‘Oh?’ His eyebrows arched. ‘You appreciate nice scenery.’
‘Yes.’
His mouth almost curved. ‘There’s much more than scenery to be experienced in Milan. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.’
He knew she’d not been to Milan. And now she definitely wasn’t going to let her feelings for him get in the way of her going. ‘I’m quite sure I will.’
‘Marvellous,’ George said.
Phoebe smiled weakly, feeling instant regret at the wolfish expression in Edo’s eyes.
She’d go on this trip and then she would find another job.
* * *
The next morning, she arrived as early as usual only to find George had yet to make an appearance, while Edo was already eyeball-deep in reports, looking like he’d been there for hours. Suited, clean-shaven, focused. Pure billionaire boss on duty. She’d looked up his company online and died when she’d seen its market valuation. No wonder that magnificent vineyard washis—he needed something to spend his spare billions on.
Thankfully he disappeared from the boardroom not long after she arrived. Probably waiting for the safety net that was George. Ten minutes later there was still no George. She was hard at work on a report when a tanned strong forearm entered her view and placed a steaming coffee on her desk. She reared away from the cup as if it were a poisonous snake about to strike.
‘You don’t want coffee?’ Edo asked, eyes narrowing. ‘Black, one sugar, right?’
‘I’ve gone off it,’ she blurted, so shocked she couldn’t stop herself.
She’d been off it for a few weeks, actually. The smell was too strong and, despite her tiredness, she couldn’t bring herself to drink it.
‘Right.’ He stepped back, turning away before she could even muster a polite smile.
His withdrawal was more than physical, and instant regret—loss—hit. She could have—should have—thanked him, because she was ridiculously touched that he’d remembered how she preferred it. But he had a third coffee on that tray—one for George too—so he’d not meant anything special by getting her one. He was being polite. Making an effort to form a more normal ‘boss and personal assistant’ relationship. Except she was the personal assistant and by rightssheshould be bringing the coffee. Not him. She fidgeted with her pen, wishing George would hurry up and arrive because he made the perfect chaperone. But ten minutes later George phoned to tell her he was going to work from home for the day. She met Edo’s eyes as she listened to George, then ended the call. And then she couldn’t look away from him with his shirt sleeves rolled back, revealing the sun-kissed skin, the muscles. He didn’t move from where he stood at the opposite end of the room but suddenly she felt steamier than if she’d been in an endless hot yoga class and knew she couldn’t be alone in here with him for the entire day—
‘Phoebe—’ But his phone rang just as he spoke and he swung away to answer it.
There was a series of calls in which he spoke in increasingly abrupt Italian. She had no hope of understanding a word of it. When he left the room she put her head down and with increasing desperation tried to focus. But she still kept watch for him as she had for all these days. She was so hyperaware and every other thought was inappropriate. It was unstoppable and as exhausting as it was exhilarating.
Towards the end of the day he approached her with a too controlled pace, his hands jammed in his pockets, his expression tense.
‘George can’t come with us to Milan tomorrow.’ He shoved his phone in his pocket with a vicious movement.
She froze. ‘Why not?’
‘He’s unwell. He’ll fly out as soon as he’s feeling better.’
‘Poor George,’ she mumbled awkwardly. ‘So we’ll delay our departure too?’
Edo shook his head. ‘There are meetings I must attend.’
‘I’ll wait here for George.’
Edo stared at her moodily. ‘George wants you to attend and report back to him. Seemingly, he trusts you very much.’
She stared at her keyboard, trying to hide the illicit thrill coiling inside her. She wanted to be alone with him. She’d wanted to be alone with him again formonths. Having him near was torture and she couldn’t even look at him for fear he’d see the desire in her eyes. But she had to get over it—prove to herself that she could control it. That she wasn’t going to ruin her life again because of some man. Because of her ownextremereactions. She was stronger than that.
‘He’s right to,’ she muttered defiantly. ‘I’ll do a good job.’
‘We’ll leave first thing as originally planned,’ he said briskly. ‘I’ll send a car to collect you.’
She jerked up and glared at him. ‘That’s not necessary. I’m capable of getting myself to the airport.’
He inhaled sharply. ‘It’s an early flight—’
