The Italian Tycoon's Mistress

by Cathy Williams

  She plastered her brightest smile on her face. ‘Would you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Actually, scrap the coffee. We ran out a couple of days ago and no one’s got around to replacing it. So that’s tea or water.’

  ‘I’m fine. I’m just here for a little…chat…and then I will be on my way.’

  Amy shrugged and led the way to her office, which was just another room, smaller than the first but in a similarly worn state. However, it did contain a desk, behind which she moved to sit, and a couple of chairs, one of which she indicated to Rocco.

  He seemed to dwarf the room. It was an illusion, of course, but it was still unsettling. Something about the unhurried way he looked around him before finally settling his attention on her rattled her. Surprising because, in the sort of work she did, she came into contact with men who were really a lot more unsettling than Rocco Losi.

  ‘What can I do for you?’ Amy asked, smilingly polite although the smile was in danger of wearing a bit thin.

  ‘I believe I asked to see you at my father’s offices yesterday?’

  ‘I know. Sorry about that but I was really very busy and I just couldn’t find the time to get away. How is your father doing? We were all really worried when he was taken ill with pneumonia. He told me that he was just a little run-down. It was a complete shock to learn that he’d been taken into hospital. I’ve tried to get in to see him every day, but he was still so weak that I don’t think my presence there did much good at all.’

  ‘Let us get one thing straight, Miss Hogan. I am here for absolutely the least amount of time possible. In the time that I am here, I expect cooperation from every member of my father’s staff. That includes yourself, however distant your outpost appears to be.’

  Amy stopped smiling and met his stare with one of her own. ‘Please accept my apologies. Now, perhaps you would like to tell me what I can do for you.’ Richard had been vague but ominous on the matter of Rocco’s visit and she hadn’t pressed him, assuming that he just wanted a quick run-down of the projects they had recently worked on and were currently undertaking. She was becoming uneasily aware that her blithe optimism might have been a tad misplaced.

  ‘What you can do for me is to tell me what your credentials are.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Your credentials.’

  ‘Is that really necessary?’ she asked, flushing under the cold, unwavering stare. ‘Antonio has always trusted me…’

  ‘My father is not running this company at the moment. I am. As things stand, there is a chance he may not be sufficiently fit to return to work, in which case it is my duty to take the company in hand and get it running the way I see fit before I leave this country.’ Despite the whirring of a fan that was poised perilously on top of one of the gun-metal-grey filing cabinets, the room was like an oven and Rocco pushed up the sleeves of his shirt. How these people could work in here was beyond him. His first summer in New York, before he had begun his meteoric rise, had been spent in a box like this. One bedroom, a tiny bathroom, a kitchen and the heat pouring through inadequate windows like treacle. Ten years on, his memories of such discomfort were blessedly dim. Now, his apartment was plush, air-conditioned throughout to cope with the soaring temperatures in summer, and a testimony to what top designers could do when money was no object.

  ‘What does that have to do with my credentials, Mr Losi?’ Amy asked coolly.

  On the verge of snapping, Rocco leaned forward and subjected her to the full force of his overpowering personality. ‘To be blunt, Miss Hogan, I’ll tell you what I have found since coming here. I have found a company that is successful more through default than strategy. The construction business is booming and my father happens to have cornered the market simply because Losi Construction has been around for a very long time and has consequently benefited from its reputation. The directors seem content to sit around and accept this happy state of affairs without questioning the possibility that other, more aggressive firms might creep up to challenge their monopoly of the market. It doesn’t take a financial wizard to spot the flaws in this way of thinking. Added to this, I find substantial sums of money being flung in the direction of a kid so that she can play at being a charity worker.’

  ‘A kid? Playing at being a charity worker? Would you be talking about me, Mr Losi?’

  ‘Very perceptive.’ Rocco lounged back in his chair and looked at her with cool indifference. Her brain seemed sharp enough but she was still a kid of, what…nineteen? Twenty? No make-up whatsoever. He was accustomed to dealing with women in business and was similarly accustomed to the power suits and the face paint.

  ‘I happen to be twenty-six years old, not that it’s any of your business…’

  ‘Oh, but that’s where you are wrong. It is my business. At least at this point in time. I am now your boss and, as your boss, I would be very interested in knowing what experience you have that qualifies you to deal with the sums of money you have been dealing with. Who is your immediate boss?’

  ‘My immediate boss has always been your father!’

  ‘So you’re telling me that you have free rein to do whatever you like, build whatever bijou shelters for the homeless that you want and what…? Casually mention it to my father? Run it by him at the odd meeting when you can find the time?’

  Amy felt a rush of angry blood to her head. This was beyond arrogance, but she was caught between a rock and a hard place. There was no way that she could throw him out of her office because he was, as he had made sure to point out, her boss for the time being and, more chillingly, might well be her boss for rather longer if Antonio somehow found himself having to take early retirement. Antonio was now in his seventies and the doctor had told her that the pneumonia might be far more debilitating at his age than it would have been had he been younger, especially when his angina was taken into consideration.

  ‘I resent your implication that this outfit lacks professionalism!’

  ‘Now why on earth would I be tempted to imply that?’ Rocco looked around him pointedly. At the grimy walls of the office, the tattered carpet, the cheap bookshelves groaning under the weight of law and land management books.

  ‘You, Mr Losi, are an extremely offensive person,’ Amy said through gritted teeth and was rewarded with a thunderous frown.

  ‘I will choose to ignore that observation.’

  ‘And, furthermore, the state of my office has nothing to do with the quality of my work! Or maybe things work differently in New York?’

  Rocco could hardly believe his ears. Just who did this pip-squeak think she was? The brown almond-shaped eyes were glittering with anger and it took some effort to call upon his formidable self-control. That, in itself, was a novel experience.

  ‘I think we’re getting off the point here, Miss Hogan.’ His voice was cold and measured. ‘In order of priority, I want to see your credentials, look in detail at this project you are working on and have a run-down of the cost. Additionally, I want to have a report from you on my desk by tomorrow morning, covering all the money that has been spent over the past two years on non-profit-making schemes and the few you have done that have actually benefited the company.’

  Amy gaped and then laughed out loud. ‘I’m afraid that just won’t be possible.’

  ‘Sorry. I don’t believe I just heard that.’

  ‘There’s no way I can do all that in time for tomorrow morning. Richard should have all that information anyway. Now, was there anything else?’ Okay, so she was reacting, allowing the man to get to her, but she couldn’t help herself. She stood up and stretched out her hand in dismissal. Rocco looked at the outstretched hand coolly and didn’t budge.

  ‘Sit back down, Miss Hogan. I’m not nearly through with you.’

  ‘I could have that information to you by the end of the week,’ she said, resuming her seat and looking with deep loathing at the man calmly sitting opposite her.

  ‘You say you’re twenty-six.’ Rocco crossed his legs and ignored the
olive branch she had extended. His allotted time to be spent here had come and gone and he realised that he was rather enjoying this clash of intellect and personality. To his mild surprise. ‘Which means you’ve been working for Losi Construction for what…? Four years…? You must have certainly made your presence felt quite strongly in a short space of time to have warranted the heady climb you’ve enjoyed.’

  ‘Ten years,’ Amy admitted grudgingly.

  ‘Ten years? That doesn’t add up.’

  ‘Doesn’t add up to what?’

  ‘To you leaving university.’

  The silence stretched interminably. ‘I didn’t go to university, Mr Losi. I joined your father’s firm straight from school.’

  Rocco couldn’t have looked more stunned if she had announced that she had been raised by a pack of wolves in Africa.

  ‘Not everyone gets the chance to go to university!’ Amy snapped defensively. ‘It’s a privilege, not a right.’ She couldn’t withstand the direct look in those piercing blue eyes and she lowered hers so that she could stare at the tip of a letter propped up on the desk.

  ‘You mean your grades were insufficient to get you into sixth form?’

  ‘I mean, Mr Losi—’ she drew in a deep breath and shot him a quick glance from under her lashes ‘—that my mother died when I was young and I was brought up single-handedly by my father. He developed Alzheimer’s when I was fourteen, and by the time I was sixteen I had no choice but to let the social services find somewhere for him to live. I finished my exams but I couldn’t continue my studies. I got a job working with your father and was lucky enough to be able to stay with a foster family until I was old enough to move out and find somewhere to rent. I would have loved to have been able to continue on at school and to have gone to university, but I could barely manage with Dad at home. I didn’t have a choice.’ She fiddled with the pen on her desk, knowing that he was staring at her. This was his big chance now, she thought bitterly. She had no credentials, no degree in a useful subject.

  ‘Right. So your credentials rest entirely on experience.’

  ‘As a clerk. Then as your father’s assistant. We worked together to build up a scheme to help the community and eventually I was given responsibility for managing it on my own.’

  ‘I see.’ Rocco felt himself grapple in unfamiliar territory. ‘And where…is your father now?’

  ‘He died two years ago.’ It would never stop hurting to talk about it, which was why she never did. ‘It was a blessing. He was very confused towards the end. He couldn’t remember who I was, kept getting me mixed up with Mum. So. There you have it.’ He had dragged this out of her and she hated him for it. ‘Would you like me to have this all typed up and on your desk as well? My life history?’

  Rocco flushed darkly. ‘There is no need for sarcasm.’

  ‘Oh, was I being sarcastic?’ She clung with relief to her need to attack. ‘I thought I was just obeying your instructions.’

  ‘My father trusted you and naturally I will give you credit for that trust.’ He shrugged and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. ‘However sympathetic I am towards the hardships that propelled you out of school prematurely and into the working environment, that does not mean that the sums of money being spent on charitable causes should remain unchecked. I am here to run a business and the first rule of business is that a company survives only if it makes money.’

  ‘I realise that,’ Amy said impatiently.

  ‘Do you?’ He sat back, once again comfortable with his persona. He had left England with nothing and climbed his way up solely on his own abilities. The value of making money had been embedded in him from the first moment he had begun working and living in New York.

  ‘Of course I do!’

  ‘In which case you will not mind me inspecting every penny that has been spent by your little outfit over the past two years.’

  ‘The information will be with you by the end of the week.’ And Lord only knew how he was going to react to the figures. He thought in black and white. No profit, no use. The concept of not making profit for the sake of returning to the community would be lost on him.

  ‘I don’t want it on my desk,’ Rocco said slowly.

  ‘But…’

  ‘I want you to bring it to me. Hand deliver the bad news, so to speak. That way we can go through it all together and you will be able to better understand why I intend to bring your cosy little office here to an end should I find myself having to linger here longer than I anticipate.’ He stood up, noticing that her face had drained of colour, and impatiently told himself that he was first and foremost a businessman. And not just any businessman. His shrewdness was legendary. How shrewd would he be if he allowed an unreasonable tug of compassion to undermine his ability to run a company?

  ‘Your father would never stand for it,’ Amy said confidently.

  ‘My father is in hospital, Miss Hogan, and the running of this company is entirely entrusted to me.’

  ‘Which is ludicrous, considering…’

  ‘Considering…what?’ Cold blue eyes narrowed threateningly. He stood up, all six feet two of dominant alpha male, and stared at her, waiting for an answer to a remark Amy knew she should never have made in the first place.

  ‘Considering…this is probably small potatoes to you,’ she improvised rapidly. ‘A bit dull, I imagine. You must do things differently over in New York and you might want to consider that when you start making your decisions.’ Considering, she thought to herself, that you’ve seen your father the grand total of four times in a decade. She knew that because Antonio had told her, because he had sheltered her under his wing and she had somehow become the child he had never really had.

  ‘Thank you so much for your advice,’ Rocco drawled, flicking on his mobile so that he could tell his driver to come for him. He tucked it into the pocket of his shirt and smiled coolly at her. ‘Though I rarely follow advice. I have usually found that it tends to be loaded and not necessarily in my favour.’ She looked down but he could feel her stewing, itching to fling him some caustic remark, and the enjoyment he had felt earlier kicked in him again.

  ‘Friday,’ he told her. ‘At my office. Bring the books and everything to do with whatever you’re working on at the moment and whatever you may happen to have in the pipeline. I’ll be waiting for you at three-thirty.’

  Outside, the gang of teenage youths had dispersed, replaced by two girls with pushchairs who were chatting. They looked young enough to be at school. Around him, the scenery consisted of cluttered streets leading off the main road. Edward was there, waiting. He must have just gone around the corner for a cup of tea until Rocco called him.

  Rocco didn’t immediately go to the car. He stood and carried on his leisurely inspection of the area, then he looked behind him to the office.

  Nightmare though it was to be thrown into this situation, when he himself had his own extensive businesses to run, he had to admit that at least it wasn’t going to be boring.

  They might all be scuttling around right now, whispering about him behind his back, but they would be very happy when he dragged the company into the twenty-first century and quadrupled the profits, which he was pretty certain he could do without a great deal of effort.

  That was one of the most disillusioning things about life, he thought grimly. Money always ended up talking…

  CHAPTER TWO

  AMY made sure that she was at the headquarters well before the appointed time of three-thirty. She had had three days to consider the threat that Rocco’s presence posed and several missed hours of sleep to work out that the best way of dealing with the man was to creep around him as much as she was capable of doing. Shooting her mouth off and turning up late for their meeting through some misplaced urge to prove a point would bring his wrath hurtling down on her like a ton of bricks.

  It didn’t help that she had been to see Antonio the day before, to find that the cocktail of antibiotics being fed into him was not working as efficie
ntly as they had expected. He certainly couldn’t be asked pivotal questions regarding the company. In fact, he dozed on and off for the duration of her visit and she was rewarded, on the way out, by the depressing news from the consultant that Antonio would certainly remain in hospital for at least another three weeks, after which he would benefit from a recuperative break in Italy where his relatives could look after him and where the concerns of his business would not intrude on his recovery. Rocco had been making all the necessary phone calls to get things moving in that direction.

  Which left a worst-case scenario, as far as Amy was concerned.

  Rocco would take over and begin making his changes, and change one would be to exterminate her and her fellow members of staff.

  Depressingly, the only person she felt she could possibly discuss this with was Antonio, who was not available for comment. Antonio had always been the first person she turned to with a problem, the only shoulder she had really ever cried on, and having him out of reach was a severe blow.

  She half expected Rocco to keep her waiting, having read somewhere that this was an age-old ploy for establishing superiority, but she was shown directly into his office to find him sitting behind his father’s desk with a stack of files in front of him that looked depressingly familiar.

  His face was unsmiling and as coldly handsome as she remembered. A face that would drive any portrait painter into the throes of excitement, with its perfect bone structure and harshly beautiful lines, but one that just filled her with dislike. She found his stunning eyes hard and forbidding and his emotional detachment radiated around him like a dangerous force field. It was difficult to maintain her self-composure when faced with this and when he nodded to the chair facing him, she sunk into it with relief.

  ‘You’re on time,’ he drawled, leaning back in the chair. ‘Amazing. I gather from your colleagues here that your timetables don’t often dovetail with everyone else’s.’

  Amy ventured a polite smile. ‘It’s difficult when you’re working out in the field, Mr Losi. Sometimes, things have a tendency to overrun and, with the long drive out to Stratford, I can get behind schedule with meetings. I’ve brought the files you wanted.’ She reached down to her briefcase, snapped it open and extracted a clear window envelope bulging with various project notes.