Making Over the Billionaire (Italian Connection)

by Joan Kilby

  “I would but I’ve used up all my resources. I can’t afford to subsidize myself any longer.” She played with the curly hair on his chest. “What would you do if Tina just went ahead and put me under contract on her own?”

  He made a dismissive gesture. “She couldn’t. She, Francesca, and Angela don’t have the authority to make major decisions without a meeting of the board of which I am head. Every decision has to be okayed by me.”

  A sick feeling settled in her stomach. Clearly Tina had been too optimistic when she’d promised her a contract. Unless she’d never really been serious about that… “Not even if it’s a decision that affects only her part of the business?”

  “There’s no such thing. Every part of the Borlenghi empire has repercussions for the rest of us. If she takes a loss as a result of a bad investment or hiring the wrong person then the corporation suffers. I have ultimate control. That’s why the Borlenghi Group is so strong.”

  “What if something were to happen to you?” Layla asked. “Who would be in charge then?”

  A small frown appeared as he apparently tried to get his head around a world where he wasn’t Atlas, holding the world on his shoulders. “Tina is next in line. You’re right, it’s a worry, especially with Fabio on the scene. I need to amend the corporation’s constitution to insert posthumous directives for my successors.”

  “Oh my God!” Layla threw herself backward on the bed, arms outstretched. “You’re a freaking dictator. Napoleon Bonaparte has nothing on you.”

  “I’m good at being in charge,” he said. “And I like it.”

  “You work too hard.”

  “Sometimes,” he conceded. “But that’s the price I willingly pay for being the head of a global empire.”

  He looked like an emperor, even naked on a rumpled bed, with his raven hair tousled and his eyes dark with desire and fatigue and the relentless workings of his mind.

  She couldn’t change him. No one could. His spirit was too strong for ordinary mortals like her. Oh, she might soften him a little, get him to take a day off now and then, but fundamentally he was who he was, and he always would be. Proud, capricious, mostly benevolent, but ruthless when he needed to be. Passionate, generous and with a vision that saw far beyond the horizon. He was misguided about his control of the company but only out of the best of intentions.

  “I have a question for you,” Giorgio said. “Why did you put all your hope into the House of Borlenghi? You are someone who does her homework. You must have known we don’t hire foreigners.”

  “I like what the House of Borlenghi stands for. Quality. Tradition. Stability.”

  “The very things I’m fighting to preserve by keeping the company all Italian. Not that your lingerie isn’t of excellent quality. It’s fine enough to be part of the atelier. It’s just not the right provenance.” He paused. “By not considering other fashion houses I think you set yourself up to fail.”

  “Why would I do that?” Layla asked. “After all the work I put into this, all the money…” She fell silent, thinking of all the hours she’d poured over Internet articles on all the Borlenghis. The photos of them holidaying together, the stories of how they helped each other, and celebrated every holiday together. She’d fallen in love with the whole damn family. Maybe she really was a crazy stalker lady.

  She’d never thought she would actually get to know them. Now that she had, it was going to be very hard to leave. She would miss Giorgio the most but also Tina. His other sisters were awesome and from what she’d read his mom, Isabella, seemed pretty cool, too.

  “Family,” she said quietly. “That’s what I like about the House of Borlenghi. I like the way you’re a team, the way you work together and play together. I don’t want to work for a big impersonal corporation.”

  “Now you know the truth behind the façade,” Giorgio said bitterly.

  “It’s not a façade,” Layla said. “You guys have your differences. You’re passionate people so you get excited and go over the top. But you love each other. And you look out for each other.”

  He hesitated. “You could stay in Rome. I could give you a business loan, get you set up.”

  She stilled, not quite sure what he was suggesting. ”I have no money left. Zilch. Nada. I couldn’t repay you for, like, decades. Why would you give me a loan?”

  His gaze moved from her eyes to her mouth and back to her eyes. “I wonder what we might be like together if neither of us had an agenda. If we were together because we wanted to be. I could rent an apartment for you.”

  Oh, God, she was so tempted. It was almost everything she’d wanted, bar a contract with the House of Borlenghi. But what he was offering was for her to be his mistress. Until she was earning money—if she earned money—she would be completely dependent upon him, subject to his good will and his whims. Under his control.

  She wanted more than that. She wanted his love. The scenario he was suggesting was a trifle to him. For her, it meant abandoning her whole life and acting on the whim of someone who didn’t love her. Who maybe couldn’t love her.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Your offer is extremely generous. But I can’t accept. I have to go back to Seattle.”

  He cupped her cheek in his palm. “Why, cara?”

  She closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of his touch. Their fling was as hot as the blazing Italian sun and as brief as her flirtation with the Rome fashion scene. Soon it would be over as quickly as it had begun.

  She was falling in love with him, intensely and irrevocably, despite his controlling ways. How could this have happened again?

  The difference was, what she felt for Giorgio was a million times stronger than her feelings for Richard. Oh, she didn’t believe Giorgio would try to stifle her career ambitions, but he would find some other way to make her conform to his wishes.

  Her heart would probably be broken forever because there was no chance Giorgio would love her back, not in any way that would make her happy. He was wedded already—to his drive to do what he thought was right. Gods didn’t settle down in domestic harmony. They plundered and moved on. All she would have when she left Rome for Seattle would be memories of a few magical days.

  “What is it?” He crawled across the bed to sit beside her and stroke her hair back from her face. “You look sad all of a sudden. What are you thinking?”

  “I’m fine.” She wanted their last night together to be joyful, not sad. Rolling on top of him, she wriggled until her hips fit perfectly against his. “Are we going to talk all night or are we making a run for the Guinness Book of World Records?”

  Instantly he hardened beneath her. She squirmed in pleasure, brushing aside the grief she was already feeling at their imminent parting. Nothing could be allowed to spoil their last night together.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Giorgio woke with the sun shining through the curtains over the porthole. Layla’s richly hued red hair spread across the pillow next to his. She breathed slowly and deeply, still asleep, her naked body curled beneath the tangled white sheet.

  Lightly, he brushed a stray hair off her cheek. She was so beautiful. In only a few days she’d gotten under his skin in a way no other woman ever had, not even Paola, to whom he’d been married for five years.

  In a few days she would leave Italy. How was he going to let her go? Yet he must. Her home was in Seattle. Of course she would want to go back there. Unless, he allowed Tina to give her a contract. She would visit Rome regularly then, maybe even live there part time.

  But he couldn’t make an exception to the rules merely for his personal pleasure. He would lose his family’s respect and that of his employees. Layla had accused him of being a dictator. Someone had to be the guiding force. He was that man. His position as head of the family and the business was his destiny, both a boon and a curse.

  His marriage had foundered because the company had to come first. He didn’t want to fail Layla the way he’d failed Paola, although Layla was different. She had her own ambi
tions and would understand more than Paola, who only wanted the luxurious lifestyle and not the hard work that went into achieving it. But Layla wanted a more balanced life. She deserved a man who could spend time with her.

  He would have more time if he did as everyone wanted and divested authority to his sisters. But they didn’t have the experience he did, or the overarching knowledge he’d built up over years of attending to every detail.

  And Tina’s liaison with Fabio sent shivers down his back. If she could be so blind as to fall for such a creep then what did that say about her judgment in other arenas?

  Angela and Francesca were even younger, twenty-three and twenty-four respectively. They knew their businesses but little about the company as a whole.

  No, it wouldn’t work.

  Maybe in time, but not now. Not in a time frame that would help Layla. He had no choice but to let her go. It was for her own good.

  Her eyes opened, dazzlingly blue. Smiling, she leaned up to kiss him and the sheet slipped down, revealing her bare breasts. “Happy birthday.”

  “Thank you.” He’d almost forgotten he turned twenty-nine today. He caressed her and dipped his head to draw her nipple into his mouth. To his satisfaction, it turned rosy and peaked, glistening with moisture. His morning erection turned harder, and he nuzzled her neck. “My mother and sisters will arrive soon. They like to get here early.”

  “Then I suggest we don’t waste time talking about world affairs,” she murmured, sliding beneath him.

  “I like the way you think.” Last night had been hot, wild, and passionate. This morning, he made love to her slow and lazily, taking time to build her arousal, noting what made her bite her lip or close her eyes and gasp with pleasure. He took inventory of everything, from the way her eyes darkened when he slid inside her to how her hips moved with his in perfect rhythm. When she was gone, he wanted to be able to remember every detail of their time together.

  The climax wasn’t as explosive as last night but it was just as intense in its own way, subsuming his mind, body, and soul into a powerful unity. He felt her come and kept moving, drawing a second and a third orgasm from her. Her hips lifted and her legs clung, her face slack with bliss as she rode out the aftershocks. Only then did he allow himself to find his own release.

  The last thing he remembered before he fell asleep was holding her while she lazily stroked his back. When he awoke again, Layla’s side of the bed was empty and the clock read eleven-thirty a.m. Up on deck, he could hear multiple female voices all talking at once. Mamma and his sisters had arrived.

  He shut his eyes against a constriction in his chest. This would be his first birthday on the yacht without Leo and Papa. He’d never returned, hoping that when enough time had elapsed, the pain would ease. Now he understood that he’d only delayed the pain, not eliminated it. There was no way around it. He had to go through the grief. Layla had helped him begin to put his brother’s and father’s death in perspective. He wasn’t quite there but it was a start.

  He showered and dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, enjoying being casual and comfortable. Somewhere along the line he’d forgotten even that simple pleasure. All credit to Layla for reminding him that it was good to slow down once in a while.

  The women were seated beneath the shade sail, sipping on iced drinks and nibbling snacks. Gaily wrapped presents were piled on the table. Mamma was plump and motherly despite her chic white linen and neat chestnut brown chignon and dispensed her opinion volubly. Tina, Francesca, and Angela held forth with equal spirit, their conversation punctuated with gestures and laughter. Layla sat at one end of the table, watching and listening with amused interest.

  “Buongiorno, tutti.” Giorgio embraced each in greeting, beginning with his mother and ending with Layla. He pulled out a chair and sat next to her. “I apologize for anything my family may have said,” he told her. “They are brazen women who delight in embarrassing me whenever possible.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Her eyes danced with laughter, making him wonder what his sisters had said about him. “I’m enjoying your family immensely.”

  “Layla has just been telling us how you kidnapped her,” Mamma said.

  He caught Layla hiding a smirk behind her hand. “It was hard to convince her to stay for the weekend, but I managed.”

  “But where are your manners, Gino?” Mamma scolded good-naturedly. “Sleeping in when you have guests.”

  “Yes, that doesn’t sound like you,” Tina continued the mock-attack. “Why weren’t you working?”

  “I was tired after a late night.”

  All eyes turned to Layla. She put her hands up, laughing. “Hey, don’t blame me. I got up early and went shopping in Naples this morning.”

  “Never mind, we’re here to celebrate with Giorgio, so no more scolding,” his mother said. “Now sit down and open your presents. We’ve been waiting ages for you.” She handed him an oblong box wrapped in yellow paper. “This is from me.”

  He peeled off the wrapping and lifted the lid. Inside was a platinum and gold sextant, a reminder of his youthful passion for sailing and navigating by the sun and the stars. “Grazie, Mamma. It’s very finely made and a noteworthy addition to my collection of nautical instruments.”

  “It’s a working machine. For you to use.”

  His days of leisurely sailing were a thing of the past, but he didn’t like to burst her bubble. “That’s a wonderful idea.”

  From Tina, he received his usual gift, box seat season tickets to the Rome Opera, which he loved but was never able to attend. “Mille grazie. You know how I adore the opera.”

  Francesca gave him a set of used golf clubs that had clearly once been top of the line. Alas, again it was a game he never found time to play. He raised an eyebrow over the scuffed and worn condition of the clubs.

  “They belonged to JFK,” Francesca explained and added pointedly, “they’re still usable, too.”

  “John F. Kennedy? That is really special,” Giorgio said. “I’ll treasure them.”

  Angela gave him a week at a luxury ski resort in Whistler, including equipment rental and lift tickets. Each gift harked back to shared activities and relaxation with family and friends. It was hard to remember ever having the time for all these things. But he was touched that his family had been so thoughtful in their choices. He should try harder to make time for them. But with his workload it simply wasn’t feasible.

  Layla cleared her throat and handed him a soft package. “It’s nothing fancy.”

  “I hadn’t expected anything from you. When did you find time to get me a present?”

  “This morning, while you were sleeping. Poor baby, you were all tuckered out,” she added with a wink.

  He tore open the wrapping with no idea what to expect. He held up a football jersey in pale blue. The Naples team’s home colors. Images of the night of the football match flashed back to him—seeing Antonio after so many years, cheering in the stands like the fanatical fan he was, making love to Layla…

  A lump formed in his throat. This was crazy. He didn’t usually get choked up about sentimental things. He tugged his T-shirt off over his head and put on the jersey, standing up to show everyone. “It fits perfectly. All I need is a football.”

  “Soccer ball,” she corrected with a smile. “You can wear it to a game when you’re down here next for a break.” His mother and sisters nodded.

  “I can see I’m outnumbered and outfoxed,” he said. “However I will be gracious and assure you all that in the next year I will attempt to sail, play golf, go to the opera, slalom down a ski hill in Canada, and attend at least one more football game in Napoli.”

  “No ‘attempts,’ Gino. Just do it,” Tina teased.

  He made his way around the circle of women, kissing and hugging them. When he came to Layla, instead of a peck on both cheeks he gave her a lingering kiss on the mouth that brought a deep rose blush to her cheeks. Angela gave a whoop, Mamma sighed, and Tina and Francesca exchanged ribald comments
.

  He straightened, leaving his hand on Layla’s shoulder and glanced at his watch. “It’s time to head out for lunch at Antonio’s restaurant. I’ll let Luigi know we’re ready to go.”

  The women left the afterdeck. His mother and Layla went below to their staterooms to freshen up. Angela and Francesca went inside the main cabin. Tina was waiting for him outside on the deck when he returned from the bridge.

  “The other girls and I need to talk to you, Gino. About the business.”

  “I need to talk to you about Fabio. Where is he? I thought you were bringing him.”

  “He’s delayed in Rome. His mother is ill. He’s meeting us at the restaurant,” Tina said. “Angela, Francesca and I—”

  He lifted his hand in an impatient gesture. “I’ve told you, Tina, there is no discussion.”

  Tina pushed her hands through her hair. “You have to talk to us. Layla went to a lot of trouble to—”

  He stilled. “To what?”

  Tina clamped her mouth shut. “Nothing.”

  “No, you were going to say something.” He took a step forward. “Did Layla deliberately get me to stay, not for my birthday celebration as she said, but so that my three darling sisters could ambush me with their demands?”

  “Don’t be angry. We all want what’s best for the company. And for you.” Tina gave him a shrewd glance. “Don’t forget, you brought Layla to the yacht. That wasn’t in the plan.”

  The plan. Her words were like a blow to his chest. Even though he’d suspected from the first that Layla was collaborating with his sisters, it still pained him to have it confirmed. “What was the plan—to conduct your little intervention at her house? You ladies are so transparent. I figured that out within ten minutes of her arriving at my office.”

  “Clearly you two have had a good time,” Tina said. “So what’s the problem?”

  “The problem is that she deceived me.” He paced away and leaned over the railing, absolutely gutted. In the beginning it hadn’t mattered. That was before they’d laughed together, confided in each other, revealed their vulnerabilities, talked of their dreams and ambitions. Before he’d fallen for her like a seabird plummeting from the sky into the sea…