The Italian Tycoon's Mistress

by Cathy Williams

  ‘I hadn’t intended this when I asked His Highness whether I could cover a meal for the six of us on company expenses.’ Amy grimaced, giving one hundred per cent of her attention to Dee and thereby not risking the temptation to glance around her for the man she was trying to avoid.

  ’ His Highness?’ Dee laughed and shot her a knowing look. ‘That’s a touch sarcastic considering you two act as though you’ve got something going.’

  ‘Something going?’

  ‘Not necessarily of a sexual nature, you understand, but there’s a bit of electricity there. We’ve all noticed it, especially this past week or so.’

  Amy forced a laugh. ‘It’s not my fault he’s in a foul mood. The man is a law unto himself.’

  ‘Why did you decide to leave?’ Dee asked curiously. ‘He offered us all a brilliant deal.’

  ‘Like I said, I always wanted—’

  ‘I know all that, but why…really…?’

  While Amy was struggling to think up a suitably lame answer they were interrupted by a splinter group of the young set and the moment, and the embarrassment of it, was lost.

  It still took two glasses of champagne before Amy felt relaxed enough to look around her, interested to see familiar faces and their partners, who were never quite how she imagined them to be. Marcy, Andy and Tim had all brought theirs, and she fell into natural conversation with them, discussing their respective moves and glossing over what she intended to do with herself.

  She still hadn’t spotted Rocco, but then she hadn’t been looking, had been making sure not to look, and by the time she did finally see him they were all on their way into the grand dining room where name cards had been placed on every table. Blessedly she was not on Rocco’s. In fact, she was at the table furthest from him, but not so far that she couldn’t see just how devastatingly handsome he looked. He dominated the head table, not simply because he was taller than everyone else on it, but because there was something so compelling about the way he stood, one hand in his trouser pocket so that his black jacket flipped over his wrist. Across the crowds, his fabulous eyes were watchful, carefully skimming the assembled groups and disastrously catching hers before she had sufficient time to glance away. The individual voices around her faded into background noise, just a dull throb, and for a few seconds she couldn’t breathe. Literally. Then his eyes were moving on, having revealed nothing in their depths when he had looked at her.

  Amy couldn’t concentrate on the conversation swirling around her. She toyed with her starter, nervously aware of his presence now that she had located the table at which he was sitting. If she hadn’t known where he was, she could merrily have continued to focus on what was immediately happening around her. As it was, she found her eyes skittering across the room to find him and hating herself for her weakness when it was apparent from what she saw that his eyes certainly weren’t drawn to her.

  She was barely aware of the wine she was drinking or of the food being taken away and replaced efficiently by yet more food, followed by dessert, which sat on a plate in front of her in an unidentifiable lump, something else to be played with.

  The sharp clink of a spoon being tapped against a glass brought her out of her daze as a cup was being deposited in front of her and she realised that Rocco had stood up.

  There was no need for him to draw attention to himself again. If ever there was a man born to be a leader and to command attention, then it was him. The noise levels in the room, which had been considerably heightened with the steady consumption of alcohol over the course of the evening, died away, and Rocco remained standing, waiting until there was a hushed silence.

  He looked casually, impossibly and unfairly elegant and he moved into speech without the usual clearing of throat or apologetic joke to grab everyone’s attention.

  Glancing around her, Amy wryly thought that he could have been a hypnotist, because everyone at her table had a mesmerised look on their faces as they listened. She was sure that if he had suddenly pointed across the room to Carl and instructed him to hop like a rabbit, then the apprentice surveyor would have obliged.

  He didn’t, naturally. Instead, in his deep, sexy voice he thanked them all for their invaluable help while he had been there and their boundless support in the face of necessary changes that had to be made. He cracked a couple of wry jokes before the speech had time to become too heavy, mentioned a couple of people by name, which made Amy realise just how sharp his brain was because even when he had had no idea that he might have been staying on, he had still filed away information that he could pull out of his hat like a magician, had still paid minute attention to the people working with him, had still remembered names from the lowliest member of staff to the most influential.

  He ended by raising a toast to his father, much to Amy’s surprise, for his foundation of a company that had weathered all manner of setbacks over the years. Then, in the middle of draining the wine from her glass, she heard her name being mentioned and suddenly heads were swivelling in her direction as, embarrassed, she realised that Rocco was now looking at her, thanking her personally for her contributions over the years, informing the assembled crowd that she would be the only member of staff leaving and she would be sorely missed, he was certain, by everyone in the company.

  Amy blushed furiously and smiled in a self-effacing fashion at her friends around her.

  ‘And as a show of appreciation…’

  Oh, no, she thought, knowing what was about to happen and already dreading every minute of it, please tell me, God, that I don’t have to go up there and accept a leaving gift…

  ‘Perhaps Miss Hogan would like to come up and accept a leaving gift from all of us…’

  The rousing clapping and cheering had her looking longingly at the exit, then she was being pushed to her feet and propelled in the direction of Rocco, who had now been joined by Marcy carrying a huge gift and by Claire behind her with a bouquet of flowers.

  She knew that he was watching her, knew that it would be a massive mistake to catch his eye because if she did she was absolutely certain that her legs would immediately stop functioning and she would topple over and fall flat on her face.

  The wine, which had had no effect on her throughout the course of the evening, now seemed to catch up with her bloodstream with a vengeance.

  ‘You’re beginning to look worse for wear,’ Rocco murmured into her ear as she sidled past him towards Marcy, and Amy tilted her chin giddily but defensively up, ignoring his softly spoken remark.

  The thrill of what she had received made her temporarily forget his presence just behind her.

  It was an impressively framed collage of all the projects she had ever worked on, starting with her very first, and the broad mounting was signed by every member of the company.

  She heard herself stammer out thanks, feeling like an unexpected winner at the Oscars. Her voice was wobbly, which earned her warm applause, and before she could break down completely Rocco took charge and informed the guests that the speeches were over. It was time to have fun and start the dancing. At which point, on cue, lights were dimmed and a DJ, whom she hadn’t even noticed, went into action.

  ‘I don’t suppose you want to be lugging this great thing around with you for the remainder of the evening…’

  Amy stiffened at the expression on Rocco’s face. An evening of alcohol and jollity had obviously done very little for his disposition because he was unsmiling.

  ‘I was about to take it outside, get the chap there to keep an eye on it for me. Thank you very much, by the way, for organising it.’ Her voice matched his expression although her heart was pounding furiously. Her senses were on full alert, all trace of light-headedness gone, just as all trace of illness had vanished when he had walked through the door of her house almost two weeks previously.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ was all he said and he lifted the enormous picture and began walking towards the exit.

  Amy looked round her to see that everyone was having a great time,
throwing themselves across the floor loosely in tune to the music or else in groups, drinking and chatting.

  Then she looked towards Rocco’s back as he strode towards the exit with her picture and caught between hunting out familiar faces in the semi-darkness or following Rocco, she chose the latter option. Even carrying the heavy, cumbersome object, she still had to walk quickly to catch up with him, which she did just as he was depositing the picture with the security guard and giving instructions that it was to be looked after.

  Out of the normal working environment in which she could pigeon-hole him into the category of her employer, Amy felt suddenly conscious of herself, her appearance and her body, so lovingly outlined in its wretched garment.

  ‘Thanks…’ She laughed nervously while he perched against the large desk that had been vacated by the security guard who was taking the picture somewhere safe. Half sitting, she was now more on an eye level with him. ‘It’s a wonderful leaving present.’ There was no helpful contribution from him to ease the awkward conversation along. He simply folded his arms and stared at her until she felt her skin begin to prickle.

  ‘Shall we…shall we go back inside? I guess people might start wondering where we are…’

  ‘So how does it feel?’

  For one panic-stricken second she had the disorienting feeling that he was reading her mind, that somehow he had clocked what she felt for him and was asking her to explain herself.

  ‘How does what feel?’ Amy said faintly.

  ‘To only have a few days to go before you leave the company.’

  ‘Oh. Right. Weird, I guess. It feels weird.’ Relief made her suddenly garrulous. ‘I’ve been there for so long that it’s become a sort of second home for me, but it’s exciting as well, you know…to be facing another challenge…’

  ‘You’ve been avoiding me. Why?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about…’

  A few stragglers emerged out into the wide, open hall but were too merry to give them much of a second glance.

  ‘I really think we ought to go back in…’

  ‘Not until this conversation is finished. Come on.’ He pushed himself away from the desk and, before her brain could connect, Amy found herself being ushered outside, down the curving stone steps and out into the open lawns.

  ‘Look, Rocco, I’ll finish the conversation, but can we go back in?’ Darkness and stars in the sky would be just a little bit too much. ‘I’m cold.’

  ‘Take this.’ He shrugged out of his jacket and slung it over her shoulders and for just the shadow of a second she gave in to the temptation to close her eyes and breathe deeply, breathing in that faint, unmistakable aroma of him.

  They found a bench and sat down. From here, she couldn’t even hear the sound of the music inside and the glory of the manicured lawns stretched around them like a still, dark lake.

  ‘You’ve been acting like a cat on a hot tin roof every time I’ve been around and I want to know why.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I hadn’t realised…’

  ‘Don’t lie to me!’

  He had turned to look at her, and his arm was outstretched along the back of the bench.

  ‘It’s been awkward for me, all right? Being around you…’

  ‘Why?’ Rocco asked softly.

  ’ employees always feel awkward around their bosses once they’ve handed in their notice and I know you don’t approve of what I’m doing.’

  ‘I don’t disapprove of what you’re doing,’ Rocco said with an edge to his voice. ‘I felt obliged to point out the pitfalls.’

  ‘Because you think you can run other people’s lives for them?’ She turned to face him, but in the darkness it was all shadows and angles and dangerously familiar. ‘Besides, you’ve been in a foul mood lately and it’s just easier avoiding someone when they’re in a foul mood.’

  Rocco shifted uncomfortably on the bench and scowled at her averted face. Yes, he had been in a foul mood. Yes, he had convinced himself that it was a bloody good thing the woman was leaving the company because even when she wasn’t physically within eye-range, she was still an unnecessary distraction. In fact, she had been an unnecessary distraction from day one and distractions and work didn’t mix.

  ‘I happen to have a lot on my plate at the moment,’ he grated. ‘Commuting between London and New York doesn’t qualify as one of life’s more relaxing experiences.’

  ‘Which doesn’t mean that you have to take it out on other people.’ Amy shrugged and continued staring straight ahead.

  ‘I haven’t heard anyone else complaining.’

  ‘That’s because everyone’s scared of you.’ This time she looked at him, shivering as the full force of his proximity wrapped around her.

  ‘Except you…’ She looked like a kid sitting there with his jacket over her, a kid who’d rummaged in an adult’s cupboard and decided to try on something five sizes too big. No kid, though, he reminded himself, and certainly not the gullible innocent he had felt duty-bound to save from her own destiny. She had kicked him straight in the groin when she had delivered that scathing remark about using him as temporary therapy to tide her over after her breakup. His mouth tightened, yet again, at the thought of it, but he still found himself savagely rejecting the advice from his head telling him to leave the situation alone and to go back to the safety of inside.

  ‘Look at me when I’m talking to you,’ he rasped out.

  ‘Or else what?’

  Rocco demonstrated by reaching up to curve his hand beneath her chin and a flood of heat licked through her. She looked at him, every nerve in her body alive and alert.

  ‘That’s better.’

  ‘You are the most arrogant man I have ever come into contact with, do you know that?’

  ‘But I still make you tremble…’

  ‘I’m going inside. I don’t want to have this conversation with you…’

  ‘No, you are not!’ His hand snapped out, circling her wrist, and he pulled her back down and now she was sitting so close to him that her thigh was touching his. ‘Were you hurt?’ he demanded, loathing his weakness in dragging this conversation out when he knew that he was just lining himself up for another gunshot wound to his male pride.

  ‘Hurt by what?’

  ‘Hurt that I’ve been in such a bad temper towards you…’ Her softly indrawn breath and that fractional pause sent a flare of pleasurable certainty rushing through him. He sensed her looking for a way of denying his accusation. He wasn’t going to let her have her way and he tossed aside any notion that his reaction was based on avenging his hurt pride. He wanted her back in his bed.

  ‘I just didn’t understand…’

  ‘Have you missed me?’ He cupped her face with his hand and felt her tremulous response, which gave him a kick of pure satisfaction.

  ‘Should I have?’

  ‘You’ve missed me.’

  Amy was thrown into a state of hideous confusion by the swiftness of his assumptions and their accuracy. In that brief, panicked pause he had leapt to the correct conclusions. Rattled, she now didn’t know how to extract herself from the situation and his eyes were pinning her to the bench, making her squirm under their intensity.

  ‘I…I…’ she stammered in desperate retreat.

  ‘I’ve missed you too,’ he breathed, startling himself and her with the unexpected confession.

  ‘You haven’t missed me, Rocco. You’ve missed being in control because I broke things off, because…’

  ‘Stop arguing.’ He leant forward and was suddenly, overwhelmingly aware of how long he had been itching to do this, to lose himself in her lips.

  There was no room for protest as his mouth descended on hers and with a soft groan Amy parted her lips so that their tongues met, so that they could explore each other. He grasped the lapels of his jacket, which she was wearing, and pulled her into him, forcing her head back as the kiss deepened and became infused with urgency.

  Amy struggled free, intending to push hi
m away, intending to cling to her hard-gained resolutions to walk away from a dangerous involvement, and heard herself mutter shakily, ‘We can’t…everyone’s inside…they’ll start wondering where we are…’

  Rocco heard the capitulation in her words and a soaring sense of pleasure and satisfaction flooded through him.

  ‘I doubt that very much but if you like we can go inside and say our goodbyes…’

  Amy emitted a little squeak of horror. ‘No!’

  ‘Then we’ll just have to sneak off.’

  ’ Sneak off?’

  ‘Like a couple of teenagers playing truant.’

  Before her brain could get into gear, he had stood up and taken her hand, pulling her along to the car park and then depositing her inside his car.

  ‘Wait here,’ he ordered, ‘I’m going to go and retrieve the leaving presents.’

  ‘We can’t. What if…?’

  ‘Life’s too short for what ifs.’

  Amy had fifteen minutes to ponder this nugget of wisdom and then his dark shape was heading towards her, picture in his arms and the bouquet of flowers dangling from his fingers. He opened the boot of the car, dumped both inside and then got into the driver’s seat.

  Instead of turning on the engine, though, he swivelled around to look at her.

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ he asked in a low voice. ‘Because if you aren’t, this is the time to say so.’

  ‘No,’ Amy said truthfully, ‘I’m not sure…’

  Rocco turned away and she placed one small hand on his wrist.

  ‘I’m not sure because I don’t want to end up being hurt and I know that getting hurt is going to be part of the deal, but you’re right. Life’s too short to worry about the consequences.’

  Life was too short, she thought sadly to herself, to think about the empty months stretching ahead once he had walked out of her life, wondering what might have happened if she had thrown caution to the winds and slept with him again.

  ‘Why do you assume that you’ll end up being hurt?’

  ‘Because that’s the kind of guy that you are, Rocco. You hurt women.’