by Kit Tunstall
Anya made an ambiguous sound. “Are you serious?”
“I’m sorry, kiddo, but I have no choice.” That was an understatement. “Do you want to come home and return later for treatment?”
After a hesitation, Anya said, “That doesn’t make sense. I just don’t know if I can do this alone.” She sounded on the verge of tears.
Phoebe’s stomach cramped in reaction. “I have faith in you, Anya. You’re going to do just fine.” She forced herself to sound cheerful. “You know I’ll be back just as soon as I can.”
“I know.” She cleared her throat. “Maybe I’ll be done with the program by the time you can get away from work again.”
“Maybe.” Just how long would Luca expect her to play his revenge game? When would he decide she had paid him back sufficiently by using her body as payment?
“I love you, Phoebe.”
“I love you too.” She set the phone back on the handset gently, her fingers lingering on the device for a moment, wishing she could take back the phone call she’d just made, along with the reason for having to make it.
As she turned, Phoebe bumped into Luca. Gasping with surprise, she clutched her chest. “You startled me.”
“Sorry to interrupt such an intimate conversation.” His eyes glowed darkly with anger.
“Luca—”
“Get dressed. Our plane leaves soon.” He turned his back on her, and his posture communicated he wasn’t open to a discussion regarding what he thought he’d heard.
With a small shake of her head, she turned away from him. Futility weighed on her, making it almost impossible to summon the energy required to shower and dress. There was an irreparable breach between them now, and all the sex in the world wasn’t going to heal it. Any hopes she’d had of a meaningful relationship had died the moment she’d accepted Salvatore’s offer. Yet, what other choice could she have made? The worst part was Luca would never know her reasons because he refused to hear them—not that he would believe anything she told him now.
An hour later, Phoebe sat beside Luca on his private jet, pretending to read a magazine she’d found on the table. He was absorbed in a stack of paperwork probably related to the Giovanni merger. Other than the occasional brooding glance cast in her direction, he might as well have been set in stone.
Her fingers itched to reach for her cell phone to call Anya, but she hesitated. Even if the call would go through, she didn’t want to speak in front of Luca. A part of her liked having him think there was another man in her life. It made her feel safe and protected to have a buffer between them, however flimsy. As long as an imaginary lover stood between them, he would maintain an emotional distance. It could be vital to her self-preservation and might be the only thing to keep her from doing something stupid, like falling in love with him.
He abruptly closed the file as they neared the private landing strip. “We’ll go straight to your apartment.”
She arched a brow. “I’m a little…sore from last night.”
“So you can pack,” he said in a cool tone.
Phoebe frowned. “Pack? For what? Are we going on a business trip?”
Luca opened his briefcase to place the file neatly inside. “You’re moving in with me.”
Her mouth dropped open and she closed it so quickly her teeth clicked together. “What? Are you crazy?”
“I’m not letting you out of my sight again.” He looked up from the briefcase to watch her with narrowed eyes. “I don’t trust you not to run off again. You obviously have a lover in Boston. Who knows where else you might have men waiting for you?”
“I’m not a whore.” She spoke loudly enough to worry the crew in the cockpit had heard her, even through the door separating it from the main cabin.
Luca snorted. “What else do you call a woman who trades her body for money?” His cool façade cracked slightly, revealing a hint of anger and something more. “How many other men have you done this to, Phoebe? Was Seaton’s family the first you extorted money from, or just the latest?” He shook his head. “What drove you to behave like this?”
Anger warred with pain, eventually winning. She glared at him. “You’ve obviously already figured it all out. Why should I offer any explanations now?”
“Why indeed, when there can be no justification for your actions?”
“Precisely.” She straightened her jacket. “I’m not moving in with you. You’ll just have to trust me to keep up my end of the deal.”
“But I don’t trust you. You will be moving in with me because, as much as you hate to admit it, your body wants mine with a marked lack of reason.” He seemed confident she would be taking up residence with him by the end of the day.
With a mutinous set of her mouth, she said, “I am not leaving my home. It will be a cold day in hell before I give up my autonomy to be at your beck and call.”
Two hours later, Phoebe followed Luca into his sumptuous penthouse apartment in a twelve-story building in mid-town. A chill ran down her spine, making her wonder if hell had indeed frozen over.
Chapter Four
It was strange to be back at her desk less than twenty-four hours later, as if nothing had changed. Yet, everything had changed. She now knew Luca as intimately as anyone could know another, but knew nothing about his heart. He had closed it to her. The only thing she could take freely from him was his body, and while she enjoyed the sex, she wanted more. Once upon a time, she had dreamed of a relationship with Luca that included making love. Now, they had a pale imitation of what might have been, built solely on lies, misconceptions and sex. It was physically satisfying but left her emotionally bereft.
Her phone buzzed. “Did you find that file yet?” Luca asked, sounding impatient.
She winced, realizing while lost in her reverie at least fifteen minutes had passed since he asked for some key paperwork that had been missing from the Giovanni packet. “Just now. It was misfiled.” Better to look incompetent than to appear weepy. It was bad enough she was emotionally vested in the travesty they were acting out. He didn’t need to know she felt anything remotely sentimental.
As if the day wasn’t already bad enough, the sound of Salvatore’s wheelchair entering her office let her know it was about to get worse. She pretended not to see the old man as she lifted the folder and turned toward Luca’s office.
He dashed her hopes of avoiding a confrontation with his first spiteful statement. “Now you’re his whore, aren’t you?”
She took a deep breath and tried counting to ten. Before she even made it to five, he continued.
“It sickens me to know you’re sharing his bed.” A wheezing laugh escaped him. “However, I am comforted to know the affair will be short-lived. I won’t ever have to worry about him trying to marry you now that he knows what you are.”
Phoebe whirled around, glaring down at him. “He knows what you are too—a manipulative, hateful old man who will stop at nothing to control those around him.” Somehow, she managed to steady her voice. “You might have opened his eyes to my so-called flaws, but at what cost to your relationship with him?”
Salvatore snorted. “As if a whore like you could come between my son and me. You are trash, pure and simple. Not a cent to your name that you’ve earned the old-fashioned way, no breeding of which to speak and nothing to redeem you. I’d do what I did a thousand times over. My only regret is I didn’t personally ensure you left New York as I had planned.”
“You—” Whatever might have flown from her tongue halted with Luca’s arrival. He strode out of his office, glaring at both of them.
“Enough. I won’t have you two behaving this way, especially not in the office.” His disapproving gaze alternated between the two of them, making her feel like a recalcitrant child. “What if a client witnessed this display?”
She swallowed a ball of anger and managed a nod. “You’re right. I apologize, Luca.” Phoebe didn’t look at Salvatore.
He didn’t bother to wait for his father to issue an apology, ap
parently realizing it would be an exercise in futility. Instead, he took the file from her before turning fully to his father. “What brings you by, Papà?”
“I wanted to confirm you will be at the house for dinner this evening.”
Luca nodded. “Of course. It’s been on my calendar for a month. I will be bringing a guest.” He sounded bland, but his watchful gaze seemed to dare Salvatore to make an issue out of his statement.
Salvatore’s gaze contained malicious pleasure when it narrowed on Phoebe. “That is fine. I shall warn the housekeeper to set another place…and secure the silver.”
Phoebe let the comment slide, somehow resisting the urge to retaliate. She prided herself on being mature and responsible, but it was difficult to maintain her dignity in the face of Salvatore’s unreasoning hatred. To her relief, he departed with only a brief word of parting for Luca.
Once he had gone, she turned to Luca. “I assume you were referring to me as your guest?”
“Of course.” His smile revealed nothing. “I did say I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
She shook her head. “I have no desire to spend an evening in your father’s company. I’ve heard all the insults I can take the past few days. There’s no question he doesn’t want me there.” But that hadn’t seemed the case. Salvatore had acquiesced without even an argument. His easy acceptance of her at his evening function was disconcerting, considering just how much he hated her.
He put his hand on the small of her back to guide her toward his office. “Relax. There will be others attending, including Capro Giovanni. It’s about time you put a face with the name, especially since he’ll be taking up a corner office by the end of the year.”
“If it were just business, I wouldn’t hesitate to agree, but I can’t do it.”
He lifted a brow. “You act like you have a choice in the matter. It is my wish to have you at my side, and my wish is your command.”
She had to bite down on her tongue to express her opinion of his attitude. “Yes, Master,” she said tightly. “What else is your wish? Shall I appear bound in chains, kneeling at your feet?”
“That idea has merit,” he said in a smoky tone. “But not for Papà’s dinner party. A suitable dress will do.” Luca swooped forward, capturing her mouth in a quick kiss that didn’t last nearly long enough. As soon as her stiffened muscles relaxed, telling him of her loss of resistance, he withdrew. “In the meantime, I’ll settle for coffee and your excellent dictation skills, Ms. Sanders.”
Before she could retort, Luca disappeared back into his office, leaving her seething with anger, but having no outlet to express it. She had to settle for tearing the top sheet from her steno pad, shredding it into large pieces, and tossing it at the trashcan before stomping into his office. He could get his own damn coffee.
* * * * *
She should have known he would think of everything. Phoebe grimaced at the box lying on the king-size bed she now shared with Luca. It represented the end of her only reason for skipping the evening. Bearing the name of a famous boutique, it couldn’t be anything but a dress for the evening. He had anticipated she either wouldn’t have anything suitable, or would try to pretend she didn’t, and had countered before she could make that move.
He didn’t say a word, nor did he appear to be gloating as he entered the bedroom, holding something at his side. “I took the initiative to order you a gown for this evening, just in case you didn’t have anything appropriate.”
“So I see.” She glared at the offending box, knowing in other circumstances she would have thrilled at wearing something from that designer, especially if it was for a function attended on Luca’s arm. If only things were different…
She cut off the thought with a sigh, knowing she would have to accept things would never be the same again. There could be no naïve delight in the gift, or tonight’s outing, because both served another purpose, having little to do with her. Phoebe had spent the afternoon thinking about why Luca might drag her to a dinner party hosted by his father, concluding he could only be doing it to torture her and annoy Salvatore. He could torture her without the fancy accoutrements, but by dressing her up to fit a high-society standard, he was throwing it in Salvatore’s face that she was trash, strewn in the midst of the beautiful people. For the evening, it was her job to clean up nicely.
“Aren’t you going to open it?”
He seemed eager for her reaction, making Phoebe’s stomach churn with apprehension. What if she had misjudged his intentions? If she opened the box to find a revealing, tasteless dress, it would mean he intended to parade her in front of his friends the way he saw her. What other reason could there be for his anxiousness?
With reluctant fingers, she opened the white bow on the black box, telling herself she wouldn’t allow any trace of emotion to cross her face regardless of what she found inside. Despite her determination to remain stoic, she thought she might have smiled briefly upon tracing her fingers over the name embossed on the box with real gold thread.
A gasp of delight escaped her when she lifted out the red dress. It was long, designed to fall to her feet, with a single shoulder strap. Strategically placed sequins gave it a sparkle appropriate for evening wear, but it was a basically a simple design. She knew it would be lovely, giving her an elegant appearance.
Her face fell when she remembered she was to be a tool used to irk Salvatore and nothing more. What pleasure she’d felt at seeing the dress faded, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. She looked up at Luca. “May I have privacy to prepare, or do you insist on hovering beside me every minute of the day?”
For a second, his expression reflected disappointment. “I will leave you to it.” He set a box on the dresser with a hard thump. “The salesclerk must have included this with the order. I assume it will accent the dress in some manner.”
Phoebe had the urge to apologize, sensing she might have hurt his feelings. Before she could act on the impulse, he had left the room. She debated about following him and issuing an apology, but ultimately decided she must have been mistaken. What she had interpreted as disappointment had probably been because she had dashed any hopes he might have had of a pre-party tumble in the massive bed.
A smaller box revealed a pair of red stilettos that made her gulp at contemplating walking in them. They were higher than any she’d worn before.
Remembering the box he’d dropped on the dresser, she walked over to open it. Her mouth opened in an O of surprise. The salesclerk had excellent taste. He or she had included a pendant on a white gold chain. A large ruby dominated the pendant, while small diamonds around the diameter emphasized the ruby’s sparkle.
With a shake of her head, she returned the necklace to the dresser, aware that time was ticking away. After a quick shower, she applied makeup, wound her hair into an elegant chignon and slipped on undergarments. With a shiver of anticipation, she imagined Luca removing the garter belt and stockings later that night.
The shoes and dress were a perfect fit. To her surprise, the shoes were more comfortable than they’d appeared in the box, though the height was challenging. Upon examining herself in the full-length mirror in his walk-in closet, she decided her original assessment had been correct. The dress was sophisticated, not tawdry, and it made her look suitable for high society.
Phoebe returned to the bedroom and removed the necklace from the jeweler’s box. Her hands shook so badly that she couldn’t fasten the clasp, and she sat on the edge of the bed, breathing deeply. Tonight promised to be an ordeal, but she had to get through it. Nervousness served no productive function. She had to get herself together.
The pep talk did little to ease her nerves, and she still couldn’t fasten the necklace. With a long sigh, she got to her feet and left his bedroom, in search of her boss. She found Luca in the apartment’s living room, a crystal glass on the table beside him. He appeared to be in deep thought and his unguarded expression revealed several emotions she had no time to analyze before he became aw
are of her presence. His face lost all trace of emotion. “That was fast,” he said, getting to his feet.
She shrugged. “I can’t get this thing fastened.” He walked toward her and she extended the pendant. Arcs of electricity flared when their hands touched during the transfer and she had to hold her breath when he stepped behind her to place the necklace.
Once he’d fastened the clasp, he cupped her bared shoulders instead of stepping away. “You look lovely.”
“Thank you.” She started to step away, but his hands tightened slightly, making her freeze.
“It will drive Salvatore crazy,” said Luca, with a hint of amusement. His breath caressed the back of her neck. “Me too.” He lowered his hand from her shoulder to cup her breast, thumbing the nipple until it beaded into a hard bud. “As beautiful as you are in this gown, I still can’t wait to strip it from you.”
Phoebe struggled to keep her thoughts focused as he played with her breast. “Luca…” She moaned when he squeezed the soft globe. “Um, I…” With a cough, she cleared her throat, and her passion-fogged mind. “Do you want to take the time for me to get dressed again later? If not, you’d better stop.”
He nibbled on her neck, but his hand fell from her breast. A moment later, he straightened and stepped away. “We should be on our way.”
Her lips twitched, but she didn’t smile, uncertain how he might take her mirth. With all the misunderstandings between them, he’d probably think she was amused at having some kind of control over him, or at his weakness for her.
A private car took them from his apartment in Midtown East to Salvatore’s sprawling home in the Upper East Side. The old man wasn’t content with an apartment in one of the exclusive buildings overlooking Central Park. Instead, he had purchased the entire building and converted it into a palatial estate suitable for an Italian duke of the past.
As she exited the car in the private parking garage, Phoebe admitted the comparison was apt. The Androttis had royal lineage, and the old bastard still liked to pretend he had the same power over people that his ancestors had wielded. It turned her stomach to know he had that kind of power over her life—or the power to ruin her life, at least. She had ended up doing almost exactly what Salvatore had wanted. His plans hadn’t eliminated her from Luca’s life, but they had effectively prevented his son from ever wanting more than sex from the lowly personal assistant.
