‘Well, it’s handy, especially when there’s a kitchen full of professionals way more experienced than I am.’ She had realised that when she’d recognised the names and a quick internet trawl on her phone had confirmed her suspicions; the level of experience in the Romano kitchen was staggering.
‘They are being asked to perform at a level way below their pay grade, so it has to be frustrating. It explains the atmosphere last night when we walked in, and it wasn’t just me being foisted on them.’
‘Are chefs meant to be so self-deprecating? I thought arrogance came with the job.’
Her eyes widened a second before her lips began to twitch and she choked back a laugh. So ironic, considering the man who’d just said that oozed arrogance from every perfect pore!
‘Share the joke?’
She opened her eyes behind the smoky glass, this time not trying to stifle her laughter. ‘Oh, I doubt you’d get it if I did. I’m just impressed thatself-deprecatingis in your vocabulary. And, for the record, I’m not underselling myself. I’m good at what I do, but—’
‘But nothing,’ he interrupted, recovering from the novelty shock of being mocked. ‘The reason those highly qualified people are working under you is because they accepted a lot of money to do so—I only employ the best of the best.’
His comment had confirmed what Amy had suspected. ‘Too many leaders, too many egos. But none big enough to compete with yours, of course.’ She paused, seeing they had reached a gallery. The hallway continued on to the right, almost to infinity, it seemed, and they stood directly at the head of a staircase.
Curving and graceful, it led down to a massive space. On a raised dais at one end, a grand piano took pride of place, and the marble floor had a pearlescent quality warmed by the ancient vibrant frescoes on the walls.
Amy blinked, the breath catching in her throat as she imagined what the room would look like when the chandeliers suspended from the coffered ceiling high above were lit, illuminating the intricately carved supporting pillars and bas-relief sculptures.
‘The ballroom.’
She shot a self-conscious sideways look at his dark profile and closed her mouth with an audible snap. Though, in her defence, if ever a space deserved openmouthed admiration this was it. Then, unable to resist the impulse, she ran her hand across the smooth inlaid wood of the curving bannister, enjoying the tactile sensation.
‘What’s the scent?’ Finally, something that wasn’t making her feel nauseous.
‘Cedarwood.’
‘I can imagine people making quite an entrance down this staircase,’ she said, tilting her head back to look at the frescoes above and immediately regretting it when a sharp pain stabbed through her temple.
‘It’s only used occasionally these days. The gala will be the first time this year.’
‘When is the gala?’
‘About six weeks away.’
‘And that’s why I’m here.’ She cocked her head in challenge. ‘Isn’t it?’
He cut across her. ‘For the record, I like to keep a degree of separation between work and pleasure.’
While he spoke he had taken a step towards her, but in every other way he felt further away.
Humiliation swelled like a balloon inside her, but she didn’t let it explode. ‘That works for me.’
‘I think you’ll enjoy it.’
‘Is this work we’re talking about now?’
‘I wouldn’t have said it if we were not talking work, but unless you’re a very good actress I know you enjoyed last night.’
She longed to throw his damned arrogance back in his beautiful smug face but he was right—she really wasn’t that good an actress.
‘The takeover we are celebrating was last month, but we felt it would be good to have a joint celebration for my grandfather’s birthday also.’
‘He’ll be there too?’ she blurted.
‘Save your horror until after you have met him.’
‘It’s not horror, it’s a genuine concern. I’m meant to be in charge of this thing, so a little more information would be useful.’
