Her Italian Boss’s Agenda

CHAPTER FOUR

IT TOOK him a while to stop choking with laughter and sit shaking his head as he regarded her in delight.

‘You should be ashamed of yourself,’ she said sternly.

‘So should you,’ he riposted at once. ‘Now tell me, was Cedric’s information worth the price?’

‘No, I’m afraid Cedric’s knowledge is limited. He couldn’t even say what Signor Rinucci looked like, although he’s met him. “Tallish”, is the best he could do.’

‘Yes, I don’t think noticing details is poor Cedric’s strong suit.’

‘But you’ll know. Is he good-looking? What sort of things does he enjoy? Come on. Tell.’

‘Are you planning to seduce him?’ he asked, avoiding her eyes.

‘Certainly not. I’ll be far more subtle than that. Seduction merely complicates things. Besides, when you say seduction, what exactly do you mean?’

‘I’m disappointed in you, Olympia. I thought you were a strong woman, not one who backed away from facts. You know exactly what seduction means. The whole thing. Admit it. You haven’t thought this through.’

‘Not thought it through? If you knew just how many hours, waking and sleeping, I’ve spent working out this-’

‘But you’ve never gone as far as the logical conclusion.’

‘Look, there’s seduction and there’s seduction-’

‘No, there isn’t. There’s only seduction, and you’d better know what you mean by it before you set out after this man. He’ll want far more than a dinosaur video. Just how far are you prepared to go?’

‘Not that far. What do you take me for?’

‘A woman prepared to put her ambition before everything else. Before love, before happiness, before being a person.’

‘That depends on what you mean by being a person. To me it means being a success. I want to impress him with my knowledge of business, my ability to speak his language, my willingness to commit myself to the job one hundred per cent.’

‘And you’re not going to use your womanly wiles at all? Is that it?’

She shrugged lightly. ‘I may not be the kind of woman he likes.’

‘Oh, he likes them all,’ Primo said, throwing caution to the winds. ‘He’s dangerous.’

‘Dangerous, how?’ she asked eagerly.

He racked his brain, searching for ways to describe his ‘other’ self. He was beginning to find this exhilarating.

‘He’s a womaniser,’ he said recklessly, ‘a man without discrimination. If you’ve got any sense, you won’t tangle with him.’

‘Oh, but I love a challenge.’

‘But he won’t be a challenge. It’s too easy to attract him on that level, but what happens afterwards?’

‘Then I’ll move on to Plan B.’

‘You’ve got it all worked out,’ he observed wryly.

‘You have to work things out to get what you want.’

‘And Primo Rinucci is what you want?’

‘Not him personally. What I want is his power and influence.’

‘And his money?’

‘Not at all,’ she said, shocked. ‘Just his power. I can make my own money.’

‘I just can’t work you out.’

‘Excellent. Then I’m on the right track. He mustn’t be able to work me out either.’

‘Can we forget Rinucci?’ he said, a tad edgily. ‘There are some holes in your reasoning that you’ll have to consider later, but I’d prefer not to spend this evening on the subject.’

‘What?’ she said at once. ‘What holes?’

He sighed and gave in. ‘Well, for a start, there’s the troop of lovers that you seem to keep dancing after you. Won’t they get in the way rather?’

‘What troop of lovers? I don’t have any lovers. At least-’ She seemed to consider. ‘No,’ she said at last. ‘Not at the moment.’

‘Admirers then. All those cards this morning, two without a message and one that said, “I’ll never forget”. Who is he, and what won’t he forget?’

‘Ah, that was from Brendan,’ she said with a smile. ‘We had a flirtation a few years back and I get a card every year.’

‘A flirtation, was it?’ he couldn’t resist saying.

‘Brendan’s a great one for pretty gestures at a safe distance. He always makes sure he’s on the other side of the world in February. This came from Australia.’

‘And the other two? And the red roses?’

Suddenly she burst out laughing, not a soft teasing sound but a chuckle of genuine mirth.

‘You won’t believe me when I tell you.’

‘Try me.’

‘They were from my parents.’

‘“To the one and only, the girl who transformed the world”,’ he quoted.

‘They’d been married twenty years before I came along, and they’d given up hope. As long as I can remember they’ve sent me Valentine cards and flowers with messages about how I changed the world for them. They’re such darlings.’

‘Well, I’ll be-is that for real?’

‘Yes, I swear it’s the truth. Didn’t you see their picture on the bookcase?’

‘Yes, but I thought they must be your grandparents.’

‘That’s because they’re both nearly seventy.’

‘But why didn’t you tell me this morning?’

‘Because I was enjoying myself. I don’t mind being thought of as a woman with a host of admirers.’

‘Miss Lincoln, you have the soul of a tease.’

‘Sure I have. It’s very useful. My husband got quite uptight about those cards at first. Right to the end I’m not sure he really believed my parents sent them.’

‘The end? You’re a widow?’

‘Oh, no, he’s still alive. He came close to meeting a sudden end a few times but I resisted that temptation.’

‘Your better self asserted itself.’

‘No, I don’t have a better self,’ she said cheerfully. ‘He just wasn’t worth the hassle. With my luck, I’d never have got away with it, so I let him live.’

She finished with a shrug, as though the whole thing was just too trivial for words, but he felt as though he’d had a glimpse through a keyhole. It was narrow, but the details he could see suggested a whole vista, waiting to be revealed.

The waiter appeared to clear away their plates.

‘I gather he didn’t deserve to live,’ Primo said casually.

‘That’s what I thought, but I’m probably doing him an injustice. He wasn’t really the monster I made him into. I told myself that love conquered all, and then blamed him when that turned out to be nonsense. And we married too young. I was eighteen, he was twenty-one. I suppose we changed into different people-or discovered the people we really were all the time.’

‘I don’t think this is who you really were all the time,’ he said with sudden urgency. ‘This is what he did to you.’

‘He taught me a lot of things, including the value of total and utter selfishness. Boy, is that ever the way to get ahead! Tunnel vision. Wear blinkers and look straight down the line to what you want.’

He’d often said the same himself, but he couldn’t bear hearing his own ruthlessness from her.

‘Don’t,’ he said, reaching out swiftly and laying a finger over her lips. ‘Don’t talk like that.’

‘You’re right,’ she said, moving her lips against his finger before he drew it away. ‘It’s too revealing, isn’t it? I need a better act. How lucky that I have you to practise on.’

‘Yes, isn’t it?’ he said wryly.

‘I mean that I don’t have to pretend with you. We can afford honesty. Why, what is it?’ She’d seen his sudden unease.

‘Nothing,’ he said quickly. ‘But the waiter wants to serve the next course.’

The mention of honesty had reminded him that he was sailing under false colours. But at the same time he had an exhilarating feeling of having found a new kind of honesty. His heart was open to her, his defences down as never before. Was this what Hope had been trying to tell him all the time?

‘So your husband taught you all about selfishness?’ he said.

‘I guess I was a willing learner.’

It hurt him to hear her slander herself, but she seemed driven to do it, as though that way she could erect a defensive shield against the world.

‘Did you ever want children?’

She hesitated a long time before saying, ‘I wanted his children. I hadn’t thought of myself as the maternal type at first. It was going to be a career for me, although I thought I’d probably want children later. Then I’d find a way to juggle them both.’

‘So the career wasn’t going to be everything to you?’ he asked cautiously. ‘Not like now.’

‘No, not like now. But then I met David and it overturned all my ideas. I wanted to be his wife and have his babies so much that it hurt.

‘Somehow it was never the right time for him. He said we were too young-which I suppose we were, and there were “things to do first”. That’s how he put it. I just said yes to whatever he wanted. It seemed a fair bargain as long as he loved me.’

She said the words with no deliberate attempt at pathos, but with a kind of incredulous wonder that anyone could believe such stuff.

‘But he didn’t,’ Primo said gently.

She made no reply. She was barely conscious of him. Something had drawn her back into the person she used to be, naïve, giving and totally, blindly in love. The impression was so strong that she could almost feel David there again-confident, charming, with the ability to take her to the top of the world-then dash her down.

Never again.

‘No, he didn’t,’ she said. ‘I was useful to him, but only for a while. He used to wear expensive clothes because he had to make a good impression at work. I made do with the cheapest I could find because who cared what I looked like?’

‘Didn’t he?’

‘You should have heard him on that subject. He was very good. “Darling, it doesn’t matter whether your dress is costly or the cheapest thing in the market. To me, you’re always beautiful.” What is it?’

She asked the question because he had covered his eyes in anguish.

‘I can’t bear this,’ he said. ‘It’s such a corny line. I thought it was dead and buried years ago.’

‘Well, it rose from the grave,’ she said tartly. ‘And, to save you asking, yes, I fell for it. Hook, line and sinker.’

‘I’ll bet he wasn’t wearing the cheapest thing on the market.’

‘You’re right. I bought him a shirt once-not expensive, but I thought it was nice. He sat me down, explained that he couldn’t be seen in it, and asked if I had the receipt. He returned it to the shop, got the money back, then added some money of his own to buy what he called “a decent one”. It was his way of letting me know what was good enough for him and what wasn’t.’

‘And you let him live?’ Primo demanded, scandalised.

‘I think I was kind of hypnotised by him. I wouldn’t let myself believe what I was discovering. And he looked fantastic in the new shirt. If a man’s incredibly handsome you somehow don’t think he can be a jerk.’

She lapsed into silence and sat brooding into her glass, trying to make a difficult decision. What came next was something she’d never been able to speak of before.

Yet here she was, on the verge of telling her most painful secret to a man she’d known only a day. But that day might have been a year, she seemed to know him so well. All her instincts reassured her that he was a friend and she could trust him with anything.

‘Tell me,’ he said gently. ‘What happened then?’

She gave a faint smile.

‘He had to work on a marketing project. By that time I had a job in the same firm. I was down at the bottom of the ladder but I understood the business and I helped him with the project. I’d done that before and, if I say it myself, the best ideas in that project were mine.

‘In fact the layout and presentation were mine too. He used to say that my talent was knowing how to say things. I was flattered, until it dawned on me that what he really meant was that he was the one with talent, and all I could do was the superficial stuff.’

‘But firms will pay big money for someone who can do “the superficial stuff”. It’s what marketing and presentation is about, and I’m surprised you don’t know that.’

She gave him a shy smile that went to his heart.

‘Well, I do know it now,’ she said. ‘But not then. I didn’t understand a lot of things then. As far as I knew, David was the great talent in the family.’

‘Because that’s what he kept telling you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Meanwhile he stole your ideas and used them to climb the ladder?’

‘He was promoted to be the boss’s deputy. That’s how he met the boss’s daughter, who was also working there. One day I went up to the top floor to pay him a surprise visit. We’d had a row and I wanted to make up. Rosalie was there, leaning forward over his desk, with her head close to his.

‘She scowled and demanded to know who I was, looking down her nose at me. I told her I was David’s wife and she gasped. He hadn’t told her he was married. Nobody in the firm knew. Our surname was Smith, which is so common that nobody made the connection.

‘That night he came home late. I spent the time crying, like the wimp I was. When he got home we had a big fight. I said how dare he pretend I didn’t exist, and he looked me up and down and said, “Why would I want to tell anyone about you?”’

‘Bastardo!’

‘I had nothing to say. She was so beautiful and perfectly groomed, and I was so dowdy. Soon after that we split up. There was a divorce and he married Rosalie. Since then he’s gone right to the top.’

‘Of course,’ he said cynically. ‘The boss’s son-in-law always goes to the top.’

She nodded. ‘His father-in-law is a rich man with a lot of power.’ She gave a curt laugh. ‘David has two children now. A friend of mine has seen them. She says they’re beautiful.’

‘And they should have been yours,’ he said gently.

She was suddenly unable to speak. But then she recovered and said, ‘No, of course not. That’s just being sentimental. When the divorce came through I did a lot more crying, so much that I reckon I’ve used up all my tears for the rest of my life. That’s what I promised myself, anyway. That was when I resumed my maiden name.

‘It’s silly to brood about the past. You can’t rewrite it. You can only make sure that the future is better. And that’s what I’m determined to do.’

Primo didn’t know what to say. She seemed to speak lightly but her manner was still charged with emotion. What unsettled him most was the way she’d revealed her pain with the sudden force of someone breaking boundaries for the first time. Now she seemed to be withdrawing back into herself, as if regretting the brief intimacy she’d permitted.

She confirmed it when she laughed and said, ‘And that’s the story of my life.’

‘No, not your life, just one bad experience. But don’t judge all men by your husband. Some of us have redeeming qualities.’

‘Of course. I like men. I enjoy their company. But I’m always waiting for that moment when the true face shows through.’

‘But suppose you saw the true face at the start,’ he suggested, fencing, hoping to draw her out further.

‘Does any man show his true face at the start?’ she fenced back. ‘Did you, for instance?’

‘Yes, let’s forget about that,’ he said hastily. ‘I prefer to talk some more about you.’

‘Why? Is the truth about you so very terrible?’

He was wildly tempted to say that the truth about himself was something she wouldn’t believe. But he recovered his sanity in time.

‘Tell me about the new Olympia, the one who knows that love is nonsense.’

‘At least she knows it’s something you have to be realistic about.’

‘I think you could lose a lot by being that sort of realist.’

‘But don’t you believe a person’s head should rule their heart, and they should avoid stupid risks?’

‘No, I don’t,’ he said, aghast. ‘You could hardly say anything worse about any man.’

‘Not at all. They’re admirable qualities.’

‘Yes, for a dummy in a shop window.’

‘Have I offended you?’

‘Yes,’ he growled.

‘But why? Most men like to be admired for their brains and common sense.’

He recovered his good humour.

‘You’ve observed that, have you? Is it on your list of effective techniques for use against Rinucci? Item one, sub-section A. Make breathless comments about size of brain and staggering use thereof. Note: Try to sound convincing, however difficult. Sub-section B. Suggest that-’

‘Stop it,’ she said, laughing. ‘Anyway, I don’t know if it would work with him. Is he intelligent enough to make admiration of his brains convincing?’

‘It doesn’t matter. If he isn’t, he’ll never know the difference.’

‘That’s true,’ she said, much struck.

‘Personally I’ve always considered him rather a stupid man.’

‘Stupid in what way?’ she wanted to know.

‘In every way.’

‘Stupid in every way,’ she repeated. ‘That’s a start.’

Primo grinned suddenly and hailed a passing waiter.

‘Would you bring the lady a notebook and pencil, please?’ he asked. ‘She has urgent notes to make.’ Turning back to Olympia, he said, ‘Of course, if you were really applying yourself to the job, you’d have brought them with you.’

‘I wasn’t exactly prepared for the conversation to be so promising.’

‘Always be prepared. You never know where any conversation might lead-what are you writing?’

‘Always-be-prepared-’ she said, her eyes fixed on the notebook which the waiter had just placed before her. Then she raised them and fixed them admiringly on his face. ‘How clever you are! I’d never have thought of a difficult concept like that for myself.’

‘Behave yourself,’ he said in a voice that shook with laughter.

‘But I was admiring your brilliant advice.’

‘You were using me for target practice.’

‘Well, some targets are more fun to practise on than others.’

The significant chuckle in her voice was almost his undoing. He longed to ask her to expand on the subject, but he felt she’d had it all her own way long enough.

‘Enough,’ he said severely. ‘If you’re going to do this, do it properly. Don’t be obvious. Even a fool like Rinucci could see through that.’

‘Really? Never mind, you can tell me what else to say. How old is he?’

‘About my age.’

‘That’s young to be in his position.’

‘He relies a lot on family influence,’ Primo said, ruthlessly sacrificing his own reputation.

‘It’s going to take a lot of work filling this notebook. I’ll need a section for his interests, clothes-’

‘He’s a fancy dresser. More money than sense. Ah, but I forgot. You’re not interested in his money.’

‘That’s right. I just want to run him to earth, rope and brand him-’

‘And generally get him in a state of total subjection.’

‘You got it. And then-’

‘Olympia, could we possibly drop the subject of Primo Rinucci?’ he asked plaintively. ‘He really isn’t a very interesting man.’

‘I’m sorry. Of course he isn’t interesting to you.’

The waiter, proffering the sweet menu, saved him from having to answer, and after that he managed to divert her on to another subject.

At last she said, ‘Maybe we should go. I should go to work tomorrow, to impress the boss.’

‘But it is Sunday and he isn’t here.’

‘I meant you.’

‘Yes, right-I’m getting confused. Let’s go.’

On the way home they talked in a relaxed, disjointed way, then made the last part of the journey in silence. When he drew up and looked over to her he saw that she was asleep.

Her breathing was so soft that he could hardly hear it. She slept like a contented child, her face softened, all the tension smoothed out. There was even a faint smile on her lips, as though she’d found a rare moment of contentment.

He moved closer, charmed by the way her long black lashes lay against her cheek. If this had been any other woman, on any other night, he would have leaned down and laid his mouth against hers, teasing gently until she awoke and her lips parted under his. Then he would have taken her into his arms, letting her head rest against his shoulder and her hair spread out, flowing over his arm.

They would have held each other for a long moment before he finally murmured a question and she whispered her assent. Then, perhaps, they would have made their way together up to her apartment and closed the door behind them.

So many evenings had ended that way, in tenderness, pleasure and passion. But not with her.

With this woman passion was forbidden. Only tenderness was allowed, and so he watched her silently for several minutes, holding her hand but making no other move, until she opened her eyes and he said, in a shaking voice, ‘I think you should go upstairs now. You won’t mind if I don’t escort you to your door, will you?’

He watched her walk into the building and kept his eyes on the windows he knew were hers until he saw the lights go on. Then he drove away quickly while he was still safe.