‘What are you afraid of, Lily?’

Raffaele’s voice, rough suede, caressed her skin, drawing it to tingling life. Lily’s eyelids flickered, weighted by the desire rolling through her, inexorably growing, clogging every sense. All she knew was the scent and taste of Raffaele, the heat of his breath on her lips, the pulse of longing throbbing within.

‘I’m not afraid,’ she lied.

She was terrified. Thrilled. Exultant. Curious.

Lily felt her hand settle against the muscled plane of his chest. Beneath her palm beat a steady pulse that seemed leisurely compared with her own wildly careering heartbeat. He was real. Not the phantom lover of her dreams. He was one of the most beautiful men on the planet, and she—

She shifted back. ‘This is a mistake.’

He moved with her, his thigh brushing hers. Ripples coursed up her leg to the spot between her thighs where a different pulse beat—needy and quick.

‘No mistake. Admit it, Lily. This feels right.’

His lips touched hers again—once, twice—before settling on her mouth. For a moment he held utterly still. She absorbed the rich, warm scent of his skin, the delicious tang of him on her tongue, the long body hard up against hers and the gentleness of his hand at the back of her head, cradling, tender …

A mighty shudder ran through her—a sigh that made no sound in the whirling ecstasy of the moment. A sigh of surrender as Lily let herself go and for the first time in her life kissed a man.

Growing up near the beach, ANNIE WEST spent lots of time observing tall, burnished lifeguards—early research! Now she spends her days fantasising about gorgeous men and their love lives. Annie has been a reader all her life. She also loves travel, long walks, good company and great food. You can contact her at annie@annie-west.com or via PO Box 1041, Warners Bay, NSW 2282, Australia.

The Flaw in Raffaele’s Revenge

Annie West

www.millsandboon.co.uk

An enormous thank you to dear Abby Green, who heard my plot ideas then asked why I didn’t combine them. I loved our rare chance to talk stories!

And a huge thank you to Franca Poli for your support and patient assistance with your lovely language. Any errors are mine.

Contents

COVER

INTRODUCTION

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

TITLE PAGE

DEDICATION

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

EPILOGUE

EXTRACT

COPYRIGHT

PROLOGUE

RAFFAELE PETRI POCKETED his credit card and left the waterfront restaurant. Ignoring the stares, he nodded his thanks to the waiter. The service had been excellent, attentive but not fawning, the tip well-earned.

Raffaele hadn’t forgotten how it felt to depend on the goodwill of rich foreigners.

He paused, his eyes adjusting to the sunshine. The sea glittered as it slapped the whiter-than-white yachts. The salt tang was strong on the air and he breathed deep, relishing it after the overpowering perfume of the women who’d tried to catch his attention from the next table.

He sauntered past huge yachts and motor cruisers. The Marmaris waterfront was packed with ostentatious displays of wealth. Just the place to invest, if his research was right, which it always was. This trip to Turkey would be profitable and—

A bray of laughter froze his footsteps. The hoarse, distinctive sound ran up his spine like dancing skeletal fingers, pinching his skin.

Raffaele’s breath rushed in like the snap of a spinnaker in a stiff breeze. The laugh came again, yanking his attention to a towering multistorey cruiser. Sunlight polished the chestnut hair of the man leaning from the upper deck, shouting encouragement at two women on the promenade.

The ground beneath Raffaele’s feet seemed to heave and buckle, mirroring the tumble of his constricting gut. His hands rolled tight as he stared at the florid man waving a champagne glass at the women.

‘Come on up. The bubbly’s on ice.’

Raffaele knew that voice.

Even after twenty-one years he recognised it.

That smug tone, that hoarse laugh, had crept through his nightmares since he was twelve.

He’d given up hope of finding him. He’d never known the man’s name and the slimy villain had disappeared from Genoa faster than a rat leaving a scuttled ship. No one had listened to a skinny twelve-year-old who’d insisted the foreigner with hair the colour of castagne was to blame for Gabriella’s death.

Gabriella...

Fury ignited. The wrath of thwarted retribution, of loathing and grief.

The blast of emotion stunned him.

He’d spent his life perfecting the art of not feeling, not caring for anyone, not trusting, since Gabriella. But now... It took everything he had merely to stand still and take in the scene.

Keenly he catalogued everything, from the guy’s features, grown pudgy with age and self-indulgence, to the name of the cruiser and the fact his staff, neat in white shorts and shirts, spoke English as only natives could. One of them offered to help the women aboard.

Girls, Raffaele amended, not women. Both blonde, both in their teens, though one was made up to look ten years older. Raffa was an expert on make-up and on women.

The Englishman’s tastes hadn’t changed. He still liked them young and blonde.

Bile rose. Raffa’s heart thrashed with the need to climb aboard and deliver justice for Gabriella with his fists. There was no doubt this was the same man.

But Raffa was no longer an impulsive, grieving kid.

Now he had the power to do more than beat the man to a bloody pulp. That thought alone held him back. Even so, it was a battle to rein in his need for instant vengeance.

‘Ciao, bella.’ He strolled forward, curling his mouth in a half smile the camera, and millions of women the world over, loved. Not for a second did he lift his gaze to the middle-aged man above them.

‘Lucy—’ The taller one nudged her companion. ‘Quick. Turn around. He looks like... He couldn’t be...could he?’

Two pairs of eyes widened as he approached. Twin gasps of excitement. The one who’d spoken smiled wide while her companion looked dazed.

Raffa was used to dealing with besotted fans. But instead of a nod of acknowledgement before moving on, he increased the wattage of his smile in an invitation that had never once failed.

The taller girl stepped closer, pulling her friend along, the boat and its owner forgotten. They didn’t even blink as the man above them called agitated instructions for them to come aboard.

‘You look just like Raffaele Petri. I suppose people say that all the time.’ Her voice was breathless and young. Too young for the man on the boat. Or for Raffa. The difference was that with him she’d be safe.

‘That’s because I am Raffaele Petri.’

Twin gasps met the announcement and the smaller girl looked as if she might faint.

‘Are you all right?’

She nodded, goggle-eyed, while her friend dragged out her phone. ‘Do you mind?’

‘Of course not.’ The world was full of amateur photos of him. ‘I was going to get a coffee.’ He gestured to a street leading away from the waterfront. ‘Care to join me?’

The girls were so busy chattering as they walked that only Raffa heard the Englishman’s abusive yells. He’d been deprived of his afternoon’s amusement.

Soon he’d be deprived of everything that mattered to him.

The Englishman wouldn’t escape again. Justice would be sweet.

This time Raffa’s smile was genuine.

CHAPTER ONE

‘STOP PULLING MY LEG, PETE.’ Lily leaned back from the desk and shifted her grip on the phone. ‘It’s been a long day. You might be just waking up in New York but it’s bedtime in Australia.’

Looking towards the window, she saw the reflection of her office in the glass. Her house was too far from town for street lights and the stars wouldn’t show till she switched off her lamp. She rubbed her stiff neck. Completing this project within deadline and to her own exacting standards had been tough.

‘No joke.’ Pete’s usually laid-back voice with its Canadian accent sounded excited. ‘The boss wants you here and he never jokes about business.’

Lily straightened in her seat, her pulse thudding. ‘You’re serious?’

‘Absolutely. And what the boss wants, the boss makes a policy of getting. You know that.’

‘Except Raffaele Petri isn’t my boss.’ Even saying his name aloud seemed somehow ridiculous. What could she, ordinary Lily Nolan, living in a rundown farmhouse an hour south of Sydney, have in common with Raffaele Petri? ‘He doesn’t know I exist.’

Petri inhabited a stellar plane ordinary mortals only dreamed of or read about in gossip magazines, while she...

Lily dropped the hand she’d lifted to her cheek. She hated that old, nervous gesture.

‘Of course he knows. Why do you think you’ve had so much work from us? He was impressed with your report for the Tahiti deal and asked for you on every one since.’

Lily blinked. She’d never imagined Signor Petri himself reading her research reports. She’d assumed he had other things to do with his time, like indulging himself at the world’s most luxurious fleshpots.

‘That’s fantastic, Pete. I can’t tell you how pleased I am.’ Despite her recent success, the size of the loan she’d taken to buy this house and expand the business kept her awake at night. But after years feeling like an outsider she’d been driven by the need to establish her own place in the world, something she’d achieved and could be proud of. Even though it meant moving across the continent from her anxious family. She needed this to turn her life around.

Tight muscles eased. If Signor Petri had personally commented on her work—

‘Excellent. You’ll find the contract in your inbox. It will be great finally putting a face to the voice once you’re working here.’

‘Whoa. Wait a minute.’ Lily shot to her feet. ‘I meant I’m pleased to have what I do valued. That’s all.’ She drove herself to excel and knew her service was first class, but it was reassuring having it confirmed by her most influential customer, especially now she had this mortgage.

‘You don’t want to accept the boss’s offer to work here?’ Pete’s hushed tone made it sound as if she’d refused mankind’s only chance to find a cure for cancer.

‘That’s right.’ The thought of being in a city, surrounded by millions of people, being seen by strangers every day, made her flesh crawl as if she were breaking into hives. She even avoided driving into her small town when possible, opting to have her groceries delivered. Working in New York, constantly facing curious stares, would be a nightmare. It was one thing to be confident about your work and your worth, quite another to run the gauntlet of constant public interest.

‘You’re joking. Who wouldn’t want to work for Raffaele Petri?’

Lily threaded her fingers through her long hair, pushing it from her face. ‘I already work for him, off and on.’ Her contract work for his company had been so lucrative it had made her enormous mortgage possible. The prestige of his name on those regular contracts had convinced even the cautious loans officer. ‘But I’m my own boss. Why would I want to change that?’

Her independence, her ability to control her life, meant everything. Perhaps because her world had been impacted irrevocably by a single, senseless event that had robbed her of so much.

A moment’s silence told her how bizarre her attitude seemed.

‘Let’s see. The kudos for a start. Work for him and you can walk into any job you like. He only employs the best. Then there’s the salary. Read the contract before you reject it, Lily. Chances like this don’t just come along.’

His tone was urgent. But Lily knew what was right for her.

‘Thanks for your interest, Pete. I appreciate it, really I do. But it’s not possible.’ She forked her hand through her hair again, for a millisecond wondering what opportunities she might have pursued if her life had been different. If she were different.

She dropped her hand, disgusted with herself. She couldn’t change the past. Everything she wanted, everything she aspired to, was within her grasp. All she had to do was work towards her goals. Success, security, self-sufficiency. That was what she wanted. Not jostling with commuters or being a drone in a corporation. Or hankering after places she’d never visit.

‘Lily, you can’t have considered. At least think about it.’

‘I have, Pete, but the answer is no. I’m happy here.’

* * *

At first she thought the chirruping noise was the dawn chorus. Each morning magpies and cockatoos greeted the first light. But this was too monotone, too persistent. Groaning, Lily opened her eyes. It was still night.

Pulse thundering, she groped for the phone. No one rang at this time unless it was an emergency.

‘Hello?’ She struggled to sit up, shoving her pillow behind her back.

‘Ms Lily Nolan?’

The pulse that an instant ago had sprinted in her arteries gave a single mighty thump. The deep male voice was foreign, rich and dark like a shot of espresso.

She groped for the bedside light and squinted at her watch. Minutes to midnight. No wonder she felt groggy. She’d only slept half an hour.

‘Who’s speaking?’

‘Raffaele Petri.’

Raffaele Petri!

To her sleep-addled senses that voice sounded like liquid seduction. She frowned and pulled the neck of her sleep shirt closed. Male voices didn’t affect her that way. But then how many sounded like this?

‘Are you still there?’

‘Of course I’m here. I’ve just woken up.’

‘Mi dispiace.’ I’m sorry.

He didn’t sound sorry. He sounded...

Lily shook her head. If it was Raffaele Petri this was business. She couldn’t afford to think about how potently male he sounded. Even if her hormones were dancing at the sound of that deliciously accented voice.

‘Signor Petri—’ She raked her hair from her face, shuffling higher in the bed. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Sign the contract and get here subito.’

Lily choked down her instinctive response. The only place she was going subito, immediately, was back to sleep.

‘That’s impossible.’

‘Nonsense. It’s the only sensible course of action.’

Lily breathed deep, letting the chilly night air fill her lungs as she sought calm. He wasn’t only her client, he was her most important client.

‘Did you hear me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. When you’ve arranged your flight give my assistant the details. He’ll organise for you to be met at the airport.’

This must be how Renaissance Italian princes had sounded. As if every word they spoke was law. Imagine having such confidence you’d always get what you desired.

‘Thank you, but I won’t be contacting Pete.’ She cleared her throat, her voice still husky from sleep. ‘I was very flattered by your offer, Signor Petri, but I prefer working for myself.’

‘You’re turning me down?’ His soft voice raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

Had anyone ever denied Raffaele Petri what he wanted?

Lily’s heart thudded. She was on dangerous ground.

Widely touted as the most beautiful man in the world, he’d become famous as the golden-haired, outrageously handsome face, and body, that had turned designer casual into a style men around the globe aspired to emulate. No doubt he’d had women saying yes all his life.

But he had far more than looks. After leaving modelling he’d defied the critics and proven himself über-successful in business. Wealthy and powerful, Raffaele Petri was clearly used to instant compliance.

‘I’m very flattered by the offer—’

‘But?’ That purr of enquiry barely concealed a razor-sharp edge.

Lily drew in a slow breath. ‘Unfortunately I’m not in a position to accept.’

Silence. Long enough for her to wonder if she’d burned her bridges. Fear skated through her. She needed the work his company sent.

‘What would have to change so you’d be in a position to accept?’

Damn the man. Why couldn’t he just accept no?

‘May I ask instead why you want me?’ For a nanosecond heat surged at the unintentional double meaning of her words. But the idea of Raffaele Petri wanting her for anything other than work was so utterly unbelievable it rapidly faded. ‘I was told you were happy with my research and our current arrangement.’

‘If I were unhappy with your work I wouldn’t offer you a job, Ms Nolan.’ His clipped tones twisted her tension higher. ‘I want you here on my team because you’re the best at what you do. Simple as that.’

The heat suffusing her this time came from gratification.

‘Thank you, Signor Petri. I appreciate your good opinion.’ She’d love to ask about a testimonial but the throbbing silence told her this wasn’t the time. ‘Please know I’ll continue to offer the best possible service.’ She wriggled back against the pillow.

‘That’s not enough.’

‘Sorry?’ What more could he want than her best?

‘I’m starting a significant project.’ He paused. ‘I need my team on hand and bound by the utmost confidentiality.’

Lily stiffened. ‘I hope you’re not implying I’m a security risk. Every contract I accept is completed in strictest confidence. I safeguard my research and my clients.’ She never shared details of clients without permission. Which was why it would have been a coup to have a testimonial from him on her website.

She’d begun as a researcher for a private enquiry firm but the cases got her down. She’d found her niche when she widened her horizons—from staff checks to analyses of businesses and commercial trends. Lately it had been the viability of new ventures or businesses ripe for takeover.

That was where Raffaele Petri came in. The man was like a shark scenting blood before his competitors. Every time she investigated a business for him she’d discovered vulnerabilities and problems. It was the magic of the man that, once he acquired them, he turned those businesses into some of the most successful in the leisure industry, from a glamorous resort in Tahiti to a marina and yacht-building company in Turkey.

‘If I doubted your ability to keep a secret I wouldn’t hire you.’

Lily released a breath, relief rising.

‘But,’ he added, ‘I can’t afford risks. This team will be the best of the best. And it will be in New York. I need you here.’

Pride swelled. Lily had never been needed. Never stood out. Looks, school grades, sport, she’d always been average, never in the limelight until—

Lily shook her head in self-disgust at that old neediness. It was a spill over from her teenage years when she’d felt no one really wanted her, that to her family she was only a burden and a worry. And to her friends an embarrassing, constant reminder of a disaster they’d rather forget. She’d hated that awareness of being included out of duty rather than because her peers wanted her around.

His words made her long to say, Yes, of course, I’ll be in New York tomorrow.

Imagine exploring the Big Apple. Imagine...

She swallowed hard. It wasn’t possible. Facing the curious eyes of all those strangers, seeing them stare in fascination or hurriedly turn away. She wouldn’t put herself through that anymore.

‘I’m used to working with your staff from a distance. I’m sure—’

‘That’s not the way this project will proceed, Ms Nolan.’ His words were staccato, tiny darts pricking her skin. ‘I won’t tolerate failure on this one.’

Lily opened her mouth to say that if his project failed it wouldn’t be down to her.

‘Yes, Ms Nolan? You were saying?’

‘I’m sorry I can’t accommodate you, Signor Petri.’

‘I’ll double the salary. And the bonus on completion.’

Lily’s eyes widened. She’d been curious enough to check the contract and the salary had staggered her. It was more than she’d earn in two years. The thought of four years’ income in one hit was so tempting. It would solve her financial worries...

‘Changing your tune, Ms Nolan? I thought you might.’ That voice was smug now, making her want to hiss her displeasure. At him for thinking she could be bought? Or at herself for being tempted despite knowing it couldn’t happen?

Part of her still hankered after adventure, travel, excitement. But she’d had to push those dreams aside when her life had derailed at fourteen. She’d been robbed of her best friend, her carefree youth, her ‘normal’ life. She’d even missed out on things everyone else took for granted like flirting with boys and dating.

She shook her head, long tresses slipping over her cheeks. Curse the man for stirring longings she’d put behind her years before.

She loved her home, was proud she’d saved enough to be buying it. But it was more than that. Lily needed the security and peace it provided. The sense of refuge.

‘No, Signor Petri. That was the sound of surprise but not agreement.’

‘Interesting, Ms Nolan. Most people would jump at this opportunity. Why aren’t you? A family, is that it? You have a husband and children perhaps?’

‘No! I don’t—’ Lily clamped her lips shut before she blurted out anything else. Instinctively she felt safer keeping her private life private from this man.

‘No family? I thought you sounded a little young for one.’

Lily’s eyebrows arched. At twenty-eight she wasn’t so young. Or was he implying she didn’t sound professional?

Or maybe he’s just winding you up. This man enjoyed playing with her, like a cat with a trapped mouse.

Like a bully wielding his superior power.

Lily’s chin shot up. ‘I suppose age becomes important when one reaches...mature years.’

A little huff of sound reached her over the long distance. A gasp of irritation or, could it be, stifled laughter?

She shouldn’t have said it. The veiled reference to his age, five years her senior, was indiscreet and possibly ruinous. But she refused to sit like a pincushion to be needled.

‘Fortunately I’m not quite in my dotage, Ms Nolan.’

No, he wasn’t. She kept seeing photos of him at glamorous functions. Always with a sophisticated woman on his arm, but never the same one.

‘So if you don’t have a family to tie you there it must be a lover.’ His voice dipped low, like dark treacle rolling through her veins to eddy in her belly. Lily drew her knees up, pressing them to her chest, trying to kill the unsettling sensation.

‘My private life is no concern of yours, Signor Petri.’ Did he hear the wobble of fury in her voice?

‘But it is, Ms Nolan, when it comes between me and what I want.’

‘Then it’s time you discovered you can’t always get what you want.’ The words poured out. ‘I decide when and where I sell my services.’

Lily scrubbed a shaky hand over her face, her chest heaving. This was going from bad to worse. Anger and anxiety curdled her insides. And self-disgust. She needed to stay calm, no matter what the provocation.

‘I assume you don’t normally speak to your clients in that suggestively sexy voice.’ His own voice was far too sultry. ‘It would give them the wrong idea about what services you sell.’

Lily almost dropped the phone.

Suggestively sexy?

He had to be kidding! No man had ever called her sexy.

Of course he’s kidding. He’s playing with you, searching for your weak spots.

And finding them!

Curiously, the realisation calmed her, despite the burn of annoyance.

‘There are reasons I can’t work for you in New York, Signor Petri, but—’

‘Name three.’

‘Sorry?’

‘I want to know why you reject my offer. Come on, three sound reasons.’ The words shot out, quick and demanding, and before she knew it, Lily was answering.

‘I don’t have a passport for a start.’ She winced. That made her sound like some country hick to a man who travelled the world as easily as she travelled it vicariously via the internet.

‘That’s one. What else?’

‘I can’t afford to rent a place in New York.’

‘Not even with the bonus I’m offering?’

‘I have commitments here. Any money I earn goes to those.’

‘And the third? What’s your third reason?’

Because she couldn’t stand the thought of working in an office with other people? Because she wouldn’t put herself through all that again?

Because she preferred solitude? She had a good life and an exciting business plan and no bullying magnate was going to disrupt those on a whim.

‘You don’t answer, Ms Nolan, which makes me think it’s the most important reason of all. Or you don’t have one.’

Sheer strength of will stopped Lily from blurting a response. He wasn’t going to goad her again.

‘Is it a lover holding you back?’

‘You have no right to quiz me like this.’

‘I have every right when it stymies my most important deal.’

Despite his monumental arrogance, Lily’s ears pricked up. She was fascinated by this man’s business acumen, his ability to see opportunities before anyone else. She’d love to know what this secret project was.

‘You want my advice?’ She was in the process of saying ‘No’ when he spoke over top of her. ‘Ditch him, Ms Nolan. Find yourself a man who won’t obstruct such a brilliant opportunity. You’ve got real talent. You shouldn’t let him stand in the way of it.’

For a second Lily gawped. Raffaele Petri was beyond belief. If she had a partner she’d never leave him on the say-so of some self-important stranger.

‘I wasn’t aware you were an expert on relationships, Signor Petri. Aren’t your girlfriends famous for being short-term?’

Lily gasped as she heard her thoughts slip out. She’d just scuttled her future with his company. But his behaviour, his whole attitude, was offensive.

A crack of laughter sounded on the line, resolving into a warm chuckle that did strange things to her insides.

Lily stiffened as fire tongued her sensitive flesh. A hot shiver ripped through her as if a warm masculine hand, rather than a disembodied voice, caressed her. She swallowed hard, horrified at her instantaneous response.

Wasn’t it enough that the man looked like a Greek god come to life? Did he have to sound irresistible too? Lily pressed the heel of her palm to her sternum, trying to ease her heart’s wild pounding.

She detested bullies. Her response was inexplicable.

Except it wasn’t. She was a young, healthy woman, with the physical urges that went with that. Her hormones didn’t care if he was a saint or the devil incarnate. All they cared about was that they’d been deprived of anything like excitement or satisfaction for far too long.

‘Don’t laugh at me!’ Her words rapped out, too short, too sharp.

In the sudden silence she realised what she’d revealed. He knew he’d got to her.

Raffaele Petri might be a bully but he was clever. All the world knew he came from the backstreets of some large Italian city. His business success was a commercial miracle.

‘What if I’m laughing at myself? Finally being called on my defects.’ His voice held an edge but she couldn’t tell if it was amusement or banked fury. ‘My decrepit age. My lack of emotional staying power. What else, I wonder?’ He paused. ‘Have you been investigating me, Ms Nolan?’

Despite the rich cadence of his voice, Lily heard the threat in that low purr of sound.

‘I haven’t, Signor Petri. Your business, yes, before I agreed to work for it. But as for a personal profile...’ She shook her head, her hair swirling. ‘That wasn’t necessary.’

‘Because the paparazzi do such a thorough job of portraying someone’s life, don’t they?’

Lily frowned. Was that emotion? Had she hit a nerve?

‘The passport can be fast-tracked. I’ll get my people onto it. Accommodation will be arranged. Plus I’ll have the contract altered to include the increased salary and bonus.’ He paused, which was as well, because her head was spinning. His abrupt change of subject left her floundering. ‘Appealing enough for you?’

The silence that followed was thick with expectation. He was waiting for her to agree before he hung up and dealt with whatever issue was next on his list.

Except Lily wasn’t some problem to be fixed.

‘I appreciate the offer, the very handsome offer,’ she choked out, her fingers clamping the phone. ‘But it won’t work for me. I’m happy to do whatever I can from here—’

‘But that won’t work for me.’ His voice sent a trickle of foreboding down her backbone.

For ten seconds there was silence. For twenty. But Lily refused to back down. What he asked was impossible for her and she had too much pride to explain why.

‘You leave me no choice, Ms Nolan. We’ll find someone else to be principal researcher.’

Lily eased back against her pillow, shaky as the tension gripping her body finally began to abate.

‘And my company won’t hire you again.’

Lily couldn’t stifle a hiss of shock. Air locked somewhere between her throat and her lungs as her body froze. Stars scattered her vision, dimming to pinpricks till, with a sagging release, her lungs began pumping again.

Without his business, hers was dead in the water. Four months ago she’d have weathered the setback but not now. Not since the loan and the expansion.

If she couldn’t meet the repayments she’d lose everything—her work and her home. The life she’d so painstakingly built.

‘Did you say something, Ms Nolan?’

Lily gulped to clear her throat but couldn’t think of a thing to say.

‘It won’t take long for my dissatisfaction with your service to get out, either. You’d be surprised how fast news spreads. Continental boundaries don’t mean anything and I have contacts around the world. From Melbourne to Mumbai, London to Los Angeles.’

Again that lethal pause, allowing her time to process the bleak scenario he’d painted. Her name would be mud with the really big enterprises, the internationals she’d set her sights on to make her expanded business a success.

‘You’ll go out of your way to blacken my name?’ Her voice was a thin scratch of sound but at least it was steady. Unlike the rest of her. She shook as if with fever.

‘I’ll be sure to mention it whenever appropriate.’ In other words he’d take delight in savaging her reputation.

Hatred coiled, tightening in her belly. Hatred as she’d only ever felt once before, for the guy who’d changed her life in an instant—from carefree to a grim round of medical treatments. Her hand lifted to her face.

Swallowing hard, Lily turned the nervous gesture into a defiant flick of the wrist, sending her long hair flying back from her face. Deliberately she set her chin, staring at her face reflected in the window.

One thing Raffaele Petri didn’t know—she was a fighter. She’d survived far worse than he could dish out and emerged stronger as a result.

She lowered her hand, smoothing the quilt as she dragged in aching breaths. She opened her mouth to speak but he beat her to it.

‘Of course if you were to change your mind...’

Fury swamped her. He knew she had no choice.

Even so, part of her brain noted that the snake in the Garden of Eden must have sounded like this. No hissing, no sharpness. Just a lush, seductive roll of sound that invited her to go against everything she knew and trusted. To take the plunge, even though it must end in disaster.

‘You’re nothing if not predictable, Signor Petri.’ She pressed the phone to her ear but heard no response. ‘Textbook bullying, in fact.’

Still nothing. His silence infuriated her but she refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing her rant. She looked at her hand, fisted so tight in her lap it was hard to prise open. When she did she saw scarlet crescents where her nails had scored.

‘Very well, Signor Petri. I’ll work for you.’ Her lungs ached as she released the breath crammed in her chest. ‘But you can change the contract to three times the original salary. Ditto with the bonus. Have it in my inbox tomorrow and if it’s satisfactory I’ll sign.’ She paused, trying to control her sharp, shallow breaths.

To her astonishment he didn’t disagree.

‘I’ll see you in New York, Ms Nolan.’

Not if I see you first.

She might be stuck working for him but she had no illusions he’d be part of the project team. He’d be sunning himself in the Bahamas or skiing in Switzerland or whatever the wealthy did when they weren’t harassing ordinary people. Somehow she’d deal with the travel and all those people. She’d do the job, take his money and come back to build her future here as she’d planned.

She’d get through this.

‘Goodbye, Signor Petri.’

‘Not goodbye. Arrivederci, Ms Nolan.’

CHAPTER TWO

RAFFA GOT TO the office after a breakfast meeting.

Across the large room he saw an unfamiliar figure—long hair, loose shirt, loose trousers and flat shoes. The clothes were resolutely unfeminine but the body beneath all that unflattering drabness wasn’t. Femininity was there in the way she moved, despite her rigid back and high shoulders.

It had to be Lily Nolan. The area was off-limits to all but his hand-picked team.

She’d been tense on the phone that night too. Uptight and angry, yet that husky, just-awake voice had done things to him no woman had in years.

He frowned at the unwanted memory.

Raffa’s eyes narrowed on the rhythmic swish of hair down her narrow back as she walked away. It all but reached her waist. Not blonde or black or even dark but simply brown. A brown so ordinary and unremarkable it looked uncompromising, as if she spurned most women’s desire to improve on nature with eye-catching colour.

He turned into his private office and took a seat, gesturing for his assistant to do the same. Through the glass walls he saw Lily Nolan talking with someone by the door to the conference room. Her body language radiated stress, right down to the fist clenching at her side.

Had he made a mistake bringing her here? He’d wanted her because of her talents, her often brilliant insights and her professionalism. He knew she’d go the extra mile to meet his needs.

But that night on the phone her obstinacy, the way she challenged him as no one else dared, had piqued his interest. He’d accepted her outrageous terms because every refusal she gave made him more determined to win.

The knowledge he’d acted on a whim had annoyed him ever since. He never allowed himself to be sidetracked. He’d got where he was by grabbing every opportunity to build his wealth and success. Even if some of those opportunities were unpalatable, they’d been necessary. He was never impulsive.

‘How’s our newest staff member fitting in? Any problems?’

‘No, nothing like that.’

Was that a flush on Pete’s boyish face? Raffa felt his eyebrows cinch together. The woman had been here less than a day. Surely she hadn’t seduced his PA already?

‘She’s hit the ground running. She must be jet-lagged but she’s already got acquainted with our set up here. Now she’s meeting the rest of the team.’ Pete swivelled his head towards the conference room, his gaze fixed.

Raffa realised it wasn’t adoration on his assistant’s face but something he couldn’t read.

‘Yet she makes you uncomfortable?’

Pete’s face mottled red. Embarrassment? Lust?

‘Of course not.’ The words tumbled out too quickly. ‘She’s very professional.’

Professional. It sounded like faint praise. Especially since in the past he’d overheard Pete laughing with the woman over a long-distance connection.

‘But?’ Raffa fixed him with a stern gaze. His policy was to remove problems the instant they arose. If this woman disrupted the smoothly oiled workings of his team he’d take action immediately.

Pete shrugged. ‘You know how it is when you know someone only from a distance. You build up a picture in your mind. The reality can be...different.’ He gestured abruptly to the tablet he carried. ‘About the review of the Hawaiian hotel. Will I bring that forward? You’d mentioned a snap inspection to keep them on their toes.’

Raffa surveyed his PA, reading his discomfort. It was probably as Pete said—the deflating reality of the first face-to-face meeting. But Raffa never left anything to chance.

He’d planned to leave the rebellious Australian alone today to get on with the job for which he was paying such an exorbitant salary. And he would—after he’d checked her out.

* * *

‘We’re busy wrapping up some other projects but anything you need on the legal side, let me know.’ Consuela Flores gave a brisk nod and smile from the end of the conference table and Lily felt herself sink back in her seat, a grateful answering smile on her face.

Among the group she’d be working with, the middle-aged lawyer had proved the easiest to deal with. Her severe demeanour, magenta power suit, expensive pearls and stiffly lacquered hair had made Lily wary. Here was an imposing woman for whom appearance as well as performance was important. Yet after a millisecond of silence when they met and that brief, predictable widening of the eyes, Ms Flores had treated Lily like everyone else around the table.

Lily had wanted to hug her for that.

This morning had been tough, every bit as difficult as she’d feared. Her hands were clammy, her chest weighted and her pulse still too fast. Forcing herself into the office had been a major test of nerves already strung out from the stress of travelling.

‘Thanks, I appreciate that. For now, though, I suspect it won’t be legal expertise I need. There’ll be a lot of digging first.’

Consuela nodded. ‘I’m glad it’s you doing the digging. Your reports for the Turkish deal made our work much easier. There’s nothing like heading into negotiations well-prepared, with no lurking pitfalls. Now you’re onsite we can touch base as anything arises.’

Lily’s smile grew, the clamp on her chest easing a little.

Only the knowledge she was up to this job, more than up to it, had got her across the Pacific, across the United States and into this building, when all she wanted was to lock herself inside her home and not budge.

She could do this, no matter how horribly far out of her comfort zone she felt.

No, she wouldn’t just do the job. She’d excel! Her work meant everything. It was the one part of her world where she had complete control, complete confidence.

Which made it all the more infuriating that she’d been nauseous with nerves today. Fronting up at the office was the most difficult thing she’d done in years.

See what happens when you lock yourself away all the time?

Now it’s you with the problem, not them.

Lily banished the voice in her head. She didn’t have time for self-doubt.

‘I’m looking forward to working with you too, Consuela.’

She darted a glance around the table. The woman from finance in retro-trendy glasses quickly turned her head as if she’d been watching the lawyer, not Lily. But she was too slow. Besides, the distressed twist of her lips, as if she felt ill, betrayed her.

Further down the table the guy from acquisitions flushed as Lily turned to him. Like Pete, Raffaele Petri’s PA, he found looking at her embarrassing. Beside him the older man from systems management didn’t even try, instead staring past her shoulder.

Lily sat straighter, determined not to be daunted.

Yet that didn’t stop the sick feeling in her stomach, or the churning memories of her previous forays into office work. Each one a disaster. Eventually she’d given up trying and decided to work from the seclusion of home.

The fingers of her right hand twitched but she repressed the urge to raise her hand to her face. It had taken years to cure herself of the habit and she wasn’t starting again now. No matter how exposed she felt before these strangers.

‘I appreciate you all making time to meet me on my first day. I’ll look forward to working with you.’

Liar!

‘I have a question, though.’ Lily looked to Consuela. ‘We all have different areas of responsibility, but is there a team leader? Without coordination we’ll have problems.’

‘That would be me.’ The masculine voice curled around her like warm smoke.

Her heart jolted and a prickling spread across her skin.

She’d only heard that voice once but its echo had lurked in her subconscious since, visiting in those moments between waking and sleep when she was most vulnerable.

Was that heat flushing her cheeks?

It couldn’t be. She’d spent half her life being gawked at. She’d lost the ability to blush in her teens.

Reluctantly she turned her head.

It was a good thing she was sitting.

Raffaele Petri’s face was known around the globe. Yet the photos hadn’t prepared her. Tall, taller than she’d expected with his Italian heritage. Wide shoulders, slim hips, long legs—the epitome of masculinity in its prime. Oddly his casual jacket and open-necked shirt emphasised rather than detracted from the power she sensed in him. He didn’t need a three-piece suit to stamp his authority.

Chiselled features that looked too close to perfection to be true. She’d assumed those photos had been airbrushed. Yes, there were crinkles around his eyes, as if from time in the sun, but perversely that only made him more attractive. Hair the colour of dark old gold, tidy but hinting at tousled. Enough to make her fingers twitch at the thought of touching. The hooded cast of his eyes looked languorous until you met that piercing blue stare.

Lily swallowed over a ball of sandpaper in her throat. Meeting his gaze was a palpable experience, as if he’d reached out and taken her hand. Sizzling heat ran through her as those eyes held hers—compelling, electric.

It wasn’t just that he was ridiculously handsome, she realised as she forced a slow breath out. He was...more. Even from the other side of the conference table she felt the crackle of energy, the sense he was a man who made things happen.

Unhurriedly he surveyed her, cataloguing everything from the hair brushing her cheeks to her face, her throat and down as far as was visible above the table.

The old resentment rose, that he should scrutinise her like some animal in a cage. Till she realised she’d done the same—taking in his appearance in minute detail.

The knowledge sapped her anger, leaving her winded as his gaze lifted.

‘At last we meet, Ms Nolan.’

* * *

So that explained it.

Realisation slammed into Raffa like a fist to the chest, so strong it felt like recognition. An unexpected hit of adrenaline.

But recognition implied a link with the woman on the far side of the table. That was nonsense, even if the memory of her husky voice and feisty attitude had intruded at the oddest times these past weeks. The pulse of energy he felt could only be satisfaction at getting to the bottom of his PA’s discomfort.

Lily Nolan’s long hair framed an oval face that should have been, at best, ordinary. Brown eyes, a mouth neither thin-lipped nor lush, an unremarkable nose. Beautiful she wasn’t, but she might have been pretty if it weren’t for the wide swathe of tight, shiny skin that ran from her temple down one cheek to her jaw.

Scars faded with time. How long had she had this? The colour wasn’t livid and she’d had plastic surgery. It must have been a hell of a sight before that.

Not a knife wound. He’d seen enough in his youth to realise no knife marked like this.

A burn? Some other trauma?

‘Signor Petri.’ That familiar voice stirred something unaccustomed that for a heartbeat distracted him.

He circled the table, arm extended.

She hesitated then pushed her chair back to stand. Her long, buttoned-up shirt fell loose around her slim frame. Again her choice of clothes hit him. A deliberate attempt not to fit in? To make the point she was here under sufferance? As if he cared what his staff wore so long as they did their work.

Her hand clasped his. Smooth and cool and small.

She just topped his shoulder in her flat shoes, tilting her head to meet his eyes. At the movement her hair slid back off her cheek, revealing more of that shiny, scarred flesh. But it wasn’t the blemish that drew his attention, it was the bright challenge in her eyes.

‘I believe this is where I’m supposed to say it’s a pleasure to meet you, Signor Petri.’

A gasp from the other side of the room reminded him of the staff still there.

Raffa held her hand in an easy grasp, not ready to let go.

‘That’s right,’ he murmured, bestowing a small smile. He’d won their little contest of wills and could afford to be gracious.

Yet he saw no softening in that stern expression, no easing in her rigidity. Not even a hint of response in those serious eyes.

Surprise flickered. It was rare to find someone genuinely unresponsive to his charm.

Lily Nolan grew more interesting by the moment.

‘It’s definitely a pleasure to meet you, Lily.’ He widened his smile just a fraction, lingering on her name. ‘I’ve been looking forward to having you here as part of the team.’

Silence for just a moment too long. ‘So I gather, since you went to such lengths to get me here.’

Another muffled sound came from nearby but Raffa didn’t turn. He didn’t care what anyone thought.

‘You were certainly elusive.’

He waited, expecting her to pull her hand from his. Instead she stood, unmoving but for the fine vibration coursing from her hand to his. She was wound up tight, bottling in strong emotion.

Yet her eyes met his directly, nothing but challenge to be read there.

This woman would make a hell of a poker player. She betrayed no hint of weakness or discomfort.

His gaze zeroed in on a minuscule movement at the corner of her mouth. For a moment he wondered if it could be the scar pulling at her mouth, till he remembered there’d been no distortion of her lips when she spoke. The tiny flicker of movement was what then? Her biting her cheek?

‘Did you want me for something now?’ She looked pointedly at their joined hands and Raffa felt amusement bubble. She was so patently determined to be unimpressed. So ostentatiously unaffected by his looks or position. Perversely he liked it.

How long since he’d done anything, gone anywhere, and been treated like an average Joe?

It was a novelty he hadn’t known he craved till a slip of a woman with muddy brown eyes looked at him as if he wasn’t anything special.

‘As a matter of fact, now is the perfect time to brief you in more detail about my expectations.’ He turned and nodded to Pete. Moments later his stalwart PA had emptied the room and closed the door on them.

If Lily Nolan was intimidated she didn’t show it. Her hand lay unresisting in his, as if making the point his touch was immaterial to her.

Who was this woman? She’d intrigued him from their first contact.

Raffa’s world and the people in it were predictable. Mostly they wanted something from him—reflected fame, an ‘in’ to the best circles, business opportunities, sex. Everyone wanted something.

Except this woman who didn’t want him at all.

Was that why she fascinated him? Because he’d grown bored?

Raffa released his hold. He had more significant things to concentrate on than the novelty of an employee who resented his authority.

Yet he admired the way she slowly slid her hand away, not snatching it, though he’d touched her far too long. Nor did she move back, but stood, taking stock as he did.

His eyes dipped to her loose, unattractive clothing. She’d gone too far with the dressing down, the not being just another cog in his corporate wheel.

Unless she dressed that way because the scar on her face wasn’t the only one. Did she have other injuries that made it uncomfortable to wear fitted clothes? The thought stirred discomfort.

Because he’d brought her here against her wishes? The idea was ludicrous. Whatever her problems, he wasn’t responsible for them. He employed her at an outrageously high salary and hitherto unheard of bonuses.

‘Take a seat.’ He gestured to the chair she’d vacated and sank into one beside it. He was determined to understand this woman. Then he could push her from his thoughts and get on with business.

She sat watching him, feet flat on the floor, hands clasped loosely. For all the world as if he, not she, was the one whose work had to impress.

Raffa felt his lips twitch. If ever he needed another negotiator on his acquisitions team he could do far worse than Lily Nolan.

* * *

Lily read that quirk of his sculpted lips and knew she amused him.

An icicle of frozen rage jabbed her side. She wanted to cry out but kept her mouth closed and her face calm. She’d weathered enough pity, horror, revulsion and sympathy to last a lifetime. A self-important tycoon who laughed at her because she wasn’t a perfectly tailored, respectful employee hardly mattered.

Or was he amused by how unfeminine she looked? His inspection had raked her from head to toe.

Remarkably, though he’d surveyed her damaged face his gaze hadn’t lingered longer there than anywhere else. Almost as if her scar were no more significant than the shape of her nose or the comfy shoes she’d grabbed rather than teeter in the unaccustomed heels she’d bought in a moment of weakness. As if a pair of shoes would transform her into just another office worker!

Not with her face.

Was that what amused him? The difference between his bronzed beauty and her marred features?

She swallowed hard, tasting sharp bitterness. She was jumping to conclusions. Raffaele Petri was selfish and ruthless. She had no proof he was shallow and cruel.

But the day was young.

It wouldn’t be the first time someone had used her as a foil for their own beauty. In her final year at school a couple of new girls had befriended her, both beautiful, blonde and bubbly. For the first time in years Lily had felt accepted and valued. Till she overheard them discussing how letting her hang out with them made people see them as sympathetic and even prettier than they were.

Lily shoved the memories away, drawing back her shoulders, imagining strength streaming through her spine and lifted chin. Whatever his game, she was his match. She might not be much to look at but she’d developed a strength of purpose few could equal.

Silence stretched but she refused to fill it. If this was a test of willpower he’d be disappointed.

Eyes the colour of the Pacific Ocean met hers, piercing as if reading her thoughts.

‘You’re settled into your office?’

She nodded. ‘Yes, thank you. Pete showed me around.’

To her horror she’d discovered the floor full, not of little rabbit-hutch cubicles where workers could hide from public view, but of spacious glassed-in offices that reduced noise levels but left everyone on show.

Worse was the fact her office was beside Pete and Raffaele Petri. The idea of working with this man watching her made something shrivel inside.

‘And your accommodation? It’s comfortable?’

Lily nodded. The size and luxury had overwhelmed her, reminding her she was a country girl, out of her depth in sophisticated New York. Fortunately jet lag had got the better of her last night before she’d had a chance to explore properly and feel like too much of a misfit. This morning she’d overslept and had to rush to get ready. All she’d really seen was the sybaritic black marble bathroom and the inside of her suitcase as she hunted for clothes.

‘Yes, thank you. It’s quite sufficient.’

‘Sufficient?’ His mouth kicked up in a smile that did strange things to her pulse, turning it from steady to riotous. It was bad enough when he’d smiled before. He’d looked so compellingly handsome he’d stolen her breath. But this was different—genuine, and more powerful for it.

‘What’s so amusing?’ She sat straighter.

His eyes zeroed in on hers and a fizzle of heat zapped her bones. ‘I’ve never heard my penthouse described as merely sufficient.’

CHAPTER THREE

‘YOUR PENTHOUSE?’ LILY couldn’t hide the shock in her voice. ‘I’m staying in your penthouse?’ Her fingers dug at her chair’s leather arms.

‘No other floor has a roof garden or swimming pool.’ He surveyed her as if analysing a curious specimen.

For the second time that day she felt almost like she were blushing.

‘I didn’t open the blinds. It was late and I was jet-lagged and—’ She snapped her mouth shut before she blurted out any more. She’d had a vague impression of a spacious sitting room, of stylish furnishings, but she’d never dreamed...

‘Never mind, you’ll see the roof garden later.’

Lily shook her head. ‘There won’t be a later. I can’t stay there.’

‘But you said the accommodation was perfectly adequate.’ This time his mouth didn’t curl in a smile but she knew he was laughing at her. How could he not be when she was too thick to realise she’d spent the night in a Manhattan penthouse?

‘It’s your home. It wouldn’t be appropriate.’

* * *

Raffa couldn’t imagine any of the women he’d dated turning down an opportunity to move into his apartment, even if just the guest quarters. They’d see it as a stepping stone to more.

He’d known Lily Nolan was different from the moment she picked up the phone and spoke in that sultry midnight voice. It had evoked a fragile tendril of something—not quite arousal, but definite interest.

She continued to pique his interest. She was...refreshing. Intriguing. Not because of her damaged face or appalling clothes. He, of all people, was the last person to judge on looks.

How many years since he’d found any woman interesting?

He leaned closer, registering her subtle shift as she compensated by pressing back into her chair.

Did she dislike men or just him?

The fact he wondered pulled him up short.

He wouldn’t be distracted into musing on Lily Nolan’s likes and dislikes. But he did need to ensure he’d made the right decision, bringing her here. Too much rode on this.

‘If I think the arrangement appropriate then who’s to say otherwise?’

‘Are you perverse with everyone or just me?’ She spoke slowly, enunciating each syllable with clipped precision. ‘I can’t live in your home.’

‘Is it your privacy you’re concerned about? Are you worried I’ll invade your space?’

The paparazzi labelled him a playboy because he wasn’t seen with the same woman twice. No one knew that was due to boredom and a dislike of being the object of any greedy woman’s avarice. These days his reputation for carnal pleasure owed everything to the fantasies of those he hadn’t taken to bed. He hadn’t desired a woman in years.

They always wanted something from him. Always had.

He hated how that made him feel.

Surely Lily Nolan didn’t think he was so desperate he’d sexually harass his staff?

‘The guest wing is separate, with its own entrance. There’s a lock on the door connecting to the rest of the penthouse so you’ll be quite alone.’ In light of experience, he should be worried about her intruding.

Yet she remained silent. Indignation rose.

The sensation made him pause. Raffa couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt it.

Because he always got his own way?

Or because there was little except business that he cared about, including what people thought of him?

‘The arrangement is temporary. My PA had organised accommodation but there was trouble with burst pipes yesterday. The place is badly water damaged.’

‘I could stay at a hotel.’

‘You could, but you said you couldn’t afford that. Something about spending your salary on other things.’

Her eyebrows lifted as if she recognised his curiosity and was surprised by it.

Dannazione! He was surprised by it!

‘You couldn’t have put me up somewhere else?’

‘Because I’m rolling in cash?’ She had a point. It would have been the work of a moment for Pete to make alternative arrangements. But Raffa was already financing her New York stay in style. Besides, having her close meant a chance to satisfy his curiosity.

‘I didn’t get rich by wasting money, Ms Nolan. The guest suite is empty and convenient for your work here. I can be sure you’ll be on hand, doing what I want you to do, not off sightseeing.’

For a moment her eyes glowed and he could have sworn the temperature in the room rose a couple of degrees. But her temper didn’t ignite. She really had phenomenal control.

Raffa refused to consider why he enjoyed testing it.

‘You may recall I didn’t want to come to New York. If you’re concerned I’ll get distracted I could go home and work there.’

He shook his head. ‘You’ll stay where you are till the other apartment is ready. I’m paying top dollar for your services. I want to be sure I get my money’s worth.’

‘You don’t trust me?’ Her head angled as if to view him better.

‘I don’t trust anyone till they prove themselves.’

Her gaze sharpened. ‘You were the one eager to have me here.’

He shrugged and steepled his hands, elbows on the arms of his chair.

‘Based on past performance, I judge you to be the person I need. But this project is more important than any you’ve done. Nothing will be left to chance.’

* * *

Lily looked into those bright blue eyes, felt the intensity of that searing stare and knew they’d reached the heart of things.

She felt the change in him. The quickening, the sizzle of energy.

Their conversation up to now had been skirmishes. Maybe he kept all new staff on their toes till he was convinced of their worth. Though why he’d take such a personal interest in her she couldn’t fathom.

‘Why is it so important?’

The furrow on his tanned brow disappeared as he leaned back. ‘I won’t brook failure on this.’

As far as Lily knew he never failed. Raffaele Petri had a nose for a good deal and a reputation for success. He also had an unerring instinct for what would appeal to the wealthiest clientele. That was how he’d built his fortune, with elite resorts, clubs and now marinas servicing those who demanded the best in everything. The rich always had enough to spend on themselves despite economic downturns that affected people like her, struggling to make a go of things.

‘This man I’m to focus on, Robert Bradshaw...’

‘Yes?’

‘Can you tell me about him?’

‘That’s your job. I want a full report—his business interests, friends and connections. Everything.’ Raffaele Petri’s expression didn’t alter but Lily heard something in his voice that made the hair at her nape rise.

She had the disquieting certainty she was venturing into dangerous waters. Once more instinct yelled at her to back out. But she had no choice. He’d destroy her reputation if she reneged on this job.

‘It would help if you told me something about the project.’

He regarded her, unblinking, and she shivered. It was said Raffaele Petri could seduce a woman with a glance from those stunning ocean-blue eyes. Not that he’d ever turn his fabled seduction skills on her. But what she read there now was hard calculation. Shrewdness as if he assessed her, deciding how much to share.

Not much, if the firm set of his sculpted jaw was an indication.

Lily stared back, trying to ignore the tremor of feminine response fluttering through her belly and the teasing trickle of heat in her blood.

What a time for her hormones to wake up from hibernation!

She breathed deep, corralling her thoughts. ‘My other commissions for you have been to research companies or commercial trends, even localities.’ They had been to determine if a site or company would be a good investment. ‘This time it’s about a man.’

Still he said nothing, as if waiting to see how far she could go connecting the dots.

Exasperation rose. ‘Is there a particular angle I’m to focus on?’

‘I told you. Everything. The size and nature of his income. His business associates. His interests, his weaknesses and habits. Who he sleeps with. The lot.’

Was it imagination, or did that stare harden?

She didn’t imagine it. His voice when he’d said ‘who he sleeps with’ was different, his Italian accent stronger, like rich chocolate coating a lethal stiletto blade. She fought to repress a shiver. Whoever Robert Bradshaw was, whatever he’d done, she’d hate to be in his shoes.

In that instant Lily felt what she’d understood only intellectually before: Raffaele Petri would be a dangerous enemy.

Just as well she was too insignificant to be his enemy.

‘I see.’ She didn’t, but clearly he wasn’t going to enlighten her. ‘Okay. I’ll do the best I can.’

‘That’s not good enough. I need to know you’ll deliver the goods.’

‘You’ll get your report, Signor Petri. But it will take time. This is a broad brief.’ She waved one hand, trying to look brisk and organised, despite the chill sinking between her shoulder blades. ‘His commercial interests and associates I can uncover. I’ll do a thorough check on all those. His property and lifestyle, ditto. But there are limits.’

‘Limits?’ Dark eyebrows rose as if he’d never heard the word.

‘I’m a researcher, Signor Petri, not a private detective. If you want information on this man’s personal life, you’d do better hiring one of those. They can stake out his residence and give you an account of his comings and goings.’

He was already shaking his head. ‘I learned long ago not to trust them. I want results, not excuses.’

Surprised, Lily leaned forward, then froze as she registered a warm, spicy scent. It teased her nostrils, sending shockwaves of delight to her belly.

It made her think of photos she’d seen of this man years ago. He’d lain half naked on a rumpled bed, jaw shadowed and his arms raised behind his head in a pose that accentuated the impressive musculature of his chest and arms. The sight had coaxed millions of women to buy decadently expensive aftershave for their men.

Was that what she smelled now? Lily inhaled, wondering at the art of producing a fragrance that seemed so purely natural, like hot male flesh and forbidden longing.

Abruptly she pulled back, trying to remember her train of thought.

That was it. When had he used private detectives in the past, and why didn’t he like them?

His expression made it clear he wouldn’t answer.

She shrugged. ‘It’s up to you. I’m just warning you that there are limits to my capabilities.’

‘Yet you once worked in a private detection firm, even received some training.’

Lily stared. He knew that about her? She tried to recall how much detail she’d included on her résumé, but what really surprised her was that he’d read it personally.

‘It was a long time ago and I didn’t qualify as a private investigator. The work didn’t suit me.’ She’d got sick of grubbing around in people’s personal lives. Commercial research was much less seedy.

‘But you have the skills. I want everything, from Bradshaw’s finances to his phone records.’

Lily laid her hands in her lap, maintaining her aura of calm despite the alarm bells going off in her head.

‘Unless you have a warrant, phone records are protected.’ She paused, breathing deep. ‘Obviously you’re not talking about hacking into phone company records.’

Those straight, decisive eyebrows rose. ‘Aren’t I? But I understood you included hacking in your skill set.’

Lily reared back, her seat sliding away from the conference table. ‘How did you know that? It was years ago.’

Her breath came in staccato bursts. It had been years since anyone had mentioned her one brush with the law. She’d been just a kid, bored from being alone so much, cut off from her friends by the regime of medical treatment and surgery she’d undergone. And by the fact that to a lot of her schoolmates she’d become a freak. Not just because of her scars, but because she’d been the one to survive. She’d wondered if they felt guilty because secretly they’d have preferred it if her popular friend Rachel had lived, not her.

Emotion tugged at her like an ocean current, threatening to pull her under.

Instead she focused on Raffaele Petri—so strong and arrogant and utterly in control. She’d bet he’d never felt overwhelmed or insecure. Surprisingly, that worked. Her racing pulse slowed.

‘I chose the best for this project team, with the best skill set. Your short-lived career as a hacker was impressive. It’s a wonder you got off so lightly.’

Lily crossed her arms over her chest. ‘I was underage. And I did no damage.’

‘No, just managed to break into one of the best protected and encrypted government databases in the world.’

* * *

‘If you hired me to break the law, think again, Signor Petri. I won’t do that for any client.’ She sprang to her feet and paced away.

That was better. At last he read something definite in Lily Nolan. Not just anger but indignation and surely a little fear?

He didn’t want to scare her. But she’d sparred with him for so long he’d begun to wonder what it would take to probe past her control. Even when she was angry she’d been coolly poised, a challenge, a mystery he couldn’t resist prodding.

Not now. Now Raffa saw the woman behind the mask of calm self-sufficiency.

What he saw heightened his interest.

Lily Nolan’s eyes flashed fire as she turned to face him. Her lips moved in what he was sure was an unconscious pout of defiance. A pout any red-blooded man would respond to.

Except he was her boss.

He never harassed his staff.

Besides, he wasn’t into kissing. He’d perfected the art from necessity but never really enjoyed it. It was a tool like any other to get what he wanted.

Raffa stilled, surprised at his blurring thoughts. He didn’t want to kiss Lily Nolan. The idea was farcical.

He wanted to understand her. Label and catalogue her so she no longer took up even a scintilla of his brain space. Then he’d move on to more important things.

Yet now he’d provoked a reaction he wanted more. Contempt welled. Had he turned into what he’d always abhorred? A wealthy man so self-absorbed his only delight was toying with others?

‘You have scruples, Ms Nolan.’

She strode back to stand close, hands on her hips.

‘There are lines I won’t cross, Signor Petri. Breaking the law is one.’

Spoken like a woman who’d never experienced real need. Raffa’s mouth tightened. He knew precisely the depths to which poverty and desperation could drive people.

Or was that the excuse he used to justify his past?

‘Not even for money?’

Those eyes weren’t muddy brown now. They looked almost pure amber, rimmed with honey brown, and they met his with quiet certainty. ‘Not even for money.’

Slowly he nodded. ‘Good. Then presumably you can’t be bought by a competitor to betray confidential information.’

A furrow appeared on her forehead. ‘Was all this some elaborate test of my honesty?’

Raffa shrugged. Easier to let her believe his interest was so straightforward than try to explain something he didn’t understand himself.

If her report was insufficient, he’d have to ignore his prejudice and hire a detective. At least now he wouldn’t be sucked in by nebulous ‘promising leads’ that required just a little more time to produce results.

Years ago, when he’d begun making decent money, he’d spent lavishly on fruitless investigations. Older than his years in most ways, his desperation to find the man responsible for his sister’s death had made him gullible in this one area.

Now he knew better. He didn’t trust investigators.

He didn’t trust anyone.

Raffa pushed his chair back and stood. ‘We’ll meet when you’ve completed your initial report.’

By that time this fascination would have worn off. She’d be just another employee.

CHAPTER FOUR

THERE WAS NO SOUND, no disturbance, but suddenly Lily knew she was no longer alone.

Her spine tingled from her scalp to her tailbone. Her skin drew tight and she realised she’d frozen, fingers on the keyboard, waiting.

Slowly she lifted her head.

There he was, one shoulder propped against the doorjamb, legs casually crossed at the ankles. The only man whose presence she could sense with unerring accuracy.

Every time.

Even before he looked at her.

Even when he never looked at her.

It was a sixth sense, something primitive, buried so deep in her animal instinct as to be inexplicable. Yet it happened whenever Raffaele Petri got near. Lily was always the first to notice his presence. Her senses were on alert when he was nearby, even if he wasn’t talking to her.

Now he watched her with a heavy-lidded look that made her blood surge.

She’d thought him stunning in the casual trousers and jackets he wore in the office. But in formal clothes... Her eyes widened. He looked like some sinfully gorgeous fallen angel wearing a tuxedo and a lazy half smile. The bow tie loose around his collar added a decadently raffish air.

‘Working late again?’

Lily nodded and cleared her throat. Ridiculous that he had this effect after more than a month, but there was no mistaking the excited pump of her heart or that sudden breathlessness.

It did no good to tell herself millions of other women had the same reaction. Or that she made a fool of herself. All she could do was ensure no one, most especially the man before her, guessed.

‘But obviously not to impress the boss.’ He crossed his arms but Lily kept her eyes on his face, refusing to dwell on the way the gesture emphasised the impressive symmetry of his broad-shouldered, slim-hipped frame.

‘You think not?’ Her voice worked after all.

What she’d give for an interruption! These days other members of staff were in and out of her office regularly. To her surprise, after their initial shock they’d accepted her as one of the team—so different from her other work experiences. Maybe because she’d been so focused on this project she hadn’t had the leisure to stress about their reactions?

Yet a frantic glance through the glass walls told her they were alone. Everyone had gone home long ago.

‘I know not.’ He straightened and, to her alarm, stepped into her office.

‘You’re a mind-reader now too?’ The words blurted out.

‘In addition to what?’ He stopped a couple of paces from her desk, sucking all the oxygen out of her office. ‘No, don’t tell me. I’ll enjoy the challenge of working it out.’

Lily sat back, letting her hands drop to her lap. His words were light, as if he viewed their interactions as some sort of game.

Well, she wasn’t playing.

Especially since his light tone didn’t match that assessing scrutiny.

‘How do you know I’m not trying to impress you with my diligence?’ Better to stick to concrete issues than try to guess what was going on in that brilliant, convoluted mind.

He shrugged, the fluid movement innately Italian.

‘You never look to me for approval. You don’t hang about my office asking questions or showing off your success with what you’ve unearthed about Bradshaw.’

Lily’s mouth twitched, a smile hovering at the implication he’d been impressed. But she was too much on edge to allow her lips to curve up. If she let down her guard with this man, she sensed she might never be able to resurrect it.

No matter how charming he could be, Raffaele Petri was dangerous. He’d forced her here. He’d unleashed a sexual awareness in her that terrified her. Every day and every night he’d loomed in her thoughts, a forbidden temptation when she should have been focusing on work or sleep or anything but mortifyingly sensual imaginings.

‘You see the end results anyway.’ Carefully she laced her fingers together as if relaxed. ‘What would be the point of hanging around your office showing off every little success?’

Those sculpted lips stretched in a smile that tugged a sexy crease down one tanned cheek.

Heat drilled from Lily’s lungs to her belly, cramping her abdominal muscles and stirring sexual arousal, instant and unmistakable.

That was why she needed to be vigilant. Raffaele Petri didn’t just have the power to make or break her. He made her crave things that were impossible.

‘You’re paying for the best.’ It had taken her a long time to develop self-confidence about her work and she refused to play coy about something that meant so much. ‘I’m not so needy I require a pat on the head every time I do well.’

If she’d aimed to deflect his attention she’d erred. Instead of backing off, he surveyed her through narrowed eyes.

‘Sometimes it’s not about a pat on the head,’ he murmured. ‘Sometimes people just want my attention.’

Lily looked up into that bright, deliberate gaze, sifting his words.

Seeking attention.

From him.

Why? As soon as she asked the question she had the answer. Because they were attracted to him. Because they wanted him to notice them, respond to them. Just as a tiny, unstoppable part of her had fantasised he might—

She moved so abruptly her chair slid back from the desk, rolling till it crashed into the wall.

Lily found herself standing, her stomach churning so hard she tasted bile. He’d touched too close to her own secret desires and made them seem all the more pathetic. As if he suspected the attraction she couldn’t quell.

Her right hand lifted in that old, compulsive gesture she’d taken years to vanquish. At the last moment, just before her fingers reached her scarred face, she remembered, forcing it back down, planting both palms on her desk. Her hands were damp against the wood, her throat jammed with distress.

It wasn’t just that Raffaele Petri would never find her attractive. No man would.

She was experienced enough to accept that, after several painful experiences where she’d tentatively reached out to a man and had to endure horrified, embarrassed rejection. Yet some foolish part of her still fantasised.

It wasn’t him she was angry with, but herself.

‘You mean they want you to notice them because they’re attracted to you?’ Her voice was raw, stretched tight.

‘It’s been known to happen.’ Again that fluid shrug, but she was beyond noticing how appealing it was. She was too caught up with the burn of shame and self-consciousness.

‘You’re annoyed I haven’t fallen over myself to get your attention?’ She almost choked on the words. Pride was her only lifeline and she clung to it tenaciously. ‘You do realise there are some people who aren’t bowled over by your beauty, Signor Petri?’ Her tone made it clear she was one of them.

If only that were true! Daily exposure to Raffaele Petri had done nothing to inoculate her against his golden good looks. Instead it had given her a respect for his incisive decision-making and his ability to get the best out of his team. She’d discerned fairness and even a self-deprecating humour she found far too appealing.

The sound of laughter sliced her thoughts. Rich and warm, it encircled her like a caress. There was nothing calculated about it, or about his expression, and Lily had the impression that for a moment she saw Raffaele Petri as few did. For, despite his approachability to his staff, he usually exuded a sense of being utterly self-contained.

‘You’re absolutely right, Lily.’ Her pulse gave a throb of pleasure at the sound of her name in that deep, lush voice. ‘And an antidote to my overblown ego. Not everyone finds me attractive. It’s good to know you’re one of them. It makes working together much simpler.’

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.