At Her Boss's Pleasure

by Cathy Williams

  He looked at that earnest face. That beautiful, earnest face. She should be as tough as nails—immune to feelings of empathy given her background. But she wasn’t.

  She was complex, intriguing, quirky... And all of this despite the fact that she was so desperate to be just the opposite.

  He liked that.

  Was there anything wrong with that?

  When it came to women he had always been able to have what he wanted. This woman introduced a challenge to his jaded appetite and what was wrong with that? What was wrong if he wanted to explore that just a little bit further?

  ‘I could...’ he admitted, watching her carefully. ‘Everyone has a story to tell...’

  ‘I know!’

  She hazarded a smile, leaned forward.

  ‘You think I’m mad, but I just know that George isn’t a bad guy. He...he’s actually one of the kindest men I’ve met in my entire life! Although...’ She laughed, and the sound was light and infectious, ‘Compared to some of the guys I’ve had the misfortune to meet, thanks to my mother, that’s not hard! Not that any of them threatened me in any way,’ she added hurriedly, ‘but I certainly grew up having first-hand knowledge of how scummy guys can be...’

  She smiled shyly at him, marvelling that underneath that forbidding exterior and arrogant self-assurance he might not be quite as unrelenting as she’d thought.

  ‘I’m really glad you’re prepared to at least listen to what he has to say.’

  Alessandro made a non-committal sound under his breath and smiled at her lazily. ‘And wouldn’t it be so much fairer if I had this discussion with him face to face? Outside the office? After all, the last thing I want is for the world to see him being marched out in handcuffs...’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Kate agreed, delighted at his turnaround. ‘That sort of thing would just...destroy him...’

  ‘Which is why we are going to fly to Canada and confront him there. Find out just what the hell has been going on. Surprise him, so to speak. But it will be a far less unpleasant surprise than if I do it in the office, with all those curious eyes peering through the glass, people jumping to conclusions and gossiping...’

  ‘Sorry...we...?’

  ‘Of course!’

  He smiled broadly at her while she stared back, her brain moving sluggishly to compute the message it was receiving.

  ‘You’re the one who has influenced me into a decision I would never have otherwise taken. It’s only right that you be there when the questions get asked...don’t you agree?’

  ‘Well...’

  ‘Congratulations on changing my mind! It’s a rare occurrence. I’ll get my secretary to book flights out first thing on Monday morning. I take it you have a current passport? Yes? Well, then...’ He looked at her with satisfaction. ‘That’s settled...’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ALESSANDRO WAS WAITING for her five days later at the first-class check-in desk at the airport.

  Kate spotted him from a mile away. Not hard. He stood out even in a packed terminal, where people were either rushing around frantically or else standing in long queues with blank How much slower can this line move? stares.

  He was frowning at his smartphone, scrolling through messages, leaning against the counter with a solitary, very expensive holdall on the ground next to him. The picture of understated elegance in cream trousers, a white shirt and a lightweight jacket which he had tossed on top of the holdall.

  Having planned on arriving bang on time, if not early, Kate was unavoidably running late and she was hassled.

  She thought her neatly pinned-back hair might be unravelling. and her suit and pumps felt stiff and uncomfortable—unsuitable for the heat here in London, never mind abroad. Lord only knew how they would fare on a long-haul flight, but she had been determined to dress appropriately because, crucially, this wasn’t a holiday.

  She had allowed her rules to slip. She had found herself losing her self-control. It was going to be very important that she re-establish that self-control while she was in Toronto on this business trip.

  Comfy trousers and a casual cotton jumper with loafers had thus been ruled out as suitable travel gear.

  ‘You’re late,’ were the first words Alessandro greeted her with as he snapped shut his phone and straightened.

  ‘Traffic. I’m sorry. It would have been quicker for me to have come by tube. But I’m here now, and I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.’ She managed to say all that in a cool, polite voice whilst not actually looking at him at all. ‘Have you checked in?’

  ‘I was waiting for you.’

  ‘Is that all the luggage you’ve brought?’ Kate asked incredulously.

  Next to his holdall, her suitcase was the size of a small mountain—but they were going for a week, and she hadn’t quite known which clothes to take for which occasion. So she had packed to cover every eventuality.

  They had found out where George was staying with his wife without actually contacting him for the information—because, as Alessandro had persisted in telling her, the element of surprise would afford him no time to start thinking up fancy stories to cover up what he had done.

  Kate hadn’t said anything. Poor George. Little did he know what he was in for. Alessandro had assured her that he was prepared to listen, but was he prepared to absolve from blame and forgive?

  In the world of Alessandro Preda there was no room for excuses or apologies. If you crossed him in any way retribution would be swift and unforgiving. She could only try and be the restraining hand on his arm, so to speak. It was a minor miracle that he was prepared to listen at all.

  ‘I’m a believer in travelling light,’ he said, checking in her suitcase and then taking his time to examine the picture in her passport, while Kate patiently waited for him to return it to her, teeth gritted. ‘I take it you’re not...?’

  ‘I wasn’t sure what to bring with me.’

  ‘So you decided to bring it all? Including the kitchen sink?’

  She reddened and mumbled something about it being so much easier for guys, who could fling two things in an overnight bag and disappear abroad for a month.

  She might have added that she could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she had been abroad in her entire life. She wasn’t an expert when it came to working out what to pack. Aside from confronting George and ruining his holiday, they would be visiting a potential business opportunity on the outskirts of the city—killing two birds with one stone, so to speak, which was probably partly why Alessandro had chosen to make this trip in the first place.

  So, yes, work clothes... But it wasn’t really feasible to wear suits in the evenings as well, was it?

  Not that she planned on spending a single one of those evenings in his company. Not one. She intended to draw some very clear and definite lines. Between nine and five she would be his employee, and after five she would disappear and do her own thing.

  So she had stuffed some casual wear in her case as well. Jeans and loose, baggy tops. The woman in the tiny shorts and cropped top with the ponytail was not going to make an appearance.

  ‘If I need more clothes,’ Alessandro was saying, leading her through customs, handling everything so efficiently that she barely noticed them heading towards the first-class lounge, ‘then I can always buy out there. I travel so much that I can be in and out of an airport a lot faster if I don’t have to check in any luggage.’

  ‘Hence the holdall?’

  ‘Hence the holdall. Usually I bring something a lot smaller when I’m going to Europe.’

  ‘I can’t imagine what could be smaller,’ Kate panted, walking fast to keep pace with him. ‘A wallet?’

  Alessandro chuckled and shot her an appreciative look—which she missed because she was trying to remain composed whilst half running beside him, one hand holding her neat little bun in place, the other dragging a pull-along case which she had stuffed with all sorts of useful reading matter.

  ‘Occasionally,’ he drawled, sl
owing down and veering off to the left, ‘a wallet is all a man needs. It can hold a lot more than just banknotes and credit cards...’

  ‘Really? Like what?’ Kate retorted sarcastically, getting her breathing back and looking sideways at him. ‘A change of outfit? Spare jacket? Pair of shoes?’

  He burst out laughing, stopping and looking down at her with an unreadable expression that left her feeling a little dizzy.

  ‘Where have you been hiding?’

  ‘Sorry?’ She stared back at him, confused.

  ‘This witty, funny woman with the sharp tongue... Where have you been stashing her away? If I’d known she existed I would have taken some time out to try and find her...under the desk, maybe...or behind the coatrack...or in the stationery cupboard...’

  Kate couldn’t help herself. She blushed and smiled and looked away, and then caught his eyes again. And all the while she was doing that she could feel her heart pick up speed.

  There was still laughter in his eyes as he continued to hold her gaze. ‘A wallet,’ he murmured, his dark eyes suddenly glinting with lazy devilry, ‘can hold something that’s even more vital than cash or credit cards...’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ll let you think about it...’ He grinned and began walking again, pushing open the glass doors that led to the first-class lounge.

  Kate paused and took stock. This was amazing. Here, the hustle and bustle of the airport terminal gave way to...well, peace, quiet...glassy counters groaning under the weight of food...men and women on their computers, comfy chairs and sofas...

  ‘Wow.’

  Accustomed to all of this, Alessandro took a few seconds to register her expression, and he felt a weirdly heady kick at having been the one to introduce her to the experience.

  ‘So this is how the other half live,’ she breathed, impressed to death. ‘Am I standing out like a sore thumb?’

  She looked at him anxiously and he smiled.

  ‘I don’t think there’s a dress code in operation here,’ he told her gently, guiding her forward and flicking their first-class passes to the well-groomed woman behind the polished curved counter.

  Actually, there was. The dress code was expensive. He felt a sudden surge of protectiveness, which he dismissed as the normal reaction of a boss looking out for his employee. Having her insulted, stared at or criticized in any way was something he would not tolerate.

  He ushered her to a long, low sofa, settled her down. When he asked her what she would like to drink he was amused to see her spring to her feet, eyes bright.

  ‘I should do the honours,’ she told him seriously. ‘You are my boss, after all...’

  ‘Of course,’ Alessandro murmured. ‘What was I thinking?’

  So she didn’t blend in? He was suddenly contemptuous of all those unspoken rules the seriously wealthy played by. A rich diet of supermodels had blinded him to the realities that everyone else lived with. And, of all people, shouldn’t he know that the wealthy had their failings? Didn’t always conform?

  He frowned, distracted by the rare intrusion of introspection. He came from wealth—had known first-hand its ups and downs, had experienced the frailty of what could be so easily taken for granted. He was secure in his own personal fortune—had made sure of that—but it struck him that he no longer looked outside the box at lifestyles that weren’t rich and privileged.

  He was accustomed to his rare stratosphere because it was the one everyone he knew inhabited—including the women he dated. Although it had to be said that their passports came via their incredible looks.

  She returned five minutes later with two plates heaped with various titbits, from little dainty sandwiches to cream cakes and packets of biscuits.

  ‘I’ve gone a little mad,’ she confessed. ‘I know it’s not cool to take a bit of everything that’s there, but I couldn’t resist.’

  ‘You don’t have to justify yourself to me, Kate. Take whatever you want. That’s what it’s there for. I’d bet that half the people here would love to do the same, but some warped sense of wanting to blend in and look cool stops them.’

  Kate breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I’m ravenous, anyway.’

  ‘We could have a full breakfast if you’d rather?’

  ‘You’re kidding?’

  ‘Perfectly serious. Airlines command fat fares for first-class travellers. Frankly, hot food in their lounges is the very least one can expect.’

  ‘I’m fine.’ She reminded herself that she wasn’t there to have fun. Work was what was on the agenda—and not of a very pleasant nature either. ‘But thank you for the offer.’

  She tucked in as delicately as possible whilst noticing that he ate next to nothing.

  ‘You can work if you want to,’ she contributed awkwardly. ‘You don’t have to feel that I need entertaining.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  She reluctantly looked at the little pile of uneaten sandwiches on her plate. ‘How do you intend to...to confront George? Have you given it much thought? I know you have all the evidence compiled, but are you just going to present him with it in front of his wife?’

  ‘Haven’t thought that far ahead.’

  ‘I’d hate him to think that I might have been the one to instigate this whole sorry business,’ she admitted. ‘Although if I show up at your side I guess that’s the first thing he’ll think.’

  ‘Why does it matter?’ Alessandro dismissed her concern with a careless shrug. ‘So he gets the boot and puts it down to you? What’s the big deal?’

  ‘The “big deal” is that some of us actually care what other people think of them.’

  ‘Why? Will you ever see him again? His family?’

  ‘That’s not the point.’ She looked at him curiously. ‘How can you be so...so cold and detached?’

  And he was. Despite the fact that he socialized heavily, dated women by the bucketload if office gossip and the daily tabloids were anything to go by, there was something about Alessandro Preda that remained remote and untouchable.

  She shivered. Was that all part and parcel of his incredible appeal?

  In the City he was feared as a ruthless competitor. Men and women alike were awed by him. Even here, as she surreptitiously slid her eyes to the side, she could see the way people checked him out. He commanded attention and took it as his right. They all knew he was rich, or else he wouldn’t be in a first-class lounge. They only wondered if he was famous—and if so famous, for what?

  But, for all the attention he garnered, on some level he didn’t engage. Why was that? she wondered.

  ‘Trust me...cold and detached are two words that have never been used by a woman to describe me...’

  And all at once Kate knew what he had been referring to with that little smile curling his lips, when he had told her that wallets held more important stuff than money and credit cards.

  Condoms.

  A man who could have whatever woman he wanted always had to be prepared, she thought, with a burst of cynicism.

  It was incredible that she had managed to forget just what sort of a person he was. He might be remote, he might be as shallow as a puddle when it came to anything emotional, but he was also witty, intelligent, and when he focused those dark, speculative, brooding eyes on her, all her misgivings floated away like dew on a hot summer morning.

  Which didn’t change the fact that he was a man who made sure he carried condoms in his wallet—because who knew when some poor good-looking girl might cross his path, hoping for more than just a one-night stand or a one-month fling with a bunch of goodbye roses when she was on her way out?

  ‘Well, this is one woman who’s using them now,’ Kate said coolly. ‘When we’ve confronted poor George in his hotel room and you’ve shaken him down and booted him out of your company without a backward glance, will you be able to wipe your hands and walk away without giving him a second thought? Because if you can then you’re cold and detached—and it doesn’t matter how many adoring fans tell you the opposite.’r />
  From any other woman Alessandro would not have taken this. He had his rules and his boundaries and those were lines that were never crossed. In truth, he never really even had to lay them down. They were unwritten, unspoken and obeyed without fail.

  Kate Watson—who, on the surface, promised to be as non-committal as a plank of wood—chose to disregard every single one of those boundary lines, and her rampant disobedience intrigued him and he didn’t quite know why.

  Maybe it was the dichotomy between what she strove to conceal and what she was lured into revealing against her better judgement.

  He might not be involved with her on a personal level, but there was something in her that aroused his interest.

  ‘I expect you’re going to remind me that it’s not my place to voice opinions about you or what you do...’ she muttered in a half-hearted apology.

  ‘We’re going to be in each other’s company for a week. If you have something to say then you might as well get it off your chest. I don’t think I can face your constant disapproval. And I’m guessing from those pursed lips that you do disapprove of me?’

  ‘I... No, of course I don’t...’ Her voice fell away.

  ‘Of course you do. You have opinions on the type of person I am, and admiration isn’t one of them. That’s something you’ve decided you’ll leave to those adoring fans of mine.’

  Hot colour crawled up into her cheeks. Pursed lips. She was a woman with pursed lips and disapproval and starchy suits. He was fun. And she was the schoolmarm who always rained on his parade.

  Except it wasn’t fun when there was some poor, deluded hopeful woman at the receiving end, was it?

  ‘I have a lot of admiration for your business acumen,’ she said stiffly. ‘They say that everything you touch turns to gold. That’s quite an achievement. I think it takes a lot to be a guy who builds all the businesses and it’s something quite different from the guy who services them. You’re the guy who builds the businesses.’