by Jan Bowles
Paige watched mesmerized as he pointed a finger at Cherise. “You’re done here.”
Although Cherise had used all the vitriolic ammunition at her disposal, she’d still failed to dent Leonardo’s armor, and finally realizing this, she picked herself up and ran from the house like a scolded cat, hopefully never to seen by either of them again.
Chapter Three
Leonardo slammed the heavy oak door shut, and with anger still coursing through his veins, strode down the hallway that led to the breakfast room. What the fuck would his new personal assistant make of this? The poor girl looked shell-shocked. Even in her worst nightmare, she wouldn’t have expected this to happen on the first day in her new job.
When he entered the breakfast room, he saw Paige crouched on the floor, picking shards of glass from the carpet. She must have heard him come in, because she turned her head and with a tremulous voice whispered, “It was a bottle of tequila, Mr. Caparelli. She threw it at me.”
Her beautiful emerald-green eyes were still wide with shock and fear, and he tried to lighten the mood by saying, “Tequila? She usually drinks gin, and plenty of it.” His approach seemed to work, because her downturned mouth briefly curved into a sensuous smile.
“Leave it. You’ll cut yourself. I’ll get Marie to see to it later.” He took hold of her hand and pulled her upright. She barely came to his chest, and when she put tiny little fingers to her mouth, they trembled uncontrollably. She seemed so fucking vulnerable, and for him, another word for vulnerable was sexy. Failing to control an overpowering urge to comfort and protect her, he felt compelled to wrap his arms around her and pull her close. So close that the creamy soft skin of her cheek lay nestled against his chest.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Caparelli.” Her husky words were as shaky as the legs she stood on. “I’m not normally like this. I’m usually able to—”
“Shhh, Paige.” Leonardo rested his chin on top of her head. “No one could have foreseen what would happen today.” The smell of apple blossom shampoo drifted from her beautiful chestnut locks, and he took a deep breath, filling his nostrils with her delicious scent.
He was addicted to women. It had been this way for as long as he could remember. He loved all of them, but specifically ones who possessed a sexy vulnerability, along with a submissive nature. These were the women who fuelled his sexual fantasies, and standing with Paige cradled in his arms, he realized she could be one of them. However, his sudden awareness of this enchanting woman created a dilemma. Of all the women he’d slept with over the years, and there were too many to count, he was damned sure that not one of them had been an employee of his.
When still a child, he vividly remembered Caparelli Motors as a thriving business. That was until his father tragically died some twenty-eight years ago. His grief-stricken mother proved unable to cope with the loss of the man she loved more than life itself, and as a result, the once-successful company fell into financial difficulties, which were further exacerbated by an inept and self-serving management team. They convinced his clinically depressed mother that changes needed to be made, or the company would go bankrupt.
Oh yes, there were changes all right. Changes for the worse. He still seethed with anger when he thought of the proud Caparelli name being displayed on washing machines and refrigerators. Even though he was only ten years old at the time, he vowed to restore Caparelli Motors to its former glory.
A good education certainly helped, and when he left Harvard Business School aged twenty-one, he took hold of the reins to the company, exactly as his late father had wished. Over the next seventeen years, he spent every God-given hour returning the ailing business to health. He hired the best engineers and technicians available, and even had a state-of-the-art factory built in Italy. Today, Caparelli Motors was thriving once more, by doing what it did best—producing the finest hand-built sports cars in the world.
Right from his early days in charge, he’d vowed never to mix business with pleasure. He’d seen too many successful companies fold when a woman came between a CEO and his workforce. He’d kept that pledge for all these years, but there was something about Paige. Something about the way she made him feel. Something about the way she made his cock harden as he held her in his arms and comforted her.
Acutely aware that he battled mixed emotions, Leonardo reluctantly let her go, then keeping his eyes focused on those stunning green emeralds, he pulled out a chair for her. She respectfully thanked him before sitting down. As he took a seat himself, Marie entered the breakfast room with fresh coffee and a huge silver salver loaded with ham and eggs.
“Marie.”
“Yes, Mr. Caparelli.”
“Tell Marvin to replace all the locks.”
“Certainly, sir.”
“And, Marie?”
“Yes, Mr. Caparelli?”
“Ms. Samuels is never to be allowed in the house again. Should she arrive uninvited, call the police and have her removed. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes, Mr. Caparelli. Would you like me to clear up the glass?”
“Not right now, Marie, later.”
His housekeeper nodded compliantly and then made her way from the room.
Leonardo loaded his plate with ham and eggs, and despite Paige shaking her head and attempting to cover her plate, he did the same for her. “You need to eat. You’re no good to me if you faint.” He was her boss and she needed to understand that, and he intended to start as he meant to go on.
Clicking firmly into full business mode, he matter-of-factly said, “Paige, when we’re working together in the company of others, you will always refer to me as Mr. Caparelli or sir. As I introduce you to my employees, both here in Colorado and also in Italy, you’ll see that most address me as the latter. However, should we be alone and away from a business setting, I would have no objection to you calling me either Leon or boss.”
Leonardo watched her wonderful eyes widen slightly, and he saw her face and elegant swanlike neck blush a fetching shade of pink. He guessed she was trying to figure out which environment they were currently in. Eventually after analyzing the situation for some time, she said, “Thank you, Mr.—um, I mean, Leon.”
He smiled and he loved the way she smiled right back at him. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“No.”
He could tell she was still shaken from the earlier events, and in order to put her mind at ease, he decided to give her a limited explanation. “Cherise is ancient history now, and you’ll never see her again, but for the record, I tried everything in my power to help her with her drug addiction. In the end, it all proved futile, and the final straw came when a trusted member of my staff caught her e-mailing the technical details of the yet-to-be-revealed Caparelli Rio to a competitor. This behavior was unacceptable. I demand and expect trust in friends, lovers, and business associates. Do you understand, Paige?”
“Yes, s–sir,” she huskily whispered. The sound of her overtly submissive reply was like music to his ears.
His explanation had been meant to calm her, but apparently it had the opposite effect. The words he used frightened her, because he saw it in her eyes. Leonardo briefly contemplated the influence he had over her. Was fear such a bad thing? Fear had the effect of focusing one’s mind. After all, he liked the fact that his personal assistant was in awe of her new boss.
* * * *
Paige took a secretive glance over the rim of her coffee cup as she and Leon ate breakfast. Even after two weeks of sharing the same table at the ungodly hour of 6:30 a.m., she still had trouble getting her head around how fucking gorgeous her new boss was. Yes, he still came across as arrogant at times, but that arrogance could easily be construed as supreme confidence. Whatever it was, she found it sexy as hell. He had charm, too. An effortless charm—something he didn’t have to work at.
As usual, he wore a perfectly fitting Italian suit, which along with at least a dozen others, he’d had specially made and flown in from Rome. However, sometimes it was t
he smallest things that made the biggest impression, like now, when without taking his eyes from his newspaper, he loosened his gray silk tie ever so slightly. She adored the way his neatly trimmed, jet-black hair brushed against the collar of his tailored white shirt, and although he was always immaculately groomed, he would often permit the odd strand or two to fall across his forehead.
Sexy.
His piercing dark eyes suddenly lifted from the business section of The New York Times, and connected with hers. Jesus Christ, just this simple, apparently innocent action made her pussy wet with need. Oh, yes, truth be known, she’d masturbated thinking about Leon, and she’d fucking enjoyed it, too, and why the hell shouldn’t she? It was a pleasure every woman could enjoy free of charge, and long may it continue, unless of course the government decided to put a tax on self-simulation. If they did, it would certainly go a long way to reducing the fiscal deficit. She sniggered out loud at her own private thoughts, but quickly put a hand to her mouth to cover her amusement.
“What’s so funny, Paige?”
“Nothing, boss.” To divert attention from herself, she hastily added, “Don’t forget, you have a business appointment with Frank Granger from Marco Engineering at three this afternoon.”
Leon nodded. “Uh-huh. He wants to discuss the manufacturing process for the new camshafts we’ll be using from January next year.” Keeping his eyes focused on hers, he then folded his paper and placed it on the breakfast table. It partially covered the other five broadsheets that he insisted upon reading every morning, in order to stay informed of world events.
“What do you make of the Caparelli factory here in Colorado?”
She took a sip of coffee and nodded. “Impressive, boss.”
“I agree, but as I designed it myself, I would. I hope my factory in Italy will also meet with your approval.” He smiled, the most beautiful, sexy smile she’d ever seen. “It’s not in your diary yet, but we’ll be flying out there on the twenty-third. How does a week in Tuscany sound?”
Her mouth fell open. “Oh, Leon, believe me it sounds good. Very good.”
He mischievously wagged a finger. “Don’t forget we’re going there on business. It’s not a vacation, but”—he winked at her—“I think we can find time for a little fun, don’t you?”
Paige checked out his body language as he smiled across the table at her. His dark, almost black eyes seemed to suck her into the sexy, wealthy world that Leonardo inhabited. Was he coming on to her? She hoped so.
Oh, boy do I hope so, and if he is, I won’t be dumb enough to turn him down.
Reality suddenly crowded in. She’d have to stop indulging in these daytime fantasies, because what man would want her once they found out the truth?
Come on, it doesn’t hurt a girl to dream a little though, does it?
Thinking about it, he had grown more interested in her over the last ten days or so. On more than one occasion he’d come up behind her and placed his hands on her hips, then looked over her shoulder, apparently interested in matters of business. She loved it when he acted that way, and she wanted more. Paige had willingly taken in the refined essence of his expensive cologne and felt the slight stubble on his cheek as it brushed against hers. She’d been left with the distinct impression that if she’d turned her head toward him, he’d have kissed her.
Goddamn those carnal thoughts. They just kept right on coming and wouldn’t quit. But did her new boss share the same feelings as her, or was the aching wetness between her legs whenever he was around merely a symptom of her fantasy, and her fantasy alone?
Although nothing had been said, or even implied, she felt sure he’d once shared the same type of relationship with Cherise as she had shared with Nolan—a D/s relationship. He had, she felt sure of it. It was that moment when he’d strode into the breakfast room on her very first day in the job, exactly two weeks ago. The very same day that crazy bitch had hurled a bottle of tequila at her. It was the way he’d spoken, the way he’d authoritatively bellowed, “Enough, Cherise.” His dominant tone had made his ex-girlfriend’s belligerent rant turn into a submissive whimper, and she’d immediately lowered her head and stared at the floor like a naughty schoolgirl. Oh, yes, Leon was certainly the master in that relationship, and it was only when her pitiful attempt at begging her master to take her back had failed that she’d turned into a snarling, hate-filled banshee again.
Paige still savored a certain satisfaction when she recalled Cherise being thrown from the house by Leon, and landing painfully on her scrawny ass.
Her boss stood abruptly from the table. “It’s seven thirty, Paige. Time we were going. It’s such a glorious day, I’ve decided we won’t take the Merc. We’ll travel in style instead. Ever been for a drive in a Caparelli?”
“A Caparelli,” she enthused. “Not even in my dreams.”
“Well, today is your lucky day, lady.” He took hold of her hand, and she rose from the table as he stared into her eyes. He wanted her. He desired her. He did, he did. She was finally starting to decipher the coded sexual messages he sent her. Well, she’d send some of her own, right back, letting him know she was more than willing, although she was frightened that he would be repulsed by what he saw should they become intimate.
“Your tie, boss,” she murmured in the sexiest voice she could muster.
He smiled, and she figured they were connecting. “My tie?”
“Let me straighten it for you, sir.”
Holding his gaze, she took the two steps that brought her as close to him as humanly possible. He responded just as she hoped, by taking hold of her hips. Staring up into his wonderfully hypnotic eyes, she slowly waggled the knot, until she felt it touch against his Adam’s apple.
“There. All done,” she whispered.
With each passing moment their connection became stronger. Their understanding of each other’s needs becoming more obvious as a growing raft of subtle sexual nuances filtered between them.
He stilled her hand. “Follow me.”
“Yes, boss.”
Paige followed his powerful, upright frame down the hallway that led to the front door. This particular vantage point gave her eyes plenty of time to feast on his tight little ass. As he continued to stride out in front of her, she figured that not a single ounce of fat mingled with the muscle that lay beneath his clothes.
Phew. She really needed to stop having these thoughts, but…?
As they made their way across the courtyard, he pointed a remote at what looked like a six- or seven-car garage. It was huge. Just like his house. Just like his ego and hopefully just like his cock. With an irritating whirring sound, the door obediently opened to reveal his personal Caparelli.
Chapter Four
Leonardo stood a good six foot three, but even so, she figured he grew a couple of inches as the early morning sun cast its dappled light over his pride and joy.
He spread his hands wide apart, gesturing expressively like only a man with Italian blood flowing through his veins could. “There she is. Magnificent, isn’t she?” His eyes appeared almost black, and sparkled with a passion that made her wonder how she would react were he to focus this amount of attention solely on her. He moved closer and caressed the curves of the bodywork. Now she understood why he referred to the Caparelli as she.
Leon turned to face her. “You are honored to stand so close to such beauty, Paige.” He tenderly stroked the gleaming paintwork again. “As my personal assistant, it is imperative that you gain product knowledge, so listen carefully and learn. The Caparelli Apollo has a three-hundred-and-eighty-three-cubic-inch engine. It is designed with twelve cylinders in a V formation, and quadruple camshafts. Each hand-built example produces over one thousand brake horsepower, and one thousand Newton meters of torque. This has the effect of crushing you into the seat and vacuuming the moisture from your eyeballs when you press the gas pedal to the floor. She weighs barely two thousand five hundred pounds. This is because she is constructed from carbon fiber, aluminum, and
titanium.”
Paige found herself nodding, not understanding a goddamn word he was saying. Clearly in full flow, he continued with a passion that bordered on obsession. “Such is the sense of occasion when one drives a Caparelli, I personally vet whom I am willing to sell them to. I’m aware that Caparelli Motors must function as a business, Paige, but I have no desire to sell my cars to people who won’t appreciate them.”
He finally stood back and expectantly awaited her response, his powerful chest heaving with adrenaline. “Well?”
Well what? Exactly what sort of reply did he expect from her? Obviously, she as a woman and he as a passionate Latin man had differing views when it came to cars. Paige drove an elderly beige Ford, but she couldn’t recall for the life of her which model it was. All she wanted from a car was one that started when she turned the ignition key and was good on gas mileage. Her car was neither. It had been towed to the workshop more times than she could remember, costing her money she really didn’t have, and to add insult to injury, it used gas like it was going out of fashion. Thinking about it now, she was due a change, because her current ride was a pile of crap.
Unsure what to say, she glanced across at him, only to see him do that Italian thing again. The one where he spread his hands wide, his palms up, as if to say, “I’m waiting Paige, and as your boss, I don’t like to be kept waiting.”
Still unsure how to respond, she stuttered, “Well…it’s very nice, and…um…does it um…does it come with a big trunk?”
