Her Italian Boss’s Agenda

by Lucy Gordon

‘Yes.’

  ‘Meanwhile he stole your ideas and used them to climb the ladder?’

  ‘He was promoted to be the boss’s deputy. That’s how he met the boss’s daughter, who was also working there. One day I went up to the top floor to pay him a surprise visit. We’d had a row and I wanted to make up. Rosalie was there, leaning forward over his desk, with her head close to his.

  ‘She scowled and demanded to know who I was, looking down her nose at me. I told her I was David’s wife and she gasped. He hadn’t told her he was married. Nobody in the firm knew. Our surname was Smith, which is so common that nobody made the connection.

  ‘That night he came home late. I spent the time crying, like the wimp I was. When he got home we had a big fight. I said how dare he pretend I didn’t exist, and he looked me up and down and said, “Why would I want to tell anyone about you?”’

  ‘Bastardo!’

  ‘I had nothing to say. She was so beautiful and perfectly groomed, and I was so dowdy. Soon after that we split up. There was a divorce and he married Rosalie. Since then he’s gone right to the top.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said cynically. ‘The boss’s son-in-law always goes to the top.’

  She nodded. ‘His father-in-law is a rich man with a lot of power.’ She gave a curt laugh. ‘David has two children now. A friend of mine has seen them. She says they’re beautiful.’

  ‘And they should have been yours,’ he said gently.

  She was suddenly unable to speak. But then she recovered and said, ‘No, of course not. That’s just being sentimental. When the divorce came through I did a lot more crying, so much that I reckon I’ve used up all my tears for the rest of my life. That’s what I promised myself, anyway. That was when I resumed my maiden name.

  ‘It’s silly to brood about the past. You can’t rewrite it. You can only make sure that the future is better. And that’s what I’m determined to do.’

  Primo didn’t know what to say. She seemed to speak lightly but her manner was still charged with emotion. What unsettled him most was the way she’d revealed her pain with the sudden force of someone breaking boundaries for the first time. Now she seemed to be withdrawing back into herself, as if regretting the brief intimacy she’d permitted.

  She confirmed it when she laughed and said, ‘And that’s the story of my life.’

  ‘No, not your life, just one bad experience. But don’t judge all men by your husband. Some of us have redeeming qualities.’

  ‘Of course. I like men. I enjoy their company. But I’m always waiting for that moment when the true face shows through.’

  ‘But suppose you saw the true face at the start,’ he suggested, fencing, hoping to draw her out further.

  ‘Does any man show his true face at the start?’ she fenced back. ‘Did you, for instance?’

  ‘Yes, let’s forget about that,’ he said hastily. ‘I prefer to talk some more about you.’

  ‘Why? Is the truth about you so very terrible?’

  He was wildly tempted to say that the truth about himself was something she wouldn’t believe. But he recovered his sanity in time.

  ‘Tell me about the new Olympia, the one who knows that love is nonsense.’

  ‘At least she knows it’s something you have to be realistic about.’

  ‘I think you could lose a lot by being that sort of realist.’

  ‘But don’t you believe a person’s head should rule their heart, and they should avoid stupid risks?’

  ‘No, I don’t,’ he said, aghast. ‘You could hardly say anything worse about any man.’

  ‘Not at all. They’re admirable qualities.’

  ‘Yes, for a dummy in a shop window.’

  ‘Have I offended you?’

  ‘Yes,’ he growled.

  ‘But why? Most men like to be admired for their brains and common sense.’

  He recovered his good humour.

  ‘You’ve observed that, have you? Is it on your list of effective techniques for use against Rinucci? Item one, sub-section A. Make breathless comments about size of brain and staggering use thereof. Note: Try to sound convincing, however difficult. Sub-section B. Suggest that-’

  ‘Stop it,’ she said, laughing. ‘Anyway, I don’t know if it would work with him. Is he intelligent enough to make admiration of his brains convincing?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. If he isn’t, he’ll never know the difference.’

  ‘That’s true,’ she said, much struck.

  ‘Personally I’ve always considered him rather a stupid man.’

  ‘Stupid in what way?’ she wanted to know.

  ‘In every way.’

  ‘Stupid in every way,’ she repeated. ‘That’s a start.’

  Primo grinned suddenly and hailed a passing waiter.

  ‘Would you bring the lady a notebook and pencil, please?’ he asked. ‘She has urgent notes to make.’ Turning back to Olympia, he said, ‘Of course, if you were really applying yourself to the job, you’d have brought them with you.’

  ‘I wasn’t exactly prepared for the conversation to be so promising.’

  ‘Always be prepared. You never know where any conversation might lead-what are you writing?’

  ‘Always-be-prepared-’ she said, her eyes fixed on the notebook which the waiter had just placed before her. Then she raised them and fixed them admiringly on his face. ‘How clever you are! I’d never have thought of a difficult concept like that for myself.’

  ‘Behave yourself,’ he said in a voice that shook with laughter.

  ‘But I was admiring your brilliant advice.’

  ‘You were using me for target practice.’

  ‘Well, some targets are more fun to practise on than others.’

  The significant chuckle in her voice was almost his undoing. He longed to ask her to expand on the subject, but he felt she’d had it all her own way long enough.

  ‘Enough,’ he said severely. ‘If you’re going to do this, do it properly. Don’t be obvious. Even a fool like Rinucci could see through that.’

  ‘Really? Never mind, you can tell me what else to say. How old is he?’

  ‘About my age.’

  ‘That’s young to be in his position.’

  ‘He relies a lot on family influence,’ Primo said, ruthlessly sacrificing his own reputation.

  ‘It’s going to take a lot of work filling this notebook. I’ll need a section for his interests, clothes-’

  ‘He’s a fancy dresser. More money than sense. Ah, but I forgot. You’re not interested in his money.’

  ‘That’s right. I just want to run him to earth, rope and brand him-’

  ‘And generally get him in a state of total subjection.’

  ‘You got it. And then-’

  ‘Olympia, could we possibly drop the subject of Primo Rinucci?’ he asked plaintively. ‘He really isn’t a very interesting man.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Of course he isn’t interesting to you.’

  The waiter, proffering the sweet menu, saved him from having to answer, and after that he managed to divert her on to another subject.

  At last she said, ‘Maybe we should go. I should go to work tomorrow, to impress the boss.’

  ‘But it is Sunday and he isn’t here.’

  ‘I meant you.’

  ‘Yes, right-I’m getting confused. Let’s go.’

  On the way home they talked in a relaxed, disjointed way, then made the last part of the journey in silence. When he drew up and looked over to her he saw that she was asleep.

  Her breathing was so soft that he could hardly hear it. She slept like a contented child, her face softened, all the tension smoothed out. There was even a faint smile on her lips, as though she’d found a rare moment of contentment.

  He moved closer, charmed by the way her long black lashes lay against her cheek. If this had been any other woman, on any other night, he would have leaned down and laid his mouth against hers, teasing gently until she awoke and her lips parted under his. Then he wou
ld have taken her into his arms, letting her head rest against his shoulder and her hair spread out, flowing over his arm.

  They would have held each other for a long moment before he finally murmured a question and she whispered her assent. Then, perhaps, they would have made their way together up to her apartment and closed the door behind them.

  So many evenings had ended that way, in tenderness, pleasure and passion. But not with her.

  With this woman passion was forbidden. Only tenderness was allowed, and so he watched her silently for several minutes, holding her hand but making no other move, until she opened her eyes and he said, in a shaking voice, ‘I think you should go upstairs now. You won’t mind if I don’t escort you to your door, will you?’

  He watched her walk into the building and kept his eyes on the windows he knew were hers until he saw the lights go on. Then he drove away quickly while he was still safe.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A S DAWN broke Olympia became half awake, seeming to exist in a limbo where there were no facts, only feelings and misty uncertainties, but they were very sweet. Perhaps more sweet for being undefined.

  She seemed to be back in his car, dozing as they made the journey home. She couldn’t see or hear him, but she was intensely aware of him. When he took her hand in his she was pervaded by a sense of deep contentment, as though she had come home to a place of safety, where lived the only person who understood.

  She was smiling as she opened her eyes.

  For once, the hours ahead of her were unknown, the decisions in the hand of someone else. After only two days he already seemed to fill her world. She was looking forward to the moment when she would meet him today and see in his eyes that he remembered last night, how they’d laughed and gazed into each other’s minds and recognised what they found there.

  When the phone rang she snatched it up eagerly.

  ‘Olympia?’

  ‘Jack? I knew it would be you.’

  ‘Why? Did the ring sound impatient?’

  She laughed, feeling excited. He was impatient to see her. He’d called to suggest a meeting today.

  ‘Well, yes,’ she said. ‘It did sound a little impatient.’

  ‘That’s because I’m going through books and realising how much there is to do. If I spend the rest of the day working I’ll just be ready to leave tomorrow. It ought to be today, of course, but since it’s Sunday it’ll have to wait.’

  ‘Did you say you were leaving?’ she asked, in shock, as much because of his businesslike tone as his words.

  ‘I need to see the rest of the Curtis empire.’

  ‘Empire? You mean the two other tiny factories?’

  ‘That’s right. I’ve studied them on-line and through correspondence. Now I want you to show them to me. Pack clothes for several days away, and I’ll collect you first thing tomorrow. Bye for now.’

  He hung up without further discussion, leaving her wondering if he was the same man as the night before.

  The impression was reinforced when they met the next day. He was pleasant but impersonal. The evening they had spent together might never have happened.

  Hadson’s, the first factory, was in the south. As he drove they discussed business, how this small, out of the way place had come to be acquired, the computer peripherals that it made, how economic was it. Olympia spoke carefully, unwilling to be the one who revealed the awkward truth about Hadson’s, which was that it was too small to survive. He would see it soon enough.

  ‘You’ve gone very quiet,’ he said at last.

  ‘I’ve given you the facts and figures, but you need to form your own impression.’

  To her relief he didn’t press her further.

  ‘Shall I call to say we’re coming?’

  ‘No, it’s better to take them by surprise,’ he replied coolly.

  In another hour they reached the little village of Andelwick and went to the factory, where the surprise was very obvious. So was the alarm, almost fear. Introducing the forty staff, Olympia praised every one of them individually, trying to keep a pleading note out of her voice. Sounding desperate would not help them.

  He was charming to everyone and invited the three senior staff to lunch. There he drew facts and figures out of them with skill and so much subtlety that they might not have guessed what lay behind it. But they did, Olympia realised with a sinking heart. They already knew the worst.

  When they were alone he looked at her and said, ‘Hmm!’

  ‘Don’t you dare say “Hmm!” to me,’ she exploded. ‘I know what you’re thinking.’

  ‘I’m thinking we’re going to have to stay overnight. Is there a good hotel?’

  ‘No hotels in this tiny place, but The Rising Sun does rooms. It’s a nice pub, basic but clean, and the food’s great. It’s just down the road.’

  ‘Fine. Will you go there now and do the bookings? Oh-and-’ he was suddenly awkward ‘-I seem to have left my credit cards behind. Could you use yours?’

  ‘Sure, no problem.’

  He spent the afternoon studying the books, said ‘Hmm!’ again, and swept her off to The Rising Sun, an old, traditional building where she’d booked two tiny rooms with such low oak beams that it was hard to walk upright.

  As she’d promised, the food was excellent and gave them vigour for the fight.

  ‘You can’t just dump this place,’ she said fiercely.

  ‘It’s not viable, Olympia. You can see that for yourself. Forty employees!’

  ‘Who all work their socks off for you.’

  ‘They’re now part of an international conglomerate-’

  ‘So loyalty doesn’t matter any more?’

  ‘Will you let me get a word in edgeways? It might have been viable until two years ago, but now there’s that other place, just down the road, Kellway’s-who are operating in much the same line of work.’

  ‘The council should never have allowed them to start up. They’re just trying to squeeze us out of business.’

  ‘Us?’

  ‘Hadson’s. It’s just a unit of productivity to you, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s my job to see things in that way.’

  ‘And to hell with the people! But Mr Jakes is a sweet old man and he’s been the backbone of this place for years.’

  ‘Perhaps he’s ready to put his feet up?’

  ‘No way, he loves that job and he wants to stick with it. And what about Jenny? It’s her first job and she’s so keen.’

  ‘Yes, but-’

  ‘And jobs are very hard to come by in this area. Did you know that? No, of course you didn’t. All you care about is books of figures and money.’

  ‘That’s all I’m supposed to care about. And so are you.’

  She missed the warning, yielding to the anger that was carrying her along.

  ‘They’re people, not just statistics.’

  ‘This is business.’

  ‘To hell with business!’

  Silence.

  He was regarding her wryly.

  ‘If Primo Rinucci heard you say that, you’d be dead,’ he observed.

  Aghast, she saw the trap she’d created for herself.

  ‘But he didn’t hear me,’ she said. ‘Only you.’

  ‘Only me,’ he agreed with an odd inflection in his voice that she couldn’t quite understand. ‘I won’t tell him, but sooner or later the truth will out.’

  ‘What truth?’ she asked in a hollow voice.

  ‘That underneath that calculating, hard-as-nails exterior you’ve so carefully painted on there’s a soft-hearted, empathetic, generous human being.’

  ‘It’s a lie,’ she said fiercely.

  He grinned and took a swig of the local beer before asking, ‘Where did you get all that detailed knowledge of Hadson’s?’

  ‘I spent a week there once.’

  ‘And got to know them all as people?’

  ‘I did a detailed survey of the situation, as my job required,’ she said stiffly.

  ‘And mad
e friends with them,’ he persisted remorselessly. ‘Liked them, felt for them.’

  ‘I suppose one can be a human being without becoming an automaton.’

  ‘Not really. Sooner or later the choice has to be made. My dear girl-’

  ‘Don’t call me that. I’m not a girl, I’m not yours and I’m not dear to you.’

  ‘Isn’t that for me to say?’ he asked quietly.

  She was silent a moment before saying, equally quietly, ‘That’s enough!’

  He shrugged. ‘Whatever pleases you. It’s time I went to my room and spent some more time in the soulless pursuit of money. Goodnight.’

  He left her there, wondering how she could ever have thought he was a nice guy. He was a monster who called her vile, unspeakable names.

  Soft-hearted. Empathetic. Generous for Pete’s sake!

  She would never forgive him!

  The following morning she rose to find that he had compounded his crimes. There was no sign of him at breakfast, only a note.

  I’m tied up this morning, but I’ll join you at Hadson’s later. JC

  Brusque to the point of discourtesy, she fumed. Perhaps he found writing difficult. He certainly seemed to have had a problem at the end of the note because there was an inky smudge just before his initials, as though he’d started to write something else, then scrubbed it out. Maybe he didn’t know his own initials, she thought uncharitably.

  Her morning at Hadson’s wasn’t happy. They all suspected the worst, and she could only confirm it.

  ‘He says the place isn’t viable,’ she said with a sigh. ‘It’s just a matter of time now. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘We know you did your best,’ Mr Jakes told her and the others murmured agreement.

  She was left feeling cast down. She had mishandled the whole business, failed to save their jobs and they were being nice to her. She could have wept.

  He turned up in the middle of the afternoon and was received in near silence.

  ‘Sorry to keep you waiting, everyone,’ he said, apparently oblivious to the atmosphere. ‘This morning’s business took longer than I expected, owing to Mr Kellway’s difficulty in making up his mind. But in the end he saw things the right way.’

  ‘You’ve been to Kellway’s?’ Olympia asked, astounded.