‘Whatever you want.’
There was a moment of hesitation, almost a misstep in their otherwise synchronous dance.
‘What about… Pumpkin?’
Dio. With that one word she could destroy his reputation overnight. Yet the question carried a smile. He could hear it in the light, playful tone of her voice. Leo wished he’d seen it on her face, since her smiles were rare and fragile things more often granted to others, such as juniors in the office who needed encouragement. Most of the time she treated him with bland professionalism.
He chuckled and she pulled back from him grinning. Her eyes twinkled under the chandeliers adorning the room. Her look of mirth burst like a firework in his chest.
He leaned forwards again. His lips now barely touched her ear. The tease of them achingly close, the desire to connect and hear her sigh in pleasure, sang through him. This was not how things were supposed to be, his reactions unfamiliar after two years of them working together in a way that was entirely businesslike.
‘Let’s stick withLeo. Though I can teach you words of love in Italian should you so wish,cara.’
A tremor ran through her, like a fault line suddenly cracking. What was he thinking? Simone was a woman who’d been clear about what she’d wanted from him and what she didn’t. It had aligned with his viewsperfectly.
He’d rejected any idea of marrying, until his reported playboy past became an impediment to the Tessitore family, whose heritage textile company had been family owned for hundreds of years. In all the wargaming over a possible buyout, it was the only sticking point he and his marketing department could see to him purchasing it. The Tessitores’ increasingly concerned comments about his stability and Circolo’s plans for succession. In truth, he had none. No desire for marriage or family, unlike hisfatherwhose own family seemed to be a small and perfect Italian success story. Yet what nobody knew was that the immensely successful Silvestri company had been started on the back of his mother’s designs. Stolen when his father had left his mother and Leo behind.
‘Leo, then,’ she whispered, the brush of her breath caressing his cheek.
‘Perfetto.’
He pulled back and looked down on her again. She’d picked up some Italian in their time together and this was another word she clearly understood, as a whisper of pink flushed her high cheekbones. He couldn’t explain why witnessing her awareness of him appealed, because it shouldn’t have. Their relationship wasn’t one built on romance. Both had agreed on that.
Passion, however, was another matter entirely.Could still waters run deep?
What would it be like to dive in and find out?
‘Nothing’s ever perfect,Leo. Not even you.’
It was a salutary reminder of her opinion of him. So many executive assistants he’d employed had been…unsettled by him in some way. Female, male, younger, older. It made no difference. Except her. After her three-month probation had ended with a permanent contract, she’d stalked into his office with a spoken demand.
Stop dazzling the staff, Mr Zanetti.
It was rather like being attacked by a tiny kitten.
He enjoyed her claws.
Althoughshenever appeared dazzled or affected by him at all. She seemed wholly unfazed. But as he’d told her, it was hard not to dazzle when you regularly hit the top ten world’s best-looking men lists. It wasn’t that he was vain; rather, Leo was pragmatic about the realities of his situation, as he’d told her.
It comes with the territory, Ms Taylor.
After that, he’d smiled and she’d turned on her practical heels and stalked right out again.
The mood had been set between them on that day and it hadn’t changed much since.
‘You’re poor for my ego, Simone.’
Her face might have seemed impassive, but he glimpsed a silvery spark in her eyes. He didn’t know why he thought so, but he almostheardher wanting to roll them.
‘Stop. What I say has no impact on your rudely healthy ego. None. At. All.’
Funny that was exactly the same as he’d thought of her. His words were like rain from a roof, water off a duck’s back.
‘Does anything I say have an impact on yours?’
She cocked her head. ‘You think I have an ego?’
He didn’t doubt it, given how they’d become engaged. As his executive assistant, Simone had been fully aware of his efforts to find a wife, the reasons for his sudden quest for matrimony. She’d located a world-renowned matchmaker and worked with his lawyer to ensure his wishes were documented in an appropriate pre-nuptial agreement, in anticipation of a marriage. Yet he’d been overcome by frustration at the process, how the women he’d been matched with never seemed quite right. They’d been looking for love, or at least for somethingmore. They weren’t interested in his work, when his work was hislifeand what drove him.
