PunishingPhoebe

by Kit Tunstall

  Punishing Phoebe

  Kit Tunstall

  Phoebe has been working for Luca only a short time, but their attraction is sizzling. Then Luca’s powerful father Salvatore discovers his son’s interest in Phoebe—and thinks her beneath him. Salvatore offers Phoebe money to disappear from Luca’s life, and desperation drives her to accept.

  After discovering what his father has done, Luca pays him back and goes after Phoebe. Hurt and revenge drive him to demand repayment—in his bed. He refuses to listen to her reasons and her own pride doesn’t help the situation. Luca tries to convince himself the only thing he’s interested in now is her body.

  Phoebe fervently wishes it was just amazing sex, instead of Love. Luca determinedly tries not to fall for a woman he can’t trust. Fate has other plans for them both.

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing

  www.ellorascave.com

  Punishing Phoebe

  ISBN 9781419933028

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Punishing Phoebe Copyright © 2011 Kit Tunstall

  Edited by Shannon Combs

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book publication July 2011

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

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  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

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  Punishing Phoebe

  Kit Tunstall

  Chapter One

  Phoebe reentered her office at Androtti’s clutching a bag of Chinese takeout from a nearby restaurant. A drizzling of rain had left her golden hair a mass of waves, and she ran a hand through it in an attempt to restore some semblance of order after setting lunch on her desk. She took time to remove her raincoat, stow her purse in the bottom drawer of her desk and check the voicemail for messages before picking up the bag and moving to Luca’s office. A soft tap elicited an “Enter” in his deep, lightly accented baritone, and she opened the door.

  Luca looked up, his eyes gleaming darkly behind the gold frames of his reading glasses. The amber glow from the lamp on his desk brought out rich blue highlights in his thick, black hair, making it difficult for Phoebe to focus on the task he had set for her. She stood stupidly in the doorway, unable to tear her eyes from her boss. A lock of hair flipped onto his forehead made her fingers itch to push it back, before proceeding down his face, to lightly caress the slight lines at his eyes. She would then move downward, across the strong bridge of his nose, to savor the firm texture of his full lips, before touching the slight cleft in his chin. Once her hands had explored the strong column of his throat, she would splay them across his chest as she sank onto his lap, her lips moist and ready to taste his….

  Luca clearing his throat brought her back to reality. With a shake of her head, Phoebe did her best to hide her embarrassment at slipping into the fantasy. She lifted the bag higher. “Fried rice and spicy beef, as requested.”

  He removed his glasses, setting them atop the file in one movement, even as he beckoned her forward with his other hand. Phoebe’s feet propelled her toward him, the heels of her shoes sinking into the frosted-gray carpet that was so plush it was probably more comfortable to sleep on than her own bed.

  Upon reaching his desk, she put down the bag, opened it, and began removing the boxes. Each one was marked, so it was a simple matter to separate his order from hers. Silence filled the room while she completed the task, and Phoebe tried to pretend she wasn’t aware of Luca’s eyes sweeping over her as she worked. It was a difficult charade to maintain, since she could almost feel his sensual gaze touching her, caressing her intimately.

  He wanted her as much as she wanted him. She was convinced they were both aware of the smoldering sexual tension that arced between them whenever they shared the same space. Phoebe knew enough about men to read the awareness in his eyes, to pick up on his subtle signals. She wasn’t naïve enough to think Luca lacked any experience with female companions, so she couldn’t delude herself into thinking he didn’t know she was equally attracted to him. The three months she had worked for him had only increased her attraction and, judging from recent behavior, his too.

  Phoebe’s hands trembled slightly when she picked up the two boxes containing her order, along with a plastic fork, preparing to return to her desk. She held her breath, tensing as Luca slid away from his desk to gain his feet. Her heart hammered in her ears when he walked toward her. She held breath escaped in a harsh exhalation when he brushed against her arm in the process of pointing to the cozy arrangement of a sofa, two chairs and a coffee table in the corner of his office.

  “Stay, have lunch with me.”

  Was she imagining the hint of smokiness in his tone? Phoebe tried to appear nonchalant when she asked, “Shall I fetch the recorder?” The only times he had asked her to join him before had entailed working lunches, where he dictated memos into the recorder, or they discussed various strategies for dealing with a particular situation.

  Luca shook his head, scooped up his containers, and walked toward the sofa. His broad shoulders and lean waist, emphasized by the expertly tailored suit, drew her eyes, and it was all she could do not to fling herself at him.

  With the fervent hope lunch was only foreplay, that finally some progress would take place today, leading them toward the seemingly inevitable affair, Phoebe followed. Luca had selected a middle cushion on the long sofa, and she sat beside him. The distance she left was enough to be provocative, but not completely blatant.

  It took seconds to open her boxes, leaving her uncomfortably aware of his proximity and her lack of sparkling conversation. Being so close to him wasn’t that unusual. After all, they worked together every day, usually in the confines of this office. But it was different today. Tension hung between them, and awareness of each other, of how easy it would be to lock the door and make love.

  Or maybe she was imagining it all, Phoebe wondered with a frown when Luca leaned back and began eating. His posture suggested relaxation, without a hint of tension or suppressed awareness of her as more than his personal assistant. Had she manufactured in her own mind the exchanged glances that spoke of mutual longing? Was she so desperate for this man’s touch that she was allowing herself to believe he was equally needy for hers?

  Second-guessing her interpretation of his signals, Phoebe absently picked at steamed rice. As the silence stretched, her confidence grew shakier by the moment, until she was convinced she had imagined any sort of interest from her boss.

  Panic to
ok hold, and she buried the fork into the box and scooted away from him, ready to launch herself from the sofa and as far away from him as possible. Her face burned with humiliation, and she was desperate to escape. Silently, Phoebe cursed Luca when he finally decided to break the silence.

  “What is it?” As he asked the question, Luca grasped her forearm, his palm burning through the thin layer of silk separating them.

  Phoebe gasped when he rubbed a slow circle across her skin while turning her to face him. Her knees rested against his with the new position, and she had nowhere to look except into his eyes. They smoldered with banked desire. Her lips parted in response to his when she saw them forming a bow. Anticipation quickened her pulse and she arched forward, lifting her chin to facilitate the first meeting of their mouths. She could already taste Luca, had done so in countless nighttime fantasies, and it took every ounce of self-control to allow him to set the pace. He would appreciate that, being Italian. As modern as he was in business, he could be equally traditional in his dealings with the “fairer” sex.

  A frown pursed her lips before she forced herself to dismiss thoughts of any other woman with Luca. Only she was here with him now, about to share a kiss she knew would be magical.

  His head lowered at a steady pace and she waited impatiently. Her eyes closed when he got close enough for his breath to wash across her cheek. She curled her hands into fists in her lap to resist the urge to bury them into his hair and drag his mouth to hers.

  Just as his lips were close enough for her to flick out her tongue to taste, the door opened without so much as a knock. A sound akin to a sob of frustration escaped Phoebe, drowned out by the mechanical hum of Salvatore Androtti’s wheelchair as it glided across the thick carpet.

  His dark eyes raked over her, leaving Phoebe exposed and raw, feeling as though he had measured her worth in a single glance and found her lacking. She leapt to her feet, counseling herself to act as though nothing unusual had been about to happen, even as she did her best to avoid the cold gaze of Luca’s father. “If you don’t need me for anything else, Mr. Androtti, I’ll leave you.”

  Luca got to his feet slowly, his demeanor one of complete calm, as opposed to the one she feared she projected—guilt, though she had done nothing wrong. “That will be all, Ms. Sanders.”

  She didn’t miss the slight emphasis he placed on her surname. He seemed to want to remind her they had been on a first-name basis since her second week of employment. Was he exasperated by the way she had reacted to his father’s unexpected entrance?

  Phoebe forced herself to walk steadily toward the door, holding her breath when she made it past Salvatore with little more than a sideways glance and dip of her head. Freedom from his contemptuous gaze was within sight when his voice froze her in place. “Just a moment, Miss Sanders. I would like you to stay.” Unlike Luca, his father still bore a heavy Italian accent, but each word was audible, though issued coldly.

  Somehow she swallowed the lump in her throat and managed a brittle smile when she turned to face Salvatore. Had she been braver, she would have pointed out she didn’t answer to him, but all she managed was a limp, “Of course, sir.”

  It was as if he had read her unspoken thoughts. “How long have you been in my employ?”

  “Three months.”

  Salvatore transferred his haughty gaze from her to his son. “You have lowered your standards, Luca.”

  Phoebe took a step back in reaction to the denouncement, even as Luca moved toward his father, bridging the distance between them until he stood less than a foot behind her.

  “You have no knowledge of what I look for in a personal assistant, nor of Phoebe’s qualifications, Papà, so leave the hiring of my assistants to me,” he said in a neutral tone, though his words had been a reproof of sorts. “Now, what brings you barging into my office?”

  His father ignored the light reprimand and attempted a turn of topic. “When I agreed to let you step in to my position, I expected you to maintain the company as I would have done. A pretty face is no excuse for a lapse in judgment.”

  Phoebe gasped, but Luca countered in a calm tone. “You hardly allowed me to take over willingly, Papà.” It was no secret Salvatore’s stroke had left him incapacitated for months, forcing him to let his son finally have some real power in the company or risk losing everything to their competitors. She knew from Luca—and from the old man’s own behavior—that three years later, he was still bitter about no longer being in charge.

  When the old man burst into a string of Italian, Luca’s cheeks flushed red, and a hint of annoyance appeared in his expression. She held her breath, wondering if she would witness an explosion of anger. Luca had always been even-tempered and basically good-humored with her, but he had a reputation for being cold and calculating in business, with a hard edge reserved only for those who were dishonest in their dealings with the Androtti Corporation.

  His voice was soft, with only a subtle sibilance revealing the depths of his emotions. “Would you please leave us, Phoebe?”

  She might have remembered to nod as she scurried from the office, carefully avoiding Salvatore’s eyes. Had the other man tried to call her back, she would have ignored his summons this time, having no desire to witness the argument between the two of them.

  Out of habit, she closed the door behind her and went to her desk. Phoebe sank into the chair, staring worriedly at the mahogany barrier separating her from Luca and his father. In the three months she had worked for Luca, twice before had she overheard him and his father arguing, both times via the phone, and had been privy only to Luca’s side. Since he usually conducted such conversations with Salvatore in short bursts of angry Italian, she had no idea what they argued about.

  Today was no different, except she could hear Salvatore’s voice responding to his even tones. It carried over Luca’s, leaving no doubt to the extent of his rage. His pitch escalated with every exchange, until she could hear each syllable he spoke. If she were fluent in Italian, she would have known everything he said.

  Not that I need a translator, she thought with a grimace. There was no mystery regarding the reason behind their exchange. Her. Clearly, the old man didn’t approve of her, but Luca was refusing to kowtow to his demands to get rid of her. At least Phoebe hoped she was correctly interpreting the argument. Was it silly to have so much faith in him, to believe so firmly he would defend her to his father?

  The office door opening, followed by Salvatore’s chair whirring through it, broke her musings. She looked up, flinching at the derogatory glare the old man shot her way. Hands clutched in her lap, she stared at him without speaking as he negotiated his way toward the door that would lead him from their office suite to the main hall. She held her breath as he neared the door, daring to hope she would escape any further exchanges with him.

  At the doorway, his glower deepened. “Do not get too comfortable behind that desk, Miss Sanders.”

  When he was gone, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was difficult to take his parting words seriously when she knew Luca must have refused to dismiss her. After her last disaster of a job, she couldn’t stand the thought of being fired, forced to seek new employment with an even larger gap in her work history.

  That, and she didn’t want to leave so abruptly, without finding out how things would turn out between herself and Luca. Phoebe groaned at the small voice that insisted on pointing out such thoughts. She schooled her expression into one of professional detachment when Luca entered her office.

  The tense arrangement of his features suggested he still bore anger from the exchange with his father, but he sounded calm as ever when he spoke. “As soon as you’ve finished lunch, I’d like the Giovanni file on my desk.”

  “Right away.” Phoebe managed a weak smile. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

  He nodded, his expression softening slightly. “As have I.” With a single nod, he returned to his office.

  She watched him go, attempting to suppress her disappointment. T
hey had been so close to acting on their attraction. If not for Salvatore’s intervention, they might be entangled in a passionate embrace this very second.

  A long sigh escaped her when she left her desk to fetch the requested file. Maybe it was for the best. She knew firsthand how difficult it could be to work alongside someone whose attraction was out in the open. She didn’t need that kind of scenario again. Yes, she had learned her lesson about office relationships working with Danny Seaton.

  That treacherous voice in the back of her mind insisted on tormenting her again by posing a question she was unable to banish from her mind for the rest of the afternoon. If she really intended to avoid an affair with Luca, why was she still imagining what it would be like to make love with her boss?

  * * * * *

  Phoebe hadn’t realized how on-edge she had been until she left Androtti’s later that afternoon. As soon as her sensible sedan cleared the underground parking garage she exhaled and her stiff shoulders relaxed. The events of the afternoon had cast a pall over both of them. She just hadn’t allowed herself to acknowledge the new level of tension between her and Luca until safely away from his presence.

  She pointed her car in the direction of her sister’s dorm, though all she really wanted to do was go home to a hot bath and try to pretend the day hadn’t turned out as it had. She didn’t want to feel uncomfortable around Luca, but he had seemed to avoid her for the remainder of the afternoon. If she had to identify the reason, she might have tentatively settled on embarrassment from Salvatore’s behavior, but that wasn’t quite right. Had she imagined the flashes of guilt she seemed to read in his expression the few times work had necessitated they interact?

  As she approached the two-story building one block from Anya’s college campus, Phoebe tried to force the thoughts from her mind. Her distress would transmit easily to her sister, and she didn’t need to pick up on her negative emotions. Anya needed positive support for the forthcoming doctor’s appointment.