‘For the past few months all the staff have been making their offices into little grottos,’ Flora informed him weakly. ‘It’s a company tradition, apparently.’
‘Peccato,’ he snapped. ‘Too bad. Let them create theirlittle grottosat home. It’s a fire risk.’
Vito’s contempt for the Christmas holidays equalled his powerful work ethic which definitely wasn’t what Flora was used to—though fortunately she had no trouble matching it. She’d never been a stranger to hard work. In fact, it was quite nice to feel that she’d done something worthwhile for once. Even working later than usual in the evenings became something of a pleasure, especially when she thought about all the overtime pay she was stacking up.
But it was more than that. Deep down, she rather enjoyed the mercurial company of the Italian tycoon—he was certainly a lot more interesting than Julian. And another thing—once word spread through the company that Vito was going to be around until Christmas, it had impacted onto her. His new secretary.
Suddenly, she was popular.
Flora was used to being invisible. The frumpy ex-librarian who nobody really noticed. But not anymore. Colleagues (always women) were suddenly clamouring to buy her coffee, or invite her out for drinks. Even when she refused, politely stating she would be eating her usual sandwich at her desk until after the big boss had returned to Italy, and that she didn’t tend to socialise after work—that didn’t seem to deter them. She was waylaid by the water cooler and confronted in the corridors, and the question they asked was always the same.
‘So. What’s helike?’
She would manufacture a close approximation of a smile before trotting out her stock answer (which she’d had to rehearse) knowing it would be extremely unprofessional to convey what shereallyfelt about her boss. That Vito Monticello was utterly distracting—like a dark star which had fallen from the heavens and taken up temporary residence in the Chairman’s office. They already knew that!
Or that it was difficult not to just sit there gazing at him, while forbidden fantasies strayed into her head.
Neither did she pass on that he sometimes had a very short fuse and occasionally lost his rag when women tried to ring him at the office, which they often did. These unknown females were always put through to her and Flora had strict instructions to field them, though some of the callers were very insistent. Especially that stunning model who had recently broken off her engagement to a royal prince and explained that Vito woulddefinitelywant to speak to her. But, mystifyingly, he didn’t. She promised the woman that she would deliver a message but she was only a quarter of the way through reciting it when her boss’s impatient wave of his hand cut short her words.
‘Why the hell can’t they take a hint?’ he had demanded. ‘Why do they make such doormats of themselves? If I wanted them to ring me, I would have given them my private cell phone number!’
There was, of course, no answer to that.
‘He’s very efficient,’ Flora would say smoothly, meeting the question in yet another eager pair of eyes. ‘He works from early in the morning until late in the evening.’
‘He’s definitely single. Right?’
Flora shrugged. ‘As far as I know.’
‘And he’s staying at the Granchester?’
‘Yes.’ It wasn’t breaking any kind of confidentiality code to confirm this. The fact that he was occupying the finest suite in London’s premier hotel was common tabloid fodder. Someone in the post room had pointed the article out to her and suggested that even this degree of luxury might be considered slumming it for a man who was famed for having the most beautiful apartment in Milan. It had been the first and only time Flora had been tempted to access the internet and dig out what information she could about her boss.
But she had resisted. His private life was none of her business. What if she gave herself away by letting on she knew where he lived and what he liked to do in his spare time—wouldn’t he rightly think she’d beensnooping? And since such behaviour would be abhorrent to both of them, she put the thought right out of her mind and acted with nothing but cool professionalism whenever he was around. It was why she prided herself on only speaking to him when it was necessary, though at times he seemed rather bemused by her lack of engagement.
Several times she caught him watching her and once, when she’d managed to track down a file—which everyone else thought Julian might have deleted—he grudgingly bit out some uncharacteristic praise. But she simply nodded politely and rarely made small talk, even when early on she had discovered his preferred mix of coffee beans and had managed to procure a supply from a small shop in Soho.
‘Mmm,’ he’d remarked, his eyes narrowing with surprise. ‘Nice.’
‘I’m glad you approve, Vito,’ she’d answered, ignoring the mocking question in his aquamarine gaze. Because didn’t it give her a little rush of pleasure when she didn’t conform to what he obviously expected of her? When she didn’t eagerly trot out some trite explanation about contacting his Milanese headquarters to enquire about his preferred blend. It wasn’t as if she was seeking praise for simply doing her job properly. Why bother him with unnecessary detail, when he had enough to do?
One dark December morning, she finished brushing out her wet hair and rode the elevator to the top of the company headquarters, to find Vito already sitting at his desk. She should have been prepared but she wasn’t and as he glanced up, the unexpected reinforcement of all that raw, masculine presence at this time of the day was enough to send her heart into a dramatic thunder.
‘You’re early!’ she accused.
His eyes glittered as he acknowledged her atypical outburst. ‘But you’re not.’
‘No.’ She didn’t point out that it wasn’t even eight o’clock and all the other offices were deserted. Perhaps he would like her to acquire a portable bed so she could camp down for the night and work around the clock! Still, only two days before she accompanied him to Scotland, after which Vito Monticello would be jetting off in his private jet and she doubted their paths would ever cross again. And although she told herself that was a good thing, she couldn’t deny the inexplicable pang in her heart when she stopped to think about it.
She walked towards her office, acutely aware of his blue gaze following her until, just as she reached the door and the sanctity of her own little enclave, his richly accented voice stalled her.
‘Flora?’
He didn’t say her name very often but when he did.
When he did…
Flora sucked in an unsteady breath.
