by Joan Kilby
Chapter Six
“Feel free to wear any of the clothes in the hanging lockers and use the toiletries in the head,” Sonia told Layla. “If there’s anything else you wish, please ask.”
“Thanks. This is amazing.” Layla gazed around at her luxurious stateroom.
After Sonia left, she explored. The bathroom was creamy marble with gold fittings and stocked with deliciously scented shampoos and lotions. There was makeup in sealed packages, brand new toothbrushes, and—her eyebrows rose slightly—a generous supply of both male and female condoms. The bedroom was dominated by a king size bed, a sitting area with two club chairs, and a coffee table bearing a vase of fresh flowers and a basket of fruit.
Layla fell backwards onto the bed, sinking into the soft duvet. She couldn’t believe Giorgio didn’t come here more often. Man, if she owned this tub she’d never go in to the office. He really was a slave to his corporation. And he’d clamped the iron bands of servitude around his wrists and ankles himself.
Speaking of handcuffs…she still had them in her purse. The image of him bound naked to the bed while she had her saucy way with him made her squirm pleasurably. She got hot just thinking about his thigh muscles straining against his pant leg. And those shoulders. Yum.
He was wound so tight she ought to get him in the sack for his own good. Her eyes closed as she pictured him doing unspeakably delicious things to her. Fantasies could only take a girl so far, though. What Giorgio needed was a jolly good roger, to use the nautical parlance. Frankly, so did she.
She checked her phone but there weren’t any more messages from Tina. A call to her number went straight to voice mail. Nothing more she could do on that front now so she might as well get ready for lunch. She showered, blow dried her hair, put on make up, and went out to investigate the teak closets, what Sonia had called hanging lockers.
The racks were filled with dresses, shorts, skirts, and tops of every description plus evening gowns in three different sizes. All the clothing looked brand new and most still had labels on. Oh, and look at the shoes! This place was awesome.
The bathing suits were designer but not as good as hers, if she did say so herself. Imagine if Giorgio were to stock her label in his private yacht. She bet all sorts of celebrities were guests of the Borlenghis.
She put on her own bikini, which she just happened to have in her tote bag. To wear over that she chose a short flippy skirt and a sheer white blouse knotted high, leaving a strip of tanned skin around her waist. A pair of jeweled sandals completed her outfit. With her hair long and loose, she perched a pair of sunglasses atop her head and found her way back up to the after deck where a table was laid for lunch.
Layla sank onto a cushioned chair beneath a shade sail and drank in her surroundings. In the bay, small sailboats bobbed past, masthead flags fluttering, toward the harbor. The city of Naples rose behind it, climbing the steep hills. It all seemed too beautiful to be true. Any minute now she would wake up from this amazing dream and find herself in her tiny apartment in gray and rainy Seattle.
Ah, but wouldn’t it be nice if this glimpse into how the other half lived could be permanent? Not that she expected for a moment that Giorgio would be her ticket to the jet-setting life. She was more than willing to work for everything she got. All she needed was the opportunity. Speaking of opportunities…maybe after lunch she and Giorgio could have a little siesta on the daybed she’d spotted on the foredeck.
A white-coated young waiter with soulful dark eyes came to serve her, introducing himself as Matteo in heavily accented English. “Would you like a cocktail before lunch, Signora?”
“A Negroni, please.” She’d never had one before but she knew it contained Campari, which was Italian and sophisticated—perfect for a sparkling day on the Bay of Naples.
“I’ll have one as well,” Giorgio said, coming out on deck. He added a few more words to Matteo in Italian before seating himself. “My apologies for keeping you waiting. I had business to attend to.” Despite his smooth smile there was tension in the crease between his eyebrows.
“Is there a problem?” she asked. If he was fretting about work, he wasn’t going to be willing to stay on the yacht until Tina and the others got there. Her gaze drifted down his slim hips to his lean, muscular, runner’s legs. It would be a shame to leave early.
He waved her question away. “You wouldn’t be interested.”
“Try me.” Maybe talking it out would help him relax—although she could think of better ways. She pushed away her lascivious thoughts to concentrate.
“All right then. Borlenghi Group uses Dagostini Shipping to transport goods around the world. We’ve already built their existing rates into our costs for the contract with the Chinese. Dagostini is trying to negotiate an increase its rates. This could throw a major wrench in the works.”
“Tell Dagostini you’ll shop around for a better price.”
“Dagostino was my father’s best friend, and he is my ex-father-in-law. Because of the family ties I feel an obligation to work with him.”
“Your father’s dead and your marriage to his daughter is over,” Layla pointed out as gently as she could. Tina was right, he needed to move on—in more ways than one.
“It’s not that simple. His is the oldest and best shipping company in Europe. To go with a competitor introduces risk. Any uncertainty makes our expansion into Asia less attractive to my Chinese counterpart.”
“It sounds complicated,” Layla admitted.
“All the elements are stacked delicately together like a house of cards, which can come tumbling down if one crucial element is removed. If that happened it would spell financial disaster.”
Matteo returned bearing a tray laden with ruby red drinks and a bowl of roasted macadamia nuts. She sipped her cocktail, which turned out to be bitter but refreshing.
“Your divorce must have hurt the business and family friendship ties,” she said.”
“It was a blow,” Giorgio agreed. “Especially as it followed closely upon my father’s and older brother’s death. Dagostini isn’t trying to gouge us. He has financial pressures too.”
“Did you marry to strengthen those ties?” She hated to think he would make such an unromantic arrangement. It would be against a law of nature or something for a guy so hot to do something so cold-blooded.
“I married out of passion.” He punctuated his words with an emphatic gesture. “The only reason a person should marry.” Then he shrugged. “But of course our families were pleased to combine the wealth and hopefully beget an heir to both fortunes.”
Passion. Even the way he said the word made her think of hot nights and tangled sheets. She said, “It’s a shame it didn’t work out, especially with everything conspiring to make it a success.”
Giorgio shrugged, his mouth turned down. “Paola expected a life of jet-setting and socializing.”
Ah, so that’s what went wrong. After his father and brother died, the workload all fell on his shoulders. “You sacrificed your marriage for the company. That’s awful.”
“It is what it is. I enjoy the perks of my position but can never forget that with privilege comes responsibility.”
“I presume your sisters enjoy the perks too. Shouldn’t they also share the responsibility?” And naturally, the authority, but she didn’t think she needed to state the obvious.
“The responsibility is my duty. Also my honor and…,” he paused then added quietly, “My penance.”
Layla leaned forward, not sure she heard correctly. “Did you say penance? What do you mean by that?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, waving it aside.
She bet it did matter, and she was starting to feel sympathy for him. Whether his sisters realized it or not, he wasn’t working his ass off just because he was a workaholic. Rightly or wrongly, he saw himself as solely responsible for the success or failure of the Borlenghi Group.
Matteo arrived pushing a trolley laded with plates of seafood linguini tossed in w
hat smelled like Napoli sauce, fresh rocket salad, and baskets of bread. He poured glasses of Pinot Grigio wine and left. Conversation was reduced to requests for bread to be passed and Layla’s whimpers of pleasure at every bite. The setting was paradise, the food was five-star delicious, and the wine was nectar of the gods. Fitting for the god-like man sitting next to her. She cast glances his way, noting his forearms liberally sprinkled with the dark hair and his long, masculine fingers. She would love to feel those hands on her, smoothing over her skin…
Giorgio broke off a chunk of pane della casa. “After lunch I’ll order the helicopter to take you back to Rome.”
Huh? Hell, no. She took a breath and found a casual tone. “Oh, that’s okay. I don’t mind staying while you have your conference call. We can go back together later.” Much later if she had her way.
“I kidnapped you, but I’m not a pirate,” he said, eyeing her closely. “This is the last day of fashion week. You’ll be missing opportunities stuck down here.”
“I’ve got Renaldo working on it for me.” Her smile was easy, but she clutched her napkin beneath the table. Was she being foolish, gambling her entire trip on this one opportunity to win Giorgio over? No, Tina said she wanted her. She had to hang in there. And Layla was just a tad curious whether those fine Italian hands could send her into orbit.
“No, really. I wouldn’t want you to lose out just because I had an impulsive moment this morning,” he insisted. “I whisked you away, but I can whisk you back just as quickly.”
For crying out loud. Of all times for him to be so accommodating. Or was he testing her? Was that a crafty smile lurking in his dark eyes?
“That would be a waste of helicopter fuel,” she pointed out. “Think of what it would do to your carbon footprint.”
“I’m touched you’re so concerned with my green credentials.” He pinned her with his gaze. “Apparently Tina’s coming down here on Sunday. Did you know?”
Layla swallowed. Shit. She reached for her wine, buying a second with a sip. The more she got to know him, the harder it got to lie to him. But she’d dug herself a pit, and circumstances were forcing her deeper into deception. “No, I didn’t know. Oh, wait, she did say something about it being your birthday. Are you staying for the weekend?”
“I wasn’t planning to. But I would like to speak to Tina.”
“About her signing me?” Layla said, addressing the elephant on the after deck. “It must be at least twenty-four hours since I’ve brought the subject up.”
That got a reluctant grin out of him but also a head shake. “Not that. It’s about her boyfriend, Fabio. He’s no good. And I’m going to prove it to her.”
Layla’s smile faded. She didn’t like the sound of this. “How?”
“I hired a private investigator to follow him.”
She slammed down her fork. “Are you kidding me? Controlling your sister in business is one thing but interfering in her private life? That’s not acceptable.”
“It’s none of your business, but I’m not interfering. I’m protecting her.”
“You have no idea what the difference is, do you? You’re taking this responsibility thing way too far.”
“I do what I have to for my family—” His phone rang and he excused himself to answer it. His face broke into a huge smile and he began to speak rapidly in Italian.
Layla got up and paced away, too agitated to sit still. Should she tell Tina about the private investigator? What if he was right and Fabio was a rat? But what if he was wrong? She liked that he cared enough about his sister to risk pissing her off even more than she already was. But the man had no boundaries when it came to being controlling. After Richard, any hint of a man taking over sent alarm bells ringing. Maybe she should take his offer of a lift back to Rome.
Giorgio put his phone down with a wistful smile. “That was Rocco, the captain of Naples football team, returning my call. They’re playing tonight. It’s going to be a good game.”
She walked back to the table. No, she was on a mission. She would stay as long as she could. “We should go. I’ve never seen an Italian soccer match.” And never had the slightest desire to until this very moment, but Giorgio didn’t need to know that.
”Are you a fan?” he asked.
“Sure, why not?” She poured herself a bit more wine and went to top up his glass.
“No, thank you.” He put his hand over his glass. “I have that conference call this afternoon.”
“Could we go for a swim when you’re done?”
His mouth curved in a one-sided smile. “Swimming, football matches… A few hours ago you complained that I’d kidnapped you. Now you want to stay.”
Yes, she wanted a contract with Tina but she was also enjoying Giorgio’s company. Now that she understood his business stresses a little better, she wanted him to relax and not think about work. She hoped to convince him to take his sisters’ concerns seriously, not just for their sake but also for his. And if she was going to tell Tina about the private investigator, she should find out if Giorgio was full of shit or if Fabio really was no good.
Last, but definitely not least, she wanted to sleep with him. In a relationship Giorgio would be all wrong for her. But as a hot fling for a weekend? He was all kinds of right.
“I’ve decided I like it here,” she said, looking at him through her eyelashes. “I want to see the soccer game.”
His dark eyebrows pulled together. “It’s football.”
“Football is gridiron. What you’re talking about is soccer.” God, she loved pushing his buttons.
“Call it football or we don’t go.”
“Okay, you win. Football, it is,” she said, pretending reluctance. Surely it would be too late to return to Rome after the game. “And don’t forget the swim.” Layla rose. Placing a hand casually on his shoulder she walked behind him and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “You drive a hard bargain.”
“Grazie, Signor Chang. We’ll speak again next week when the final documents have been prepared.” Giorgio bade a cordial goodbye and clicked out of Skype. In the quiet of the office he allowed himself a small fist pump. That had gone well.
He checked his watch. Nearly five. He was late for his swim with Layla. But he still had to tackle his sister.
“Ciao, Tina,” he said when she picked up. “Luigi tells me you’re planning to come down to the yacht on Sunday.”
“Si. Hang on…” There was noise of rustling and thudding in the background. “Sorry, I’m talking while I’m moving some beach umbrellas. They’re props for a shoot.”
Giorgio swiveled on his chair. “Don’t you have people to do that for you?”
“This is for Fabio.” She issued instructions to an assistant then came back. “Yes, Sunday. Can’t wait. You and Layla will still be there, right? Angela, Francesca, and Mamma are coming too, for your birthday. Makes sense, right?”
Fabio. Layla. His family. “What makes you think Layla’s here?”
“Oh.” Tina went quiet suddenly then she began to speak quickly. “I-I just assumed, I guess, since you went away so abruptly. And…I couldn’t get hold of Layla.”
“Why did you want to do that?”
“She came into the atelier this morning and showed me her designs. Angela and Francesca were both there. We all love them, Giorgio.” Tina had recovered and her voice was stronger. “I want to sign her.”
“I didn’t call to discuss that,” he said cutting the topic off. His voice gentled. “Tina, I’ve heard Fabio is seeing another woman behind your back.”
“You’re wrong,” she said flatly. “And don’t change the subject. Layla is good and I want her.”
“I wish I didn’t have to be the one to tell you, but someone needs to. You’re not the best judge of character when it comes to men. Do you remember Tomaso?”
“Come on. I was sixteen!”
“Then there was that guitar player, I don’t even remember his name. But never mind them. Fabio’s using you. I hope you ha
ven’t given him money.”
There was a brief but telling pause. His heart sank. Tina could afford to be generous but that wasn’t the point.
“My love life is none of your business,” she said sulkily. “Stay out of it.”
“What have you given him?”
“I’m setting him up in his own studio if you must know. He’s a talented photographer and deserves a break. Now, let’s drop the subject, okay? I have to go.”
“So do I,” Giorgio said. “But first, did you have anything to do with Layla coming to my office today to ‘take me to lunch?’”
Again, the briefest of pauses. “It appears to me that you took her to lunch. And flew her out of Rome. Was that to get her away from me?” Tina went on the attack. “Did she have a say in the matter or did you steamroll her the way you do me and our sisters?”
“That’s not an answer. You’re being evasive.”
“And you’re being overprotective and controlling.” She sighed gustily. “Look, you got me at a bad time. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you on Sunday.”
“I don’t know if I’ll be here. I expected to celebrate my birthday at Mamma’s house, just a quiet family dinner,” he said, then added, “Whatever happens, do not bring Fabio. If I see him, I’ll break every bone in his body for the way he’s treating you.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Tina complained. “Goodbye, Giorgio.”
He hung up and rubbed his temples, his head bowed. She was seriously pissed at him, just as Layla had predicted, and he hadn’t even told her about the private investigator. Things were worse than he’d thought if Tina was setting Fabio up in a studio. Why wouldn’t she at least listen to him? The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.
Her hesitation confirmed his suspicion that Layla was playing him. Per tutti i santi. Why had he brought her here? He’d thought it would be fun to teach her a lesson but he’d been caught in his own trap. He wanted her more with every passing hour. He’d even let her think she’d put one over on him to stay for the football match. It was fun to dance around and play games, but part of him wished they could be straight with each other.
