by Jan Bowles
As he dried his hands, he heard a car pull up on the drive, and he guessed his new employee had arrived early. That was a good sign. However, he wouldn’t rush to see her. She’d just have to wait. He remembered his father’s words of wisdom from when he was a small child. Carlo Caparelli would hunker down and whisper in his son’s ear, “Leon, remember this if you remember nothing else. It is always a man’s place to be in charge of a woman, especially in the bedroom.” He adored his father, and was devastated by his sudden death at the age of thirty-seven when he himself was barely ten years old. He didn’t fully understand the implications of his father’s words back then, but he certainly did now, and had done for many years, readily practicing and enjoying his father’s philosophy.
With curiosity getting the better of him, he eased open the bathroom window. What he saw didn’t exactly inspire him. A well-used beige Ford with a U-haul trailer attached to the rear fender lay slumped in the driveway—a dull car, in a dull color. He just hoped its driver showed a little more vitality than her lifeless means of transport. When the door to the geriatric Ford creaked open, he was pleasantly surprised to see a slender, yet well-formed calf make an appearance. Hmm, interesting. When the rest of his new employee came into view, he saw no reason to change his opinion. From the restricted angle of the bathroom window, it was hard to get a good look, but as she walked across the graveled driveway, he noticed her gait was distinctly feminine and possessed a certain poise and elegance.
When he heard the doorbell chime, he decided to take a shower. His housekeeper, Marie, would show his new assistant around and keep her entertained until he was ready.
* * * *
While pulling on a fresh white shirt and strapping on his Breitling watch, Leonardo heard the faint sound of voices below. Marie’s quietly spoken words and compliant, friendly nature were familiar to him, and as he made his way down the stairs, the other feminine voice became clearer. It possessed a slight huskiness, which he found sexy. When he pushed open the double doors to the living area, the mystery woman immediately rose from her chair. He liked that. A show of respect was always welcome.
Leonardo held out his hand, and he felt warm tiny fingers slide into his palm. He squeezed them with just enough energy to leave her in no doubt who was in charge.
“Leonardo Caparelli. Good to meet you.”
“Paige Palmer. Good to meet you, too, Mr. Caparelli.”
He liked the formality of her response, vigorously disapproving of employees who became too familiar. If they did, they only did it once. Leonardo’s first view of her through the bathroom window really didn’t do her justice. His new personal assistant was a very attractive young woman. Relatively petite, she stood about five three, and weighed, he guessed, about one hundred and twenty pounds. Stunning, emerald-green eyes held his, making him hold onto her hand a little longer than necessary. Glossy chestnut hair fell about her shoulders, and he liked the way it shimmered slightly as she spoke. Her clothes fitted perfectly, but were clearly off the peg, and not made to measure like his own. Still, what the fuck did he expect? Although he was paying the top rate for a personal assistant, maybe even slightly above, that still meant she couldn’t afford to wear Gucci, Versace, or Jimmy Choo. Now, on the subject of feet, he noticed hers were tiny, and although covered by sensible working shoes, he figured that sexy little toes wriggled in anticipation beneath.
He turned to the housekeeper. “Thank you, Marie. You can go now.”
She deferentially nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Caparelli.” Almost silently she left the living area and unobtrusively closed the double doors behind her.
“How was your trip?”
“Fine, Mr. Caparelli.”
“I see you have a trailer with you. Is that all your worldly possessions?”
“Yes. My rented apartment in LA came fully furnished.”
He nodded. “I see. I’m sure you must be tired after your journey. I’ll get Marvin, Marie’s husband, to show you to your personal accommodation. It’s separate from the main house, allowing you total privacy.”
“Thank you.”
Although appearing confident, Paige also seemed to possess a demure, almost submissive side to her personality. He checked his watch again. This was something he’d investigate further when time wasn’t so pressing. “I have an important business meeting forty-five minutes from now, so I’ll leave you in Marie’s capable hands. Prior to your arrival, I gave her instructions to show you your office and the work diary. I trust she did as I asked?”
“She did, Mr. Caparelli. I didn’t have long to familiarize myself with everything, but I believe I’m almost up to speed.”
“Excellent. Now I suggest you get a good night’s sleep, because business at Caparelli Motors begins early each morning. I take breakfast at six thirty sharp, and I expect you to take it with me.”
Chapter Two
Paige glanced at her reflection in the mirror as she brushed her hair. She still saw traces of tiredness around her eyes, but that was hardly surprising since the digital clock on the wall flashed 5:40 a.m. Eager to make a good impression, she wanted to arrive early for breakfast and make sure she was up to speed on the first day in her new job.
Still looking in the mirror, she idly traced the flesh above her breasts before pushing the disturbing thoughts from her mind. Time was a great healer, and she hoped her physical as well as mental scars would slowly diminish.
Back home in Los Angeles, she’d been attending law school for the last three years, taking night classes most evenings after work. Being a personal assistant was okay, but she wanted more from life. Her dream was to become a lawyer, and it had been that way since she was twelve years old. With pent-up frustration needing a release, she threw the hairbrush down on the dresser. Goddamn Nolan, her ex-boyfriend. The sadistic prick had made fucking sure that she couldn’t stay in the city she loved. She’d never forgive the sick bastard for that. She sighed out loud, before taking a deep breath to compose herself.
Well, that’s all ancient history now. Like it or not, my new life is here in Colorado.
But maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe her forced exile from LA came with certain compensations. She noticed the corners of her lips lift slightly into a smile as she stared at her reflection once more. Leonardo Caparelli was certainly compensation. Despite it being so early in the morning, she felt her pussy moisten with sexual desire when she thought about her new boss, and she squirmed uneasily on the dressing table stool.
Suddenly aware of what she was doing, she openly berated herself. “Stop thinking that way, woman. It’s not even breakfast time yet.” But her self-admonishment didn’t work. She couldn’t stop thinking about the six-foot-three-inch two-hundred-pound hunk, with the darkest hair and eyes she’d ever seen.
Oh, yeah, he is an arrogant bastard. There is no doubt about that. But he is also a sexy arrogant bastard, and more annoying still, Leonardo Caparelli is an extremely wealthy, sexy, arrogant bastard.
She stopped staring at her reflection, because she saw how turned on she’d become. He knew he was sexy, too. He knew woman found him attractive. Well, she wouldn’t make it obvious. She wouldn’t fall at his feet like probably hundreds of other women had. She’d play it cool. She’d act the consummate professional at all times—the Ice Queen with a job to do.
As she stood from the dresser, she scanned her new environment. The separate annex that came with the job lay nestled in the grounds of his impressive home, and was well screened from view. It was comfortable without being in any way opulent or luxurious. The word that came to mind was functional. The accommodation consisted of a living area, kitchen, bathroom, and one acceptably sized bedroom. Tastefully furnished in neutral shades of cream and beige, she would put her own stamp on it when she found the time. As soon as the opportunity arose, she would hang her pictures on the wall, giving the place that personal touch. Some happy memories of LA, the ones before Nolan Wells entered her life, would soon make her new surroundin
gs feel more like home.
Securing the front door to the annex, she headed toward the big house, taking the crisp early-morning air deep into her lungs. The sun was just starting to rise, and an hour from now the dew lying on the grass would be burned away. Using the key Marie had given her, she entered Leonardo’s palatial home.
The house was eerily quiet, and as she stood in the magnificent hallway, she paused for a moment and looked around. My, my, how the other half live. Paige then headed for her new office and pushed open the door, before taking the work diary from the desk and studying it. There was much to do. Flights to be arranged. Hotels to be sorted. Tickets to be purchased, and appointments with important business clients to be made.
It was imperative that her business persona came across as professional, and that she needed to get things right straight away, because she figured that Mr. Caparelli was a man with extremely limited patience.
With her nose still buried in the diary, she headed toward the breakfast room. Her new boss certainly employed an efficient workforce, because the table was already laid with two place settings. She guessed Marie was responsible for this, because the cutlery lay perfectly aligned, while the glasses sparkled and the crisp linen napkins were neatly folded.
Paige stopped abruptly when she heard a venomous female voice screech, “Who the fuck are you?”
She turned to see a bedraggled woman, obviously the worse for liquor, slumped in an easy chair in the corner of the room. Her face was partially hidden by a tangled mat of dyed blonde hair.
“Excuse me?”
The woman tried to stand, but finding it too difficult, quickly gave up, and Paige noticed she cradled a half-empty bottle of tequila.
Her words slurred from her mouth in a belligerent tirade. “You seem to have a problem with your hearing, sweetie, so I’ll repeat myself. I said who the fuck are you?” This time she spoke with even more undisguised venom.
Keeping her dignity intact, something the visitor seemed unable to do, she calmly replied, “I’m Paige Palmer. Mr. Caparelli’s new executive personal assistant.” She now recognized the drunken woman as Cherise Samuels, the supermodel. Although the state she was in, it was hard to imagine why anyone in their right mind would pay twenty thousand dollars a day for her services. Looking a complete mess, she’d obviously come straight from an all-night party. She wore just a single stiletto, which dangled precariously from her toes. Her dress, if you could call it that, was revealing in the extreme, and her breasts were more out than in.
Paige had seen her image many times in the glossy magazines. Usually draped suggestively over her new boss. She didn’t like the look of her then, and she liked her even less now. She guessed she’d tried to make her way to his bedroom, but her intoxication had defeated her before she could climb the stairs.
Cherise lifted the bottle of tequila to her lips and took another hit before wiping the back of her hand across her mouth and smearing her lipstick. It now matched her mascara, which ran down her cheeks. She leaned forward in the chair and pointed an accusing finger, which she couldn’t stop from wavering about. “Huh,” she snorted disdainfully. “Personal assistant. You’re Leon’s new personal assistant? You won’t last. Just like the rest of them, you won’t last.”
Dislike her? Strike that. She was beginning to loathe the very sight of Cherise Samuels, but she wouldn’t allow herself to sink to the supermodel’s level. Determined to remain professional at all times, Paige took a deep breath. “Won’t last? I think that’s up to me and Mr. Caparelli, don’t you?”
The blonde antichrist in the corner suddenly exploded into demonic laughter. “You fucking want him, don’t you? Just like every other bitch of a personal assistant he’s had. Well, let me explain something to you, sweetie. He wouldn’t be interested in fucking you.” With a condescending sneer to her face, Cherise looked her up and down. “Take a look at yourself. Look at your clothes. Look at your makeup. Jesus Christ, you’ve even got fucking split ends. You’re never gonna feel Leon’s huge cock spreading you wide, or hear him whisper your name as he fucks you so sweetly. You’re out of your depth, so fuck off back to wherever you came from while you still have the chance.”
Struggling to comprehend what was going on, Paige slowly shook her head. Was this deeply unpleasant scenario really happening, or was she going to jolt awake from her horrendous nightmare any moment soon? This was the first day in her new job, and if she wasn’t so desperate to keep it, she’d have walked across and slapped the sneer from Cherise Samuels overly made-up face, and she’d have enjoyed it, too. How dare this overpaid clotheshorse speak to her like that? She wanted to shake her skeletal frame and say, “Take a look in the mirror. You don’t look too good yourself.” But she wouldn’t, because she hadn’t been brought up that way.
Cherise threw back her head and took another slug of tequila. “He’s my man, bitch, and don’t you ever forget it.”
Paige wondered what the hell this crazy woman was on. Liquor certainly, but she guessed Cherise Samuels was never far away from a line of coke, too. No human being could naturally be so skinny. Whatever she was on, it didn’t do much for her temperament.
Rather than escalate matters, Paige decided to try and calm things down. “Cherise,” she said quietly. “We seem to have gotten off to a bad start. If we could just treat each other with a little respect, then—”
“Aghh.” Cherise’s anger knew no bounds, and she hurled the now empty bottle of tequila at her. Paige barely had time to duck before it smashed against the wall of the breakfast room. “Fuck you, bitch. I don’t take any lessons in manners from you. I earn more in a week than you earn in a year. Ten years even.”
As Paige shielded her face in an attempt to stop any wayward shards of glass from cutting or even blinding her, she heard a commanding voice from behind her say, “Enough, Cherise.” When she felt strong, yet comforting hands take hold of her shoulders, she instantly felt safe. Leonardo would deal with this crazy woman, she felt sure of that.
With his welcome masculine warmth permeating the tiny divide between her body and his, she noticed that Cherise seemed reluctant to continue with her foul-mouthed tirade. Instead, she submissively lowered her head, appearing afraid to hold his gaze.
“I’m sorry, Leon, but—”
Without a hint of warmth in his voice, he said, “We’re finished. You know that. How the hell did you get in here?”
Still looking at the floor, she quietly mumbled, “I had a spare key made, before I handed back the original.”
He strode across to her and held out his hand. “Give it to me. Now.”
“But, Leon—”
“I said now, Cherise.”
At this point, Paige felt almost sorry for the obviously distressed woman, because her anger had turned to despair, and she threw herself on the floor then wrapped her bony arms around his legs. She then started to sob uncontrollably. “Please don’t make me give the key back, Leon. Please let me stay. We were great together once. We can be great together again. Please let me stay. I can’t bear to think of you with someone else. Why can’t I have just one more chance?”
“Because I don’t trust you. I never did.”
“But, but,” she sobbed.
He roughly took hold of her chin and angled her face to his. “You sold the blueprints to the latest Caparelli to my competitors. It’s called industrial espionage, Cherise, and you’re lucky I didn’t involve the cops. If I had, you’d be eating prison food for a very long time.” Paige saw his fingers dig into the obnoxious woman’s flesh, and she couldn’t help but wince. “Even you’re not dumb enough to think that Leonardo Caparelli would ever forgive you for that. Did the money they gave you keep you well supplied with cocaine, or has it run out, just like your modeling contract has? Oh, yes, Cherise, I make it my business to know everything. That’s why you’ve come back here. You need my money to fuel your habit.”
Almost as though she realized the game was up, Cherise suddenly stopped crying. S
he wrenched herself away from him and fell back into the chair. This time she seemed unafraid to hold his gaze. “That’s it then?”
“That’s it, Cherise. Get the hell out of here, and never come back.”
Her old arrogance had returned, and with what could only be described as sheer hatred, Paige heard her say, “Fuck you, Leon. Fuck you all the way to hell, and fuck that little bitch of a personal assistant, too.”
Paige saw the growing anger in his beautiful dark eyes as he yanked Cherise from the chair, turned her around, and pushed her toward the door. “Go.”
Only, she wasn’t finished, and she had yet more vitriol to spew. Cherise turned on her heels, and with a rictus grin to her face, said, “Oh, by the way, sweetie. Did your new boss tell you about his mother?”
Paige immediately knew that Cherise had struck a raw nerve, because she saw Leonardo’s dark eyes flash in anger again as he gave his ex-girlfriend another shove in the right direction. “I said go, Cherise.” His tone was uncompromising, and she knew he meant business.
Clearly wanting to cause as much distress as possible, she resisted. “Had the old lady locked up in the nuthouse years ago. The crazy old woman hasn’t been right in the head since his pa died. Ain’t that the truth, Leon?”
Paige found herself holding her breath. Dear God those cutting words had certainly hit the spot, exactly as the vicious bitch had intended. A silent standoff between the two then ensued as they eyed each other with disgust. Wondering what would happen next, she felt her heart beating out of control. She didn’t need to wait long, because Leonardo soon emerged from his state of statue stillness. He simply exploded into movement, and in less than the blink of an eye, he threw Cherise over his shoulder and strode down the impressive hall to the front door. Her vocabulary of four-letter words was extensive, and she used every single one of them as he carried her away, kicking and screaming like a wild banshee. However, Leonardo was such a powerfully built man that her petulant protestations came to nothing. Using his left hand, he pulled open the solid oak door, and threw her out. His anger was such that she landed a good six to eight feet from him.
