‘But—’
‘Could you not reject everything I offer?’ he snapped, glowering at the coffee still sitting—untouched—on her desk from hours ago.
She gaped at him as his phone buzzed again and he turned away with a sharp movement. Phoebe stared after him, startled by his vehemence. She hadn’t intended to be rude, but yes, she’d been cold for days. Even George had noticed the strained atmosphere. She’d had to be like that just to control herself—yet how pathetic that she couldn’t even handle him offering her a coffee.
While Edo had kept his distance, he was coping far better than her. Was that because it wasn’t as much of a nightmare for him? Was he over it already? She needed to grow some maturity. Accepting something from him might make amends. She wrote her details on a piece of paper and put it in front of him just before leaving for the day.
‘Here’s my address. I’ll be ready first thing.’ She avoided his eyes as she mumbled, ‘Thank you.’
* * *
Edoardo stared at the two-storey house with grim, unwanted fascination. The property was tidy but cramped. There was no front garden and he doubted there’d be more than a little courtyard that probably never saw the sun out the back. The place seemed too grey for the sensual woman who’d splashed in the water that day back home.
He glanced at his watch and watched the door. He had the suspicion that George had contrived this unfortunate situation that meant he would be travelling alone with Phoebe. It was obvious that things were cool between them and maybe George thought they’d hash out a better working relationship on this trip. Hell, the old man had confided that Phoebe wasn’t smiling as much as she usually did, and that he was concerned she was stressed about the restructure. There was no way Phoebe would havesaidanything to George, but something about her brought out the old man’s protective instincts. Whereas it was Edo’s predatory instincts that she fully engaged.
She was extremely good at her job. Once past that water moment in that meeting, she’d been focused, detail-oriented, ruthlessly proper. No smile. No banter. It was business and only business, and rightly so. He could see why George raved about her. It wasn’t her fault thathecouldn’t stop thinking about her in every inappropriate way imaginable and at all times. But he had to suck up his impulses, especially when she was clearly—determinedly—keeping her distance. She couldn’t even bring herself to drink the coffee he’d bought for her. He’d almost lost it. Almost tossed every ounce of control away to hold her, kiss her, make her admit she felt it too.
He needed Felipe back. Badly. Because he couldn’t go on like this much longer. He would lose control.
The front door opened and he watched her walk towards the car. She was wearing another grey-suit-white-blouse combination, and her face was drawn and pale, as if she hadn’t slept well. He knew that feeling. He missed the long navy sundress that deepened the colour of her jewel-like eyes. He missed the fire and challenge she’d sent his way that day. Her spirit had been leeched from her. Because of him.
‘You should have messaged that you were here,’ she said as she got into the back seat beside him.
‘I was early.’ He’d been nosy. He kept the partition between his driver and them down, so they weren’t ‘alone’, but he was increasingly irritated by the way she never looked him in the eyes. Even now she had her head bent, reading from her tablet, informing him of updates he’d already skimmed, with impeccable politeness and efficiency. He wanted to throw the damned thing out the window. He didn’t. He said nothing. Didn’t move. It was sheer relief to arrive at the airport.
‘You don’t have a private jet?’ she murmured as they followed the crowds into the commercial terminal.
He absolutely did, but there was no way he’d be using it today. He would not be locked in a cabin alone with Phoebe for three hours. Look at what had happened the last time they’d had time alone together.
‘This is better for the planet,’ he said brusquely.
To the astonishment of his assistants in Italy, he’d spent half the evening requesting all the travel plans be amended, but as they boarded the plane he realised he’d made a massive mistake. The problem with flying commercial—even first class—was that the seats were too close together, and this wasn’t a huge aircraft. Plus, it was full—so he couldn’t take himself off to the other end of the plane. Couldn’t lock himself in the facilities either. He was going to be stuck right next to her. For hours.
The stewardess offered snacks and he snatched up the distraction, needing something salty to match his mood. Especially when he watched Phoebe pick out a plump green olive from the miniature antipasto selection and pop it into her mouth.
‘What?’ She shot him a questioning look as he glared at her.
‘I didn’t think you liked olives,’ he gritted.
She paused, the next olive halfway to her lips. ‘I changed my mind.’
When?Why?Because she’d not wanted his olives and he was absurdly put out by the fact. But worse was the torture of watching her nibble on them now. He was jealous of anolive. It was ludicrous. But he ached to take her hand and lick the brine from her fingers and he totally would—if he wasn’t her boss.
Now he wanted to rage around the aeroplane like a toddler throwing a tantrum, because he couldn’t sit still this long. He gripped the arm rest as they took off.
‘Are you a nervous flier?’ she asked awkwardly.
‘I’m fine,’ he snapped.
To his ever-mounting outrage she then curled away from him. A moment later she’d promptly fallen asleep. Sure, it had been an early flight butreally? How could she possibly fall asleep so quickly and easily? She clearly wasn’t troubled by desire, not bothered by their physical closeness…whereas he was increasingly unable to function for thinking about her. He’d thought she’d been distracted too—hell, she’d been avoiding him so much he’d thought it obvious. But now he was jealous as hell. And concerned. Her neck looked uncomfortable in the contorted way she was hunched. He wanted to pull her close so he could cushion her head and she could rest more comfortably. So he could feel her warm weight on him. He didn’t of course. Touching her would be inappropriate. He’d maintain his distance—he’d been doing it a whole week already, hadn’t he? Even if it was killing him. So then he was reduced to watching her sleep. Like an obsessive. But why was she so tired? Hadn’t she slept well last night?
He’dpaced for hours. Taken a cold shower well past the wrong side of midnight to douse his head and drown the memories that tormented him more and more. It hadn’t worked.
He gritted his teeth for the entire flight. She didn’t rouse when the imminent landing announcement was made over the plane’s intercom system. Edo rolled his shoulders but couldn’t ease his tension. He ought to wake her and there was only one way he wanted to do that—if he wasn’t her boss. But he was her boss. So he’d behave accordingly.
‘Phoebe…’ he murmured and leaned nearer. ‘Phoebe.’
She blinked, slightly dazed. Her face was so close to his and lightly flushed, and her blue eyes were luminous and warm and he was lost in them again instantly. She was just luscious and he needed a white flag. He’d give anything to kiss her right now. He sank lower, nearer.
