One-Click Buy: September Harlequin Presents

by Penny Jordan

  ‘I can’t face seeing Malvolio again.’ Her voice was shrill, and still she didn’t turn around. Her hand was on the door now, but not to open it, more for support. The horrors of the day were finally catching up, the feelings she had denied, had willed herself not to examine until she was safely alone, were making searing contact with her brain now. ‘I don’t think I could stand to be…’

  Silence filled the room. Only it wasn’t peaceful. It was that horrible silence of a strangled sob, the thud of reality, that moment when it all catches up and there’s nothing that can be done to push it back down—when you can’t keep smiling as if you’re stupid, when you can’t pretend that you don’t care and that it didn’t really matter that filthy hands had dirtied your life. Yes—in a while she’d no doubt be able to shrug it off; in a while she’d probably put it all into perspective and apportion the correct blame. In a while it wouldn’t matter as much as it mattered now.

  But right now it mattered.

  And it mattered to Lazzaro too.

  Seeing her convulse—seeing this proud, strong woman wilt for a second—he found it mattered enough to propel him from his desk, to literally peel her trembling body from the door, to turn her around to face him and hold her. Like some mountain rescuer he reached her on the cliff-edge and tried to imbue her with his warmth.

  ‘I hate him…’ She wasn’t talking to Lazzaro; he knew that. ‘I hate him.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I’ll be okay soon.’ She gulped, knowing she would, just confirming it to herself. She was embarrassed now at letting him see her cry, but he held her closer as she started to pull away, and after just a second of protest she let him—let him comfort her, let him hold her as the horror slowly receded, her breathing slowing at just listening to the soothing thud of his heart in his chest.

  For Lazzaro there was one inevitable end to holding a woman in his arms. The luxury of having a penthouse suite as your office meant there was a bed just a door away, and as he stared down at lips swollen from nibbling teeth and salty tears, instinct told him to kiss her—to soothe her in the way he soothed women best. Only a deeper instinct prevailed.

  Morality—which was usually void—crept in. His kiss was surely not what she needed now.

  Only it was.

  It felt like for ever that she’d dreamt of being in his arms, but now it had happened Caitlyn found out dreams didn’t actually compare. Being held by him was so blissfully consuming, the circle of his arms so strong and safe, that nothing else could invade. She felt the shift in him, felt the shift from comfort to more, and she actually wanted him to kiss her, wanted his hands on her to erase the grubby stains Malvolio’s had left.

  But he didn’t. Instead he held her for just a little bit more, held her close as she assimilated all that had taken place and put it into some sort of order, and when finally he let her go, when finally she could stand alone again, the world was certainly a nicer place than the one she’d left just moments ago.

  ‘Malvolio manages the housekeeping staff. He’s rarely in the office and I’m rarely here. The job would involve a lot of travel…’ His voice was low, his gaze direct as he told her he hadn’t changed his mind.

  ‘But even so…’ Caitlyn protested. ‘I’d still have to see him sometimes…’ Again she shook her head, but she wasn’t so certain now. Lazzaro believed her. Lazzaro knew. And he would, she was sure, sort it.

  That thought was confirmed when Lazzaro spoke next. ‘He will not trouble you at all—I will go and see him and make very sure of it. You do not have to leave.’

  ‘I haven’t got any experience…’ She was being offered her dream job, a fast-track to what would normally take years to achieve, and even if it was foolhardy to show how woefully inadequate she was for such an esteemed position, really she had no choice.

  ‘You haven’t picked up any bad habits, then.’ For the first time today she saw him smile, then he gestured to the desk. ‘Sit down.’

  Formality was welcome.

  Formality she could actually deal with.

  So she listened as he took her through her new role, blinking at the description of international flights and luxury hotels that would now pepper her existence, at a salary that made her eyes widen, and at the prospect of a life, as Lazzaro strongly pointed out, that would be basically put on hold to accommodate his.

  ‘My time is valuable,’ Lazzaro said, and she nodded. ‘Take today—I should not be going to Admin to get forms, and nor will you be able to. That is why you too will have an assistant. My former PA has a list of names somewhere, of people who can be put through to me without question, people who first you check and people who, like Lucy, you will have to deal with.’ He gave a tight smile. ‘At times your work will be menial, and at times it will be downright boring—such as sitting in a car waiting for me. At other times the stress and demands will be intense. Each morning we will go through my day—each week we will plan my schedule. For example, in a couple of weeks we will fly to Rome—’

  ‘I don’t speak Italian…’

  ‘Lucky for you then, that nearly all my staff in Rome speak excellent English…Still, if you do decide to remain in this position, that is something you might be wise to address.’

  If she decided to remain! Who would be mad enough to leave such a fabulous job?

  Lazzaro must have caught the slightly incongruous dart of her eyes.

  ‘I have never had a PA stay for more than a year—that is how long you will be contracted for. Towards the end of your term we will discuss your future. This is an exceptionally demanding role—and, yes, I am an exceptionally demanding boss. I have high standards, a formidable workload, and at some point you will no doubt decide that no amount of money or perks can make up for it.’

  ‘Is that why Jenna left?’ Caitlyn asked, because she’d heard that you should find out the reasons any position was vacant. Though when Lazzaro answered she rather wished that she hadn’t.

  ‘Jenna had certain demands that I wasn’t prepared to meet.’

  Like monogamy? Caitlyn was tempted to say, but thankfully she didn’t—their private affair had not been so private, given it was she who had changed the sheets!

  ‘At some point,’ Lazzaro continued, ‘you will want to resume your own life—I accept that. However, a period of working for me will open many doors for you.’

  ‘I just don’t get why me, when it’s clearly such a demanding role…’ Caitlyn’s mouth was suddenly dry—she was acutely aware that she was sitting in a chambermaid’s dress, suddenly being interviewed for a plum position. ‘And though naturally I’d love the opportunity, I just don’t understand why you’d just hand it to me. If it’s because of what happened with Malvolio—’

  ‘After several unsuccessful interviews, I wasted yet another hour this afternoon attempting to explain to a very boutique recruitment agency my needs,’ Lazzaro interrupted. ‘Outlining what it was I was looking for in an assistant. Next week I will be paraded with a number of what they consider suitable applicants. I do not necessarily want someone who speaks fluent Italian. I do not want someone who on paper has “excellent interpersonal skills” but in reality cannot read a situation. I want someone who, without being told, writes down the name of a caller they assume might be difficult.’ His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he looked over at her. ‘I guess you just know sometimes that you’ve found the person you’re looking for.’

  ‘Quite!’ Caitlyn croaked, then coloured up, biting on her bottom lip, wishing she were hearing that from him somewhere other than in an interview.

  ‘And,’ Lazzaro continued, ‘I want someone who has the guts to be honest.’

  ‘I am honest…’ Caitlyn flared.

  ‘Just not with your bank.’ He grinned. ‘Look, I am not asking you to sign away the rest of your life. I understand that the role is too consuming, too demanding to expect longevity. But most people I interview are using this as a stepping stone—are prepared to work hard for a few months because of the do
ors it will open. I want someone who is prepared to work hard, full-stop. So when you are thinking of leaving—which you will—I want you to tell me.’

  ‘Okay…’ Caitlyn nodded, only she didn’t sound very convinced—wasn’t convinced at all, in fact, that she would ever leave. Still, maybe this was the way to get over him, she decided, looking at the multitude of positives. Maybe witnessing his legendary bloody nature first hand might just get her to put out the light on the stupid torch she’d been carrying for him.

  ‘Are you in a relationship?’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Caitlyn’s response was suitably appalled. ‘I hardly think that’s relevant.’

  ‘But it is,’ Lazzaro countered. ‘He is going to have to be one very patient man to accept that he’s hardly going to see you—that if this goes ahead, as of Monday, I come first!’

  ‘Well, I’m not in a relationship.’ Caitlyn sniffed. ‘We just broke up.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Lazzaro smiled. ‘How long were you together?’

  ‘Why? Are you worried I’m going to be crying into my tissues instead of concentrating on you?’

  ‘I’m just curious.’ Lazzaro shrugged. ‘Given that we’re going to be working so closely together, we’re going to get to know these things about each other.’

  Hardly! Caitlyn choked back the word—she couldn’t imagine asking Lazzaro to pass the tissues as she cracked a bar of chocolate and told him that the reason she and Dominic had broken up was because—because…She closed her eyes and cringed. Because of the things she didn’t do. Because, at the ripe old age of twenty-two, she was still a virgin!

  ‘Purple!’ Caitlyn said instead, giving a tight smile at Lazzaro’s bemused frown. ‘I’m wearing purple knickers, before you ask, and we were together six months. He ended it, but I was actually about to. Is that enough information for you?’

  ‘For now…’ He gave her a very lazy smile, and stared at her for the longest time without even attempting to speak. For Caitlyn it was excruciating as she awaited what she knew was about to be a summing up. ‘You’re very…’ he paused before he delivered his verdict ‘…different.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Very interesting…’ Lazzaro mused.

  ‘I’m hard bloody work, actually!’

  ‘I like hard work.’ Lazzaro grinned, and she nearly shot out of her chair at the look he was giving her. ‘Well, I look forward to working with you. That will be all.’

  ‘Not quite.’ Caitlyn saw his frown of surprise and she took a deep breath before speaking. ‘Generally at the end of an interview the interviewee is asked if she has any questions or anything she’d like to add.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Actually, yes…’ Caitlyn hesitated for a second—could absolutely hear the horrified shriek of the little devil that sat on her shoulder as she decided to be up-front. But there was no point in taking this job, no point at all, if one thing wasn’t made perfectly clear from the start. She’d heard Lazzaro was a tough and demanding boss, that he had no qualms at all about speaking his mind—loudly on occasion. That she could accept, so long as Lazzaro could accept her. ‘I admire the fact that you speak your mind. However…’ her blue eyes locked with his ‘…so do I.’

  ‘I’d already worked that one out,’ Lazzaro countered. ‘Though stand-up rows with my personal assistant I can do without.’

  ‘Oh, there’ll be no stand-up rows.’ Caitlyn smiled. ‘I’m more professional than that. But, before you formally offer me the position, you should know that I do have a tongue, and one that I’ll use if I think I’m being spoken to inappropriately—no matter how good the salary, manners cost nothing.’

  Lazzaro, though his face never moved a muscle, was actually smothering a smile; listening to Caitlyn was as unique as it was refreshing—almost as if he were the one being interviewed for the job.

  ‘So I am to watch what I say?’

  ‘No,’ Caitlyn corrected. ‘Just don’t expect me to hide behind a pot plant till your mood passes.’

  ‘I don’t have any pot plants.’

  He stared at her thoughtfully for a moment, and for Caitlyn it lasted for ever. She was wondering if she’d blown it, if she was about to kiss her dream job goodbye, but suddenly he smiled—not a wide, generous smile, more a brief upturn of his lips, but for Caitlyn it was wonderful.

  ‘I will see you on Monday at seven-thirty. You will need a suitable wardrobe, of course. I will arrange an account for you—’

  ‘I have a suitable wardrobe,’ Caitlyn interrupted. ‘I don’t generally walk around dressed like this.’

  ‘As you wish.’ Lazzaro shrugged. ‘But I expect smart.’

  ‘You’ll get it.’

  ‘I mean really smart,’ Lazzaro countered—and winced as the phone rang.

  ‘Allow me.’ Caitlyn grinned, rolling her eyes as an expensive voice purred out her new nearly boss’s name.

  ‘Bonita,’ Caitlyn mouthed, expecting him to shake his head, and more than a little miffed when he didn’t.

  His manicured hand reached for the phone, his voice surprisingly gentle and familiar as he greeted his caller and then asked if she minded holding for a moment.

  ‘You represent me…’ Lazzaro continued, but he was distracted now, clearly wanting this meeting over so he could get back to his call. ‘My hotels are the best in the world. A high street suit and cheap luggage is not going to—’He saw her colour up, a little pink tinge come to her cheeks, and he reached in his drawer and scribbled down the name of several stores where he held accounts. ‘This is not a favour; this is part of your role if you want the job.’

  ‘Tha—’ She stopped herself from thanking him. ‘Of course.’

  But he wasn’t listening. His focus was already elsewhere as he waved her away, and even before she’d closed the door behind her she could hear him talking into the phone.

  Only, as much as Lazzaro was listening to Bonita, for a moment his mind was still on Caitlyn.

  Watching her walk out of his office, Lazzaro knew he had made the right choice—she was smart, capable, and she had enough guts to stand up to him—and she was damned attractive too…His mouth split in a thin smile. He had absolutely no qualms about mixing business with pleasure…and Caitlyn Bell was going to be just that; he knew it.

  An absolute pleasure.

  CHAPTER THREE

  OPPORTUNITY always knocked when one was least expecting it.

  But not only was Caitlyn not expecting it—she actually didn’t have time for such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to come knocking this weekend. She had a wedding to go to tomorrow, which meant she already had a hairdresser’s appointment booked, and then the wedding post mortem on Sunday—in fact, she still hadn’t even bought a present.

  Which left her about two free hours this evening to buy a fabulous executive wardrobe that would see her through not only her new job in Melbourne, but also a quick dash to Rome.

  Stepping out onto the street, Caitlyn walked through the crowded city, her head spinning—not just from Lazzaro’s job offer, not just because in a matter of an hour or so her whole life had been turned around…She should be walking on air, but instead her legs felt like lead. It felt as if she was walking through mud and, giving in, she leant against a wall for a moment, watching but somehow not watching a tram clattering through the busy street, the spill of suits leaving their offices, eagerly awaiting their weekends. And though it was the last thing she wanted to think about, though there were a million other things she would rather dwell on, it was Malvolio she couldn’t rid from her mind.

  A nauseous feeling rose in her throat as she relived the horrible scene. Saw again the hate in his eyes when she’d bitten him, heard again the vile spit of words as he’d stormed out of the door.

  ‘You’re a cheap slut, Caitlyn—just like Roxanne.’

  Roxanne…

  Caitlyn closed her eyes, willed her heart to settle into a more normal rhythm. The name he’d hurled meant that he knew who she was—a revelation she had
n’t been prepared for.

  After ascending the elevator in a city department store, as usual she got off on the fourth floor. It took about ten minutes of blind panic for her to realise that no half-price suit in a sale was going to do for Lazzaro.

  He wasn’t doing her a favour.

  She said Lazzaro’s words over and over to herself as she stepped back on the elevator and ascended to the hallowed sixth floor, swallowing at the price tags on the exclusive designer labels, and even accepting the help of a very pushy assistant, whose rather snooty stance noticeably softened when Caitlyn stammered out her predicament.

  ‘You’re Lazzaro Ranaldi’s new personal assistant…So Gemma has left?’

  ‘Jenna.’

  ‘That’s right! Jenna shopped here regularly. I know all about how she just had to look the part.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Your new boss has very exacting standards where his staff are concerned. Absolutely I’ll help you.’

  Standing in the changing room, Caitlyn stared at her reflection—the safe black suit she’d initially chosen had been tut-tutted away by the assistant and replaced with a slate-grey one, which was gorgeous, a cream linen one, which Caitlyn wasn’t sure about, and an olive one which was fab too—although the skirt was just a touch too short for her liking. Now she was wearing a chocolate-brown suit that, as the assistant had promised, did work well with her colouring. It calmed her complexion and brought out the blue of her eyes, and with her hair done, with make-up on and the right shoes…Standing on tiptoe, Caitlyn assumed a snooty pose and decided that she actually might just pass as Lazzaro Ranaldi’s assistant—and she could afford to help her mother now, could pay the lawyer and, if the ruling didn’t go their way, would be able to pay off Aunty Cheryl and Roxanne.

  Roxanne…

  Sitting on the bench in the changing room, Caitlyn buried her head in her hands and dragged in the stuffy air. The knot that was so familiar in her stomach these days tightened another notch, as if Roxanne and Cheryl were on either side, pulling, tugging so hard it would be easier sometimes to just let it snap. Their vile conversation was still playing on her mind as clearly as if it had taken place yesterday instead of two years ago. And not for the first time, maybe for the millionth, Caitlyn wondered if there was anything she could have done—anything she could have said—that might have changed the appalling outcome.