‘Small steps.’ Raffaele waved a hand although his eyes remained firmly glued to her face. ‘Early stages.’
‘I could set up whatever meetings you want,’ Erin suggested.
‘Already had a more lengthy chat with Archer yesterday. He’s definitely on board. Of course, the money may not be of a make-or-break figure but that doesn’t mean that I’m going to go into something like this without any due diligence whatsoever.’
‘No…’
‘Which brings me to the interesting part of this deal.’
‘Yes?’
‘I think step one will be seeing what I’m letting myself in for and the best place to start will be with the hotel that needs the most work.’
He switched attention to his computer and after a couple of seconds he swivelled the screen so that it was facing Erin. She leaned towards it and focused on the online brochure in front of her.
She scrolled past a picture of a tired hotel in a spectacular setting, amid lush rainforests. She flicked through to images of faded plantation-style elegance and then speed-read some of the copy, all touristy bumph.
‘So here’s where I tell you to make sure your passport’s up to date.’
Erin looked at him blankly as her brain registered the question.
‘Sorry?’
‘Because—’ he sat back and spread his arms wide in an all-encompassing gesture ‘—the sooner we go and see what the deal is with hotel number one, the sooner I can start putting things in place. I’ve never been involved in the leisure industry. It should prove to be an interesting gamble.’
‘We?’
‘You’ll be coming with me,’ Raffaele said comfortably.
Erin’s eyes widened with sudden alarm and her heart picked up pace. ‘That’s not going to be possible, I’m afraid.’
She’d gone on a couple of business trips with him in the past. Short, intense breaks in Paris, Lisbon and Milan, where they had worked solidly alongside the usual consortium of lawyers and accountants. She’d never thought twice about accompanying him but that was before…
Before things had changed between them…
Those subtle changes had shifted the dynamics. It felt ridiculous that telling her boss a tiny bit about herself had altered their relationship so much, but it had. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why, because nothing she had said had been very important and yet…
‘Why not?’ Raffaele asked bluntly. ‘Is it because of your father? I know you’ve been going down to help out for the past few weekends but if your presence is going to be missed so much, then I’m happy to get someone in to do whatever needs to be done outside…harvest whatever needs harvesting. What needs harvesting anyway? You never specified.’
‘No!’ Erin was even more appalled at the thought of further inroads being made into her private life. ‘I mean—’
‘So if it’s not concern for your father, then why the hesitation? Do you have any inconvenient pets that might need sitting? That can always be arranged. Kennels exist, to the best of my knowledge. You don’t have a dog, do you? Or a cat? Why don’t I know this about you? Seems a small detail. Birds? Tropical fish?’
‘Raffaele, no pets! No dogs, cats, fish or birds!’
‘So where’s the problem?’ He let the silence settle between them for a few seconds. ‘We’ll be gone for a week and you’ll be richly compensated for the inconvenience, just as you always have been on the few trips abroad you’ve done with me. So, Erin, all you have to do is sort out the flights and book us a couple of rooms at the hotel. Honestly? I have no idea why you’re so alarmed.’ He tilted his head to one side and stared at her. ‘It won’t be any different than any other business trip except this time, we’re going somewhere hot.’
Chapter Three
EIGHT DAYS LATER, Erin found herself staring, with trepidation, at the suitcase sitting by the front door of her little rented two-up, two-down terraced house on the outskirts of London.
Fortunately, considering the fact that she would shortly be flying to the Caribbean with him, the discomfort she had briefly felt in Raffaele’s presence ever since the cocktail party had faded as they once more settled into the usual routine of work, work, work.
No more curious questions about her private life. No more provocative remarks that made her feel hot and bothered and on edge.
Raffaele had returned to the grindstone and indeed, she hadn’t seen him at all for the past four days. He’d disappeared to New York on business.
Yesterday, he had emailed her to tell her that he would send his driver to collect her and take her to the airport. Normally, she managed all his travel arrangements but he knew her well. She suspected that he’d worked out that presenting her with a fait accompli would do away with her predictable protests that she would be more than happy to arrange her own transport, which was what she’d done on every other occasion when they’d travelled anywhere together on business. Fine when it was a short hop at a civilised time during the day. Less fine for a transatlantic long-haul trip at an ungodly hour in the morning.
