Page 48 of Seasons of Sin

“I don’t think it is way below my skillset,” she demurred frankly. “And this is not the time to be talking about it. You need to rest your voice.”

“See? You’re even bossing me around,” Melania pointed out teasingly. “We will talk about this in a few days. I want you on board permanently. I have a knack for knowing which people are right for my business. And I know I need you. Think about it.”

Saphire bit down on her lip. “I will.”

“I have my personal assistant lined up to take my place in the auction tonight. Have you met Kate?”

Saphire nodded, frowning. She had a vague recollection of a softly spoken blonde with pale skin and enormous blue eyes. “She seems sort of quiet …”

“Sheissort of quiet,” Melania agreed. “Probably why she agreed to this. Though I’ll admit I didn’t give her much of a chance to say no. Anyway, get her a champagne when she arrives. Poor thing’s a bag of nerves.”

“Right.”

“You know what you’re doing,” Melania promised and Saphire nodded.

She did. Her fear was born from years of not expecting enough of herself. But those days were past.

Jordan was in her past.

Thaddeus was in her past.

And a whole life spanned ahead of her. She pushed away the thought that it would be a life without Thaddeus. Eventually she would adapt to that.

As well-dressed Europeans began to arrive at the expensive, impossible-to-get-tickets-to charity dinner, Saphire found pleasure whispering into the gaps of her heart.

Her boss thought she could do this. And she could! For the first time in her life she had a job and someone actually thought she was good at it.

The food was excellent. Saphire stood in the kitchen, as Mel would have, and checked each table’s meals as they went out. It was not acceptable for a single thing to be out of place; hair in the truffled scallops would have been dire! At one point Saphire averted near-disaster when she spotted a small crack in a plate intended for a Scandinavian princess, but a quick word with the chef ensured the error was swiftly corrected.

Nerves were bouncing through her, but they were good nerves. For almost an hour she had put Thaddeus out of her mind completely. The sun was setting over Rome, the band had begun to play their latest hit, and Saphire was feeling like she had pulled off a true accomplishment.

She skirted the edge of the room, smiling noncommittally as she went.

Until her gaze clashed with a familiar pair of brown eyes. She was instantly startled out of her fog of self-congratulation. A small cry escaped her lips and she froze, her feet planted to the spot.

She watched as he walked towards her, and anxiety crept back into her being.

“Saphire.” His voice was kind, his smile genuine.

“Rocco,” she responded tightly.

They hadn’t spoken again after he’d outed her on the balcony.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, casting a pointed look at her clipboard.

“Working,” she murmured. Her eyes were already darting past him, scanning the room. How had it not occurred to her that Thaddeus might have come to this charity affair?

“He isn’t here,” Rocco seemed to read her mind.

Her cheeks glowed but she didn’t deny that she’d been looking for him.

“You work for the venue?”

“No, the charity,” she corrected distractedly. People were dancing, plates were being cleared. There was an hour before the auction was scheduled to start. Melania always did it that way. She liked people to have had a few wines before placing their bids; it certainly nudged the bids up.

“I see. Thad never mentioned …”

“He didn’t know,” she interrupted stiltedly.