph him, to the hangers-on, who hoped to gain something by being here. She had seen his fun side and wondered how many people had seen that. Right now he was all steel and unforgiving. And if she’d only stopped to think—if these people had only stopped to think—they would all have known that a playboy could never have built up the empire Rigo had. She was as guilty as they were of being distracted by his dazzling good looks and his charm, but she had learned that to underestimate him was a very dangerous pastime indeed.

  He went straight from this announcement to introduce himself to the staff and to reassure them. He insisted Katie accompany him for this and he introduced her as his assistant. No one seemed to think this the slightest bit odd and she received some friendly smiles.

  Rigo looked magnificent, Katie thought as he returned to the top of the steps to be sure his orders were being carried out to his satisfaction. A Roman general couldn’t have had better effect. Hope was already blossoming on the faces of his staff, and a very different look had come over the faces of Carlo’s friends.

  ‘We have to be a little patient,’ Rigo confided in her, leaning close. ‘Everyone has yet to learn that I am a very different man from my brother.’

  ‘I think they may have guessed that,’ Katie ventured.

  ‘Your luggage and belongings will be packed and brought out to you,’ Rigo announced to those who still refused to believe the gravy train had reached the station. ‘Meanwhile, please feel free to enjoy the beauty of the grounds.’

  But not the palazzo, Katie guessed as a groan went up.

  ‘Come—’ his face was set and hard as he turned to her ‘—we have work to do.’

  The power emanating from Rigo was both thrilling and concerning. Even as Katie’s hand strayed to trace the pattern of Rigo’s breath on her cheek she could not shake the feeling that the inside of the palazzo was going to be worse than the outside. Wouldn’t he need time alone to deal with his feelings? ‘Maybe you’d like space?’ she suggested.

  ‘Space?’ He looked at her as if she were mad.

  ‘Some time alone? I’m sure I’ll have no trouble finding somewhere to stay in town—’

  ‘I thought you worked for me?’

  ‘Of course—’

  ‘Then why would you stay in town? This isn’t a holiday, Signorina Bannister.’

  ‘I didn’t—’

  ‘Did you bring a notebook?’

  This was another side of Rigo—ruthless and without the playboy mask. He walked straight in while she hesitated on the threshold. Beneath her boxy jacket the tight skin on her back had begun stinging with apprehension, but for the first time in a long time she ignored it and started jotting notes: ‘Replace damaged architrave…sand down and re-polish entrance doors…replace broken tile just inside the door. Replace all floor tiles,’ Katie amended, feeling a chill grow inside her. At her side Rigo had gone quite still.

  He swore in Italian. ‘This is bad. And if you’re still worrying about sleeping arrangements, don’t.’

  Rigo was in a furious temper, Katie realised, as well he might be, considering the abuse of his ancestral home.

  ‘Whatever the state of this building,’ he assured her in a snarl, ‘you’ll have a lock on your door and at least a mile of corridor between us.’ And I wouldn’t touch you with a bargepole, his expression added viciously.

  She held her ground and Rigo’s stare. She had to believe his anger wasn’t directed at her. So her precious chastity would remain intact—that was what she wanted, wasn’t it?

  Yes, but not like this, not with Rigo treating her like the enemy.

  Standing in the centre of what must once have been a gracious vaulted hall was heartbreaking, even for Katie. They had moved from the seductive heat of Tuscany, from air drenched in sunlight and laced with the heady scent of honeysuckle and roses, into a dank, dark space that reeked of decay. Spilled wine marked what must have once been an elegant marble floor and there were even cigarette butts trodden carelessly into the tiles.

  ‘Dio,’ Rigo murmured softly at her side.

  If he had been anyone else, she would have reached out and grasped his hand to show her support, but she knew he didn’t want that. His rigid form forbade all human contact. How would she feel if the beautiful home she remembered from her childhood and had longed to see again turned out to be a crumbling ruin that Carlo’s friends had treated like an ashtray?

  But a lot of the damage was superficial, Katie concluded as she stared around. She guessed there must have been one heck of a party in anticipation of Rigo’s arrival, which made everything look so much worse. But there was some structural work to do as well…She made a note.

  Rigo’s face reflected both his anger and his agony. He looked on the point of walking out. She could sympathise with that. There had been many times when she had wanted to give up after the fire, and here in the palazzo it must seem as if the last remnants of Rigo’s childhood had gone up in flames.

  ‘Vero…I knew it was too good to be true,’ he murmured. ‘Now you can see my stepbrother’s true nature and his legacy to me.’

  As he raked his hair with stiff, angry fingers she could no longer resist the impulse to reach out. ‘Rigo, I’m so sorry—’

  ‘I don’t need your pity,’ he snapped. ‘We’re going back to Rome. I’m going to put the palazzo on the market—’

  ‘And turn your back on it?’ She was acutely aware that members of staff were hovering uncertainly in the background.

  ‘I’ll do what I have to do.’

  ‘Rigo.’ She chased him to the door. ‘Don’t you think you should—?’

  ‘What?’ he demanded furiously. ‘Why can’t you leave me alone?’ He lifted his arm, shunning her concern, but the murmur of a worried staff was still ringing in her ears. ‘No—wait,’ she said, seizing his arm.

  Rigo stared coldly at her hand on his arm. She slowly removed it. Here in this derelict palazzo, surrounded by old memories and faded glory with a battalion of servants watching them, she was more out of place than she had ever been, but someone had to try and reach Rigo. ‘So Carlo wins—’

  ‘He’s already won.’ Slamming his fist against the ruined door, Rigo leaned his face on his arm and fought to control his feelings. A long moment passed before he raised his head again. ‘Call a meeting of the staff.’ He sucked in a steadying breath before adding, ‘Tell them I’ll meet them here in the hall in two hours’ time. And please reassure them,’ he continued in a voice that was devoid of all expression, ‘that before I go back to Rome they will all be taken care of.’

  But who would take care of Rigo? Katie wondered. Seeing his childhood home reduced to a ruin had ripped his heart out. She knew how that felt too. ‘Where will you go now?’ she said, unconsciously clutching her throat.

  ‘To find my driver. To make certain he has some rest and refreshment before we return to Pisa—’

  ‘To fly to Rome?’

  ‘Yes.’ Distractedly he wiped a hand across his face.

  ‘Don’t you have to draw up a flight plan?’ He needed time to get over this shock before he piloted a plane—before he decided what to do. She was looking for something, anyt
hing that would give him time to think.

  Rigo shook his head as if to say, don’t concern yourself with such things, and his next words proved to be the final nail in the coffin of her dreams. ‘There’s no job for you here, as I’m sure you’ve worked out. Please accept my apologies for a wasted journey,’ he added stiffly. ‘My driver will, of course, take you to the airport so you can catch the next flight home.’

  Home…

  The sound of the battered door slamming heavily into place behind him brought more plaster off the walls, but even as Katie turned to look around and saw the group of people waiting for her to reassure them she experienced something she couldn’t put a name to. It was uncanny, almost like a sixth sense, but she felt as if she was already home.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE servants were whispering and casting anxious glances Katie’s way. Tears stung her eyes when she realised many of them were armed with sweeping brushes, buckets and mops. She crossed the hall, intending only to deliver Rigo’s instructions about the meeting, but seeing all those worried faces triggered something inside her. ‘Do you have a spare brush?’ she said instead to the housekeeper. ‘If we all pitch in,’ she explained in Italian, ‘this won’t take so long…’

  There was no need for words—no time for conversation from that moment on. There was just concentrated effort from a small team of people including Katie, all of whom were determined to give the grand old palazzo a second chance. The Palazzo Farnese might have been brought to its knees by Carlo Ruggiero’s lack of investment and care and his friends’ rough treatment of it, but everyone sensed this could be a turning point if they worked hard enough.

  When the old hall smelled fresh and clean Katie made some discreet enquiries about where Rigo had gone.

  ‘After speaking to his driver he went to the leisure suite,’ the housekeeper told her. ‘I took the precaution of locking it,’ the older woman added, touching her finger to her nose as Gino had. This brought the first smile of the day to Katie’s face. ‘Very sensible,’ she agreed.