His money can buy everything…

Except his heir!

Having escaped the streets of Rome, Alessandro runs a multibillion-dollar empire with a control that is world renowned. Yet Mia, his new, forthright executive assistant, threatens that control. And soon their fiery exchanges explode into unrivaled passion!

Mia is wary of trusting others, so when Alessandro coolly dismisses her after their night together, she dares not tell him she’s pregnant! But on learning her secret, he’s determined to legitimize his child. Mia’s priority is her daughter, but can she let Alessandro in when it means risking her heart?

After spending three years as a die-hard New Yorker, KATE HEWITT now lives in a small village in the English Lake District with her husband, their five children and a golden retriever. In addition to writing intensely emotional stories, she loves reading, baking and playing chess with her son—she has yet to win against him, but she continues to try. Learn more about Kate at kate-hewitt.com.

Also by Kate Hewitt

Inherited by Ferranti

Moretti’s Marriage Command

Demetriou Demands His Child

Engaged for Her Enemy’s Heir

The Innocent’s One-Night Surrender

Desert Prince’s Stolen Bride

Princess’s Nine-Month Secret

The Secret Kept from the Italian

Greek’s Baby of Redemption

Claiming My Bride of Convenience

Seduced by a Sheikh miniseries

The Secret Heir of Alazar

The Forced Bride of Alazar

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

The Italian’s Unexpected Baby

Kate Hewitt

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09782-6

THE ITALIAN’S UNEXPECTED BABY

© 2019 Kate Hewitt

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

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

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

‘HE’S COMING!’

Mia James’s stomach clenched unpleasantly as she hurried to stand behind her desk, shoulders back, chin up, heart pounding.

‘He’s in the lift now…’

The numbers above the silver doors glowed, one after another. Two…three…

Mia watched out of the corner of her eye as her fellow colleagues at Dillard Investments did the same as she had, scurrying to desks, standing up straight. They were like schoolchildren awaiting an inspection by the head teacher. A particularly strict and perhaps even cruel head teacher…the notoriously ruthless Alessandro Costa, self-made billionaire and, as of yesterday, the new CEO of Dillard Investments.

Yesterday the company had been taken over by Alessandro Costa in a calculated and clever manoeuvre that had shocked everyone involved in the company right down to their toes, including Mia’s boss and the CEO, Henry Dillard. Poor Henry had looked terribly shaken, aging ten years in a matter of minutes as he realised there was nothing he could do to stop Costa International from gaining controlling shares; it had all happened before he’d even had a chance to realise, Costa stalking the company the way a ruthless predator would a prey.

Four…five… The lift doors pinged open and Mia drew her breath sharply as the new CEO of Dillard Investments stepped through them. She’d seen photos of him online, having done an exhaustive internet search last night when the news had been confirmed that Dillard’s had been taken over. What she’d learned had far from reassured her.

Alessandro Costa specialised in hostile takeovers and then stripping the companies of their assets and employees, to be absorbed into his behemoth of a corporation, Costa International.

A few months ago, he’d taken over a company similar to Dillard’s—small, family-owned, a bit antiquated. Now it was virtually gone, swallowed up by the man who was striding onto the top floor of the building Dillard’s owned in Mayfair.

Mia tried not to make eye contact with Alessandro Costa, but she found she couldn’t stop looking at him. The photos on the internet didn’t do him justice, she realised with an uneasy pang of physical awareness. They didn’t communicate his intense energy, as if a force field surrounded him, as if he crackled.

Cropped dark hair, as black as midnight, framed a face that was all angles and hard lines, from his jaw to his nose to the dark slashes of brows over cold, steel-grey eyes. His body, tall and lethally powerful, was encased in a hand-tailored suit of dark grey silk, the silver tie at his throat matching the colour of his eyes. He made Mia think of a laser, or a sword…something powerful and lethal. A weapon.

He came onto the floor with its open-plan desks with quick, purposeful strides, his narrowed, hawk-like gaze moving in quick yet thorough assessment around the room, pinning people in place. It felt as if the very air trembled. Mia was afraid she did. Alessandro Costa was incredibly intimidating.

She knew everyone’s job was up for grabs, and most likely down the drain as well. In his last takeover, it had been rumoured that Costa had kept three employees out of forty. As personal assistant to the CEO, Mia knew her position would almost certainly be cut. Costa undoubtedly had his own executive assistant already in place, and as he didn’t seem likely to keep Dillard’s going as a separate entity, her job had most likely become obsolete last night, with the takeover.

Still, she was determined to try to do something to keep it. She’d been working for Dillard Investments since she was nineteen, fresh from a B Tech business course, bright-eyed and determined to make something of herself and, most importantly, to finally be independent.

All her childhood she’d been under the controlling thumb of her unbearably autocratic father, having to do as he said and dance to his tune, however discordant its notes. Her mother had been the same, cringing and hopeful in dispiriting turns, and Mia had vowed to gain her freedom as soon as she could—and never make the same kind of mistake her mother had, by marrying a charming yet controlling man…or any man at all.

So now, while Mia knew she could find another job, she resisted the prospect of being fired from this one for no good reason. She’d been here a long time, had worked hard, and had made a few friends along the way.

She might be likely to lose her job anyway, but she’d go down fighting. She had to, as points of both pride and principle.

Alessandro Costa had stopped in the centre of the room, his feet spread wide, his hands on his hips. He looked like the king of an empire, surveying his domain. Like something out of a fairy tale, except in a three-piece suit.

‘Who is Mia James?’ he asked, his voice slightly accented, the words crisp and precise as they echoed through the open space.

Mia felt every eye on the floor turn instinctively towards her. Like a child in school being called on by a teacher, she raised her hand, hoping her voice would come out strong.

‘I am.’ She might have overshot it, she realised; she sounded strident. Aggressive, even, to hide her nervousness.

Alessandro Costa’s eyes narrowed even further in appraisal, and his lips flattened into a hard line.

‘Come with me,’ he said, and walked into Henry Dillard’s office, the only private space on the floor, an elegant room with wood panelled walls and leather club chairs, tasteful oil paintings and heavy curtains. It felt like a gentleman’s club, or the study of an elegant townhouse, which it very well might once have been. Dillard’s offices were in a former home, although much of it had been gutted for desk space.

Costa strode towards the big, mahogany desk, inlaid with leather, that Henry had always sat behind while Mia had taken notes or dictation. Henry had been eccentrically old school; he’d only bought a laptop a few years ago, and he’d still depended on Mia to manage emails and spreadsheets, finding both quite beyond him, and not seeming to mind.

It gave her a pang now to think that was all over; Henry had retreated to his estate in Surrey, and Mia half wondered if she’d ever see him again. Last night, as he’d shuffled out of the office, his business in ruins around him, he’d seemed like an old, broken man, and it had wrung her heart right out. And it was this man’s fault.

Alessandro Costa stood behind Henry’s old desk, his hands placed flat on its surface, fingers spread wide, as he stared at her, his eyes magnetic, his body radiating barely suppressed energy. Although his expression was focused, it wasn’t unfriendly. He looked like a man intent on action, and it made Mia tense, something in her kicking up a notch, ready to respond.

‘I need you.’ Costa spoke the words matter-of-factly, but stupidly they made Mia’s heart skip a silly beat. He didn’t mean in that way, of course he didn’t. But perhaps he meant she might keep her job…

‘You…do?’

‘Yes, for the moment, at least.’ Costa straightened, his gaze surveying her with cool appraisal. ‘You’ve been Dillard’s PA for how long?’

‘Seven years.’

He nodded slowly. ‘And, as far as I can see, you were the plug on his life support.’

Mia blinked, absorbing the cruel bluntness of that statement. ‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ she said quietly, although admittedly there was some truth in it. In reality, Henry Dillard would have been happy playing golf and letting the company his father had founded dwindle away to nothing. The company had been ripe for a takeover, even if he hadn’t seen it himself, and Mia had never let herself consider such a possibility.

‘Perhaps that’s a bit harsh,’ Costa allowed, ‘but Dillard himself admitted he was behind the times. Of course, many of his clients are, as well.’

‘Which begs the question why you took it over,’ Mia returned. Costa’s eyebrows rose as he kept her gaze, and something sparked to life in Mia, something she most certainly wasn’t going to acknowledge.

‘Yes, it does, doesn’t it?’ he remarked. ‘Fortunately that is not something you need to concern yourself with.’

And that was her, put firmly in her place. ‘Very well.’ She met his narrowed, steely gaze unflinchingly, although it cost her. Every time she looked at him she felt something in her spark and tingle in a way she definitely didn’t like. The man was intense and a little scary, but there was something that drew her to him as well—something in his fierce energy, his incredible focus. ‘So why do you need me?’ she asked, deciding that keeping things on track was her best bet.

‘I need you because I require your knowledge of Henry’s clients so I can deal with them appropriately. So as long as you prove useful…’

Which sounded like a barely veiled threat, or perhaps just a statement of fact. Mia couldn’t imagine Alessandro Costa putting up with anyone who wasn’t useful.

‘And when I don’t prove useful?’ she asked, although she had a feeling she didn’t want to know the answer.

‘Then you’ll be let go,’ Costa said bluntly. ‘I don’t keep useless employees. It’s bad business practice.’

‘What about the rest of the staff?’

‘Again, none of your concern.’

Wow. The man had no hesitation in being blunt, yet Mia didn’t sense any cruel relish in his words, just simple bare statements of fact, which she could appreciate, even if she didn’t like them.

In any case, needlessly sparring with Alessandro Costa was a fast track to being fired, and she wanted to keep her job. She needed to keep her job. It felt like the only thing she had.

‘All right.’ She straightened, tipping her chin up, determined to stay professional and match his focus. ‘What would you like me to do?’

Something silver flashed in Alessandro’s grey eyes; it almost looked like approval, and it made a ripple of pleased awareness race through her, treacherous and molten, racing through her fingers and down to her toes. ‘I want files on all of Dillard’s major clients, with notes about any potential quirks, habits, tendencies, or any other pertinent information within the hour. We’ll talk through it all then.’

‘All right.’ Mia thought she could manage that, if only just.

‘Good.’ Without another word, Alessandro Costa strode out of the office, closing the door firmly behind him.

Mia let out a gusty breath and then, on watery legs, she sank into a chair in front of the desk. Now that he was gone, she realised afresh how much energy Costa drew from her, how much adrenalin he stirred up so her heart still pounded and her head felt light. Talking with him had felt like a full mental and physical workout. Ten minutes of it and she was, strangely, both exhausted and energised.

She was also…affected. The man’s forceful personality was only part of his intense charisma; she’d felt as if she couldn’t look away from him—the eyes that almost glowed, the barely leashed energy that radiated from him, the power that was evident in every taut line of his body. Even now she breathed in the faint scent of his aftershave, something with sandalwood in it, and she felt the urge to tremble. Thankfully, she didn’t.

On still shaky legs Mia rose from her chair. She needed to show Alessandro Costa she was oh-so-useful, and more than that, she was necessary. Essential, even. Because she wasn’t ready to contemplate the alternative.

Quickly Mia left Henry’s old office and went to her desk immediately outside of it. The crowds that had been waiting for Alessandro Costa’s arrival had dispersed, and people were back at their desks, attempting to at least seem as if they were working.

Alessandro was nowhere to be seen, and Mia wondered what he was doing. Inspecting the ranks? Firing someone? If the rumours were true, he’d fire most of Dillard’s staff, just as he had countless other times, something she couldn’t bear to think about. She had to focus. She had a job to do.

Dillard Investments was even more of a sorry mess than he’d realised. After a morning of meeting employees and assessing the company’s condition, Alessandro Costa felt nothing but a scathing derision for Henry Dillard, a man whose affable exterior hid a terrible weakness—a weakness that had caused the inevitable loss of his company, his clients’ assets, and the well-being of his employees. The man had the appearance of a lovable teddy bear, but Alessandro was glad he’d put an end to his benevolent ineptitude.

By refusing to keep up with the times and seek out new opportunities and investments, Henry Dillard had been slowly, or not so slowly, running his company as well as his clients’ portfolios into the red, content to live off his dwindling profits and focus on his golf game. If Alessandro hadn’t taken over the company, someone else surely would have.

Better, though, that it was him. This was his field of expertise, after all, and what he’d made his life’s mission: taking over failing or corrupt companies and turning them into something useful, or else dismantling them completely.

As Alessandro knew and had seen, over and over again, the opportunity of defeating the enemy lay within the enemy himself…discovering his weaknesses and finding his vulnerabilities. It was a concept from Sun Tzu’s The Art of War, and what Alessandro had learned long ago was that not only was business war, but life was war, a battle fought every day, and he had the scars to prove it. Yes, life was war… And he was in it to win.

At least a third of the employees he’d met with today would have to be fired. It seemed as if Dillard had never let anyone go, whether out of sentimentality, stupidity, or just sheer laziness Alessandro didn’t know or particularly care.

He always tried to keep redundancies to a minimum, preferring to transfer people to other positions within his portfolio of companies, but many of the staff he’d met here clearly didn’t deserve such an opportunity. Dillard’s PA, Mia James, being a notable exception…

Surprisingly, reluctantly, Alessandro had been intrigued by her. She was beautiful in a very boring, very English way—straight blonde hair, cornflower blue eyes, a clear, healthy complexion, a tall and athletic figure, without any noticeable curves. Competent…in every way, and not the kind of woman that usually sparked his sensual interest.

She was the kind of woman, Alessandro reflected, who had probably been captain of her hockey team at school, who hiked on weekends and had had crushes on horses rather than boys growing up. Who would marry a suitable man and have the requisite two children, a boy and a girl. No one, clearly, whom he would let himself be interested in, much less pursue.

Yet she’d intrigued him. And he didn’t like to be intrigued, especially not by a PA whom he would most likely transfer as soon as possible, because he worked best alone. Always had, always would, in every way possible. That was the only way he knew how to conduct his life, learned in childhood and honed to a highly polished skill in adulthood, and he didn’t see it changing. Ever.

Mia James was waiting for him in Dillard’s office when he walked in an hour after he’d last seen her, to the minute. Alessandro always kept to time, kept his word. Stayed in control, even in such seemingly small, incidental matters, as a point of principle, a matter of pride.

‘Well?’ he asked. ‘Do you have the files?’

She’d risen from her chair as he’d entered, making him notice, rather unwillingly, her long, slender legs encased in sheer black tights, her feet in low black heels. She wore a black pencil skirt and blazer, a crisp white blouse, a simple gold pendant at her throat. Her long, wheat-coloured hair was caught cleanly behind in a clip. He could not fault anything about her, and yet he still felt discomfited. Irritated, even, by his own interest as much as her presence.

He didn’t let people affect him. He didn’t do emotions, and he most definitely didn’t act on them. His own unsettled childhood was testament to the power of emotions, as well as the danger, which was why he behaved in a tightly controlled way that made sense. Because Alessandro Costa needed to be in control. Always.

‘I have everything right here,’ Mia said, her voice calm and cool. Unflappable, unlike how he was feeling, which annoyed him further. ‘Personal files and relevant information on Dillard’s ten most important clients.’

‘And how did you determine they were the most important?’ Alessandro asked, his voice something close to a snap.

Her clear blue gaze met his; she seemed untroubled by his tone. ‘They are the largest investors, and they’ve been with Dillard’s the longest amount of time.’

‘Everyone’s been with Dillard’s since the time of dinosaurs,’ Alessandro returned, his irritation making him more callous than he normally would have let himself be. ‘That’s the nature of the place.’

‘Dillard’s longevity is one of its points of pride,’ Mia agreed, her voice—and what a low, pleasant voice it was—carefully equable. She would not rise to his irritable bait. Another point in her favour, yet unreasonably this just annoyed him further.

He sprawled in the chair behind the desk, beckoning her forward with one hand. ‘So show me.’

Mia hesitated for the barest of seconds—hardly noticeable except Alessandro felt so weirdly attuned to her—and then she scooped up the pile of folders and walked around to his side of the desk, placing them in front of him and then flipping the first one open.

‘James Davis, a millionaire who set up his own company to manage his financial interests. Inherited money. Generous to a fault. Affable and easy-going but very little common sense. Happy to follow a lead, generally speaking.’

Alessandro was silent, reluctantly impressed by how quickly and clearly she’d summed up the client. Given him all the relevant information, without anything unnecessary, exactly as he would have wanted. So few people impressed him, but Mia James had. In more ways than one.

He glanced down at the top sheet detailing the man’s investments but the figures blurred in front of him as he inhaled Mia James’s scent—something understated and citrusy. She was standing quite close to him, her breasts on a level with his gaze. Not that he was looking, but he did notice how the crisp white cotton with discreet pin tucks highlighted her trim figure. Perhaps curves were overrated.

What was he thinking?

Now seriously annoyed with himself and his unruly thoughts, Alessandro flipped through the pages, skimming all the relevant details with more focus than usual. ‘He’s operating at a loss,’ he observed after a moment.

‘Yes.’ Another tiny hesitation. ‘Many of Dillard’s clients are, in the current financial climate. Henry—Mr Dillard—was confident things would bounce back, or at least even out, in the next eighteen months.’

When he would have been retired, with no need to worry about the financial markets or how they were affecting his clients. Alessandro had spoken to Henry Dillard on the phone yesterday, when the takeover had been complete. He always tried to treat his adversaries with dignity, especially when he’d won, which he always did.

Dillard had been furious to be bested by someone he considered his social inferior—and had made that quite clear. Alessandro had taken it in his stride; it was hardly unusual when he chose to target companies run by men like Henry Dillard—entitled, wealthy, and weak. He almost felt sorry for the man; he hadn’t been corrupt, like some of the CEOs Alessandro had taken down, just inept. He’d frittered away his family’s company, indifferent to his clients’ needs, and now he was angry that someone he didn’t think deserved his company had won it fairly. Alessandro had no respect for such people. He’d dealt with too many in his life—first as a child, when he’d had no power, and then as a man, when he’d made sure that he did.

‘Eighteen months is a lifetime in the stock market,’ he told Mia. ‘Henry Dillard should have known that.’

Mia drew a quick breath. ‘As I said, longevity—’

‘Was one of Dillard’s assets. It isn’t any more.’ He swivelled to face her, tilting his head up to meet her blue, blue eyes. As their gazes met and tangled something clanged inside him, like an almighty bell. He felt it reverberate through his whole body, and he thought Mia did as well, judging from the way her pupils dilated, and she moistened her lips with her tongue.

‘Sit down,’ he ordered, and surprise flared briefly in her eyes before she complied silently, taking the seat across from him, so the desk was between them.

That was better. Now he wouldn’t be distracted. He wouldn’t let himself.

‘Next, please,’ he ordered, and calmly Mia took him through the rest of the clients—all of them old money, with an outdated view of investment, wealth, risk, everything. Dillard Investments was an institution that had lazily rested on its well-worn laurels for far too long…which was exactly why Alessandro had bought it.

Finished with the files, he glanced at Mia, who was sitting perfectly straight in her seat, legs to the side, ankles neatly crossed, her expression deliberately serene. She looked like a duchess. It annoyed Alessandro, as everything about her seemed to, which was a reaction he knew didn’t make sense, and yet it was. It was, because he’d much rather be annoyed by her than affected. Which he also was. Unfortunately.

‘Thank you for this,’ he finally said, his voice clipped.

‘Will there be anything else?’

‘How well do you know Dillard’s clients?’

Surprise rippled across the placid expression on her face, like wind on water, and then she gave a tiny shrug. ‘Fairly well, I suppose.’

‘Do you interact with them often?’

‘When they visit the office, yes. I chat with them, give them coffee, that sort of thing.’ She paused, her gaze scanning his face, looking for clues as to what he wanted from her. ‘I’ve also organised the annual summer party for clients and their families, held at Mr Dillard’s estate in Surrey, every year.’

‘You have?’ He would have expected Dillard to hire an event planner for such a high-profile event, but perhaps he was too indifferent even for that. ‘That must have been quite time consuming.’

‘Yes, but rewarding. I enjoy meeting and seeing the families. I’ve become friends with some of them, in a professional capacity only, of course. But after seven years, I believe I can say that I know many of them quite well.’

Alessandro could picture it—Mia circulating quietly through the crowds, always at the ready to help, providing whatever was needed—a tissue, a glass of champagne, a shoulder to cry on. Learning the secrets and weaknesses of Dillard’s clients and their families, as well as their strengths.

Which made Mia James invaluable…for now. She could help him to get to know Dillard’s clients, so he could make a more informed decision about which to pursue or keep.

‘So,’ Mia asked as he continued to stare at her, his mind clicking over, ‘was there anything else you needed?’

‘Yes,’ Alessandro stated as realisation unfurled and then crystallised inside him. ‘Your attendance at a charity gala with me tonight.’

CHAPTER TWO

MIA STARED AT Alessandro’s determined, unyielding expression, registering the iron in his eyes, the laser-like focus of his gaze, and tried to make sense of his request.

‘Pardon?’ she finally said, wishing she didn’t feel wrong-footed by his invitation. She’d been doing her best to be the perfect, unflappable PA since he’d stormed into the office, practically vibrating with energy. At moments like this it felt like no more than a flimsy façade.

‘A charity gala at the Ritz,’ Alessandro clarified, his voice now very slightly edged with impatience, as if she wasn’t catching on quickly enough. ‘Many of Dillard’s clients will be there. I’m attending to reassure them of their assets’ safety. You will attend with me.’

A command, then, and one she couldn’t afford to disobey. Still, Mia’s mind whirled. She’d never attended such a highbrow function, and in what capacity? As his PA? As his date?

No, of course not. She was mad to think that way even for a second, and yet somehow the way he’d said ‘with me’ had felt…

Possessive. As if he were staking his claim on her, branding her with his words.

But of course that wasn’t what he meant. The prospect horrified her, and would undoubtedly horrify him even more. Alessandro Costa most certainly didn’t think of her like that. And she most certainly didn’t want him to.

But why did he need her at such an event? When she’d been Henry Dillard’s PA, she’d always had a quiet, unnoticeable presence. Invisible on purpose, gliding through the shadows. She’d attended the summer party, yes, but only as the organiser, slipping quietly behind the scenes, doing her best to be both indispensable and out of the way.

She’d never gone to any other of Henry’s many social functions—the balls and cocktail parties, fundraisers and expensive, boozy dinners in Michelin-starred restaurants. Of course she hadn’t.

‘I’m not sure…’ she began, and then stopped, because she wasn’t sure what she was trying to say. That she wasn’t the kind of person he should ask? That she didn’t normally go to these events? That she’d be out of her depth? All three, but the last thing she wanted to do was admit her weakness or unsuitability. Alessandro Costa seemed as if he was simply waiting for her to give him one good reason to fire her, and she was determined not to humour him in that regard.

‘You’re not sure…?’ he prompted, an edge to his voice, as if he was daring her.

Mia lifted her chin. ‘When is the gala?’

The tiniest smile quirked the corner of his mouth, electrifying her. The man was devastating already, but heaven help her if he smiled. His eyes turned to silver and Mia’s insides turned molten. She swallowed audibly and kept her chin up.

‘Seven o’clock.’

Mia’s mind raced. It was undoubtedly a black-tie event, formal wear absolutely necessary, and her only appropriate outfit was a basic and rather boring black cocktail dress, back at her flat in Wimbledon. It would take nearly an hour to get there, and then back again…

‘What is it?’ Alessandro demanded, now definitely starting to sound annoyed. ‘Why are you looking like this won’t be possible, when I can assure you it is?’

‘No reason,’ Mia said quickly. She’d manage. Somehow she’d manage. ‘I’ll be ready at seven.’

‘Six forty-five,’ Alessandro returned. ‘On the dot. I like to be punctual.’

Back at her desk Mia couldn’t concentrate on anything, not that there was very much for her to do. Like everyone else she was in limbo, waiting to find out how Alessandro Costa decided to handle his new acquisition, and whether they would have jobs come morning.

A few minutes after she’d left the office, Alessandro strode out of it, without sparing her a single glance. As he stepped into the lift, she tried not to notice how the expensive material of his suit stretched across his shoulders, or his dark hair gleamed blue-black in the light. She certainly wasn’t going to remember that twang of energy that she’d felt reverberate between them when she’d been standing close enough to inhale the heady scent of his aftershave. No, definitely not noticing any of those things. In fact, she decided, now was as good a time as any to go back to her flat and fetch her dress.

Her heart tumbled in her chest as she grabbed her handbag and headed out, half afraid of running into Alessandro and having to bear the brunt of his ire. It was lunchtime, so she had a reason to be leaving the office, but she still felt nervous about crossing or irritating him in any way. Her job, she acknowledged grimly, was in a very precarious place, no matter how useful she seemed to him at the moment.

An hour and a half later, Mia was breathlessly hurrying back into the office, her dress and shoes clutched in a bag to her chest. As the lift doors slid open, she stepped inside—and smack into Alessandro Costa.

The breath left her chest with a startling whoosh, and she would have stumbled had Alessandro not clamped his hands on her shoulders to steady her. For a heart-stopping second his nearness overwhelmed her, the heat and power rolling off him in intoxicating waves. Her mind blurred and then blanked, her palms flat on his very well-muscled chest, fingers stretching instinctively as if to feel more of him. She could not think of a single thing to say. She couldn’t even move, conscious only of his powerful, hard body so very near to hers. If she so much as swayed their hips would actually brush…

Then Alessandro released her, stepping back, his mouth compressed in a hard line as he raked her with a single, scathing glance. ‘Where have you been?’

‘I’m sorry, were you looking for me?’

‘I wanted the files on Dillard’s less impressive clients. Did you think I’d be satisfied with only the top ten?’ Even for him, he sounded on edge, his body taut with barely suppressed tension.

‘I’m sorry, I was at lunch.’

‘For an hour and a half?’

Mia shook her head, a flush fighting its way up her throat and across her face. She’d been afraid of this exact scenario, and now that it was a reality she couldn’t handle it. He was still standing so close, and every time she took a breath she inhaled the aroma of his aftershave, felt his heat. ‘No, of course not.’ She drew herself up, holding onto the last threads of her composure. She could do this. She needed to do this. ‘If you must know, I went back to my flat to find a dress to wear this evening. But I will have the other files to you shortly, I promise.’

Alessandro stared at her for another agonising moment before he gave a brief, terse nod. ‘Very well. I expect files on all the other clients within the hour. Exactly.’

Mia had no doubt he’d been timing her to the second. The man was a stickler for detail…among other things. Back at her desk she hung her dress up on the back of a door and hurried to amass the files Alessandro had demanded. She’d be hard-pressed to do it in an hour, but she was determined to show Alessandro she could.

Fingers flying, mind racing, she managed to assemble everything and jot down relevant notes, stepping into Henry’s—now Alessandro’s—office with one minute to spare. Alessandro glanced at his watch as she stepped through the doors, and then one of his faint smiles quirked his mouth for no more than a second, making her catch her breath.

Heaven help her.

‘Impressive,’ he said after a moment, sounding both amused and reluctantly admiring. ‘I didn’t think you could do it in an hour.’

‘You underestimate me, Mr Costa.’

His gaze lingered on her, and Mia felt her body start to tingle and hum. ‘Maybe I do,’ he murmured, and held out his hand for the files.

Mia handed them to him, and then took him through each one, making sure to sit on the other side of the desk as he’d requested before.

It was surely better for her to have a little distance between them; being near him had the troubling side-effect of short-circuiting her brain. She didn’t know whether it was his intimidating presence, his undeniable charisma, or the unavoidable fact of his outrageously good looks that turned her mind to slush, but something about him did, and that was definitely not a good reaction to have to her boss, or even to anyone. Mia never wanted another person to have any power over her—not physical, not emotional, and certainly not sensual. Just thinking about it made goose-pimples rise on her flesh. Alessandro certainly had the last one…if she let him.

‘Is there anything else you need?’ she asked once they’d gone through all the files, her body tense from holding herself apart and doing her utmost not to notice the powerful muscles of his forearms when he’d rolled up his shirtsleeves, or the stubble now glinting on the hard line of his jaw. No, she was definitely not noticing anything like that.

‘Yes,’ Alessandro told her shortly. ‘Show me your dress.’

Her mouth dropped open before she snapped it shut. ‘My…dress?’

‘Yes, your dress. I want to make sure it is suitable. As my companion, how you look is important.’

‘Your companion…’ Her mind spun emptily again. Surely he wasn’t suggesting…?

‘We are attending together,’ Alessandro clarified pointedly, as if to highlight the utter impossibility of whatever she might have been thinking. ‘You must be suitably attired. Now show me the dress.’

Wordlessly Mia rose from her seat. She had no idea what Alessandro Costa considered suitably attired, but she had a feeling her plain black cocktail dress, bought from the bargain rack, wasn’t going to be it. Unless he wanted her to be discreet, even invisible, as Henry Dillard had? As she was used to being from childhood, slipping in and out of the shadows, trying not to draw attention to herself, in case she provoked her father’s anger? Because in all truth she wasn’t sure she knew how to be anything else.

She grabbed the dress and returned to the office, holding it in front of her. ‘Will this do?’ she asked, unable to keep the faintest tremble from her voice. She’d never had her boss vet her clothing choices before, and she didn’t like it. She certainly didn’t like feeling controlled, even in as small a matter as this. She’d had enough of that in her life, and she didn’t want or need any more, not even by the boss whose good side she was trying to stay on.

‘You intended to wear that?’ Alessandro sounded both scandalised and completely derisive. ‘Did you want to be mistaken for one of the serving staff?’

Mia’s chin went up. ‘It’s perfectly appropriate.’

‘It’s perfectly dreadful, like something a junior secretary would wear to the office Christmas party.’

She had worn it to such a party, and so Mia did not deign to reply to his remark. Alessandro might be offensively blunt, but there was more perception and truth to his remarks than she wanted to acknowledge.

‘You can’t wear it,’ he stated. ‘You won’t.’

‘I don’t have anything else,’ Mia returned. ‘So if you wish for me to attend…’

‘Then I will make sure you do have something.’ He slid his phone out of his pocket. ‘I will not have you on my arm looking like Cinderella still in her rags.’

‘So you’ll be my fairy godmother?’ Mia quipped before she could attempt a more measured reply. What was it about this man that made her hackles rise, everything in her resist? Henry Dillard had certainly never made her respond like this, but then Henry Dillard had never spoken to her in such an arrogant, autocratic way. He’d been affably incompetent, content to let her organise everything.

Alessandro’s eyes gleamed like molten silver as his mouth quirked the tiniest bit, making her respond to him. Again. A very inconvenient response, when her stomach fizzed and her heart leapt. Mia was determined to ignore it. ‘Now, that is the first time anyone has called me that,’ he said, his mouth curving deeper, and Mia forced herself to look away.

Alessandro angled his body away from Mia as he spoke into the phone, asking for a personal stylist to be brought to the office immediately. His right-hand man, Luca, took the rather unexpected request in his stride.

Ending the call, Alessandro turned back to face Mia, trying not to notice the rise and fall of her chest with every agitated breath she took; clearly she didn’t like him deciding what she should wear, although she should be thankful he’d vetted her selection. That black bag of a dress looked cheap and boring and was hardly what he needed his companion for the evening to turn up in.

‘As your PA, I don’t see why I need to wear some fancy dress,’ Mia said, clearly striving to moderate her tone. ‘Or, in fact, why I need to attend this gala at all. It’s highly unusual…’

‘You need to attend because many of the guests there will be Dillard’s clients,’ Alessandro answered. ‘And you will know them better than I do. I require your knowledge in this matter.’

‘Still…’

‘And you need to wear a gown worthy of the occasion,’ Alessandro cut across her. He didn’t like her protestations; he was used to being obeyed instantly, and Mia James seemed not to have realised that.

‘The clients will know I’m Henry’s PA,’ she protested. ‘If I dress up like a proper guest, they’ll think I’m putting on airs—’

‘You are my PA now, and you are my guest,’ Alessandro returned. ‘You will wear an appropriate gown. I am sure there will be something you fancy from the selection provided.’ He gave her a quelling look. ‘Most women I know would be thrilled to have such an opportunity of choice.’

‘Somehow I don’t think I’m like most women you know,’ Mia returned tartly, making him smile.

‘That is very true. Even so, I would like you to pick a dress that is suitable.’

Mia nodded, setting her jaw, her eyes sparking like bits of blue ice. ‘Very well,’ she said, sounding far from pleased about the matter. Despite the difficulties of the situation, Alessandro would have thought she’d enjoy the opportunity to select a new gown.

‘The stylist will be here shortly,’ he told her. ‘Until then you may return to your work.’

With a brief, brisk nod Mia swivelled on her heel and walked out of the office, closing the door behind her with a firm click that was halfway to becoming a slam. It annoyed and amused Alessandro in equal measure. Normally he didn’t like people to oppose him; in fact, he hated any sign of disobedience or disrespect.

As he was a man of both drive and focus, work was a well-oiled machine and rebelliousness was inefficient as well as time-consuming. And, while Mia’s rebelliousness did annoy him, that contrary spark of defiance somehow…enflamed him.

The knowledge rested uncomfortably with him. He was attracted to her, he acknowledged starkly, and that was something he most certainly could and would control. There was no place for attraction within the workplace, and self-control had always been his personal creed, the way he lived his life. The way he stayed on top.

He would never, ever be like his mother, whose sorry life had been tossed on the waves of other people’s whims, her poverty and powerlessness making her constantly vulnerable, searching for love and meaning in shabby, shallow relationships.

Alessandro would never be like that…never at another person’s mercy…not even for the sake of a very inconvenient desire.

Still, he was uncomfortably aware of the simple fact of his attraction, as well as the realisation that his desire to see Mia attired in an appropriate gown was not quite as professional and expedient as he’d made it seem.

As she’d pointed out herself, she was known as Dillard’s PA and a simple, serviceable dress would certainly have been adequate. Yet he hadn’t wanted to see his date in something resembling a bin bag. He hadn’t wanted to see Mia in it.

Still, he told himself, he needed to make the right impression tonight. The last thing he wanted was for people to look at him and think that an impostor had shown up along with his secretary. Because Alessandro had earned the right to be at the party, just as he’d earned the right to be sitting in the office. Just as he’d earned everything he had, fighting for it and winning it, time and time again, a man with a mission. A man who won.

A few minutes later Luca texted him that the stylist had arrived, and Alessandro rose to find Mia. She was at her desk, and as he came to stand behind her, glancing at the screen of her laptop, a cold wave of displeasure and shock rippled through him.

‘You’re working on your CV?’

She swivelled sharply in her chair, her eyes widening with alarm at the sight of him looking at the screen, but when she spoke her voice was cool. ‘For when I’m no longer useful.’

‘And that is not now.’ With one brisk movement Alessandro clicked the mouse to close the document, without saving any changes. Mia’s mouth compressed but she did not protest against his action. ‘The stylist is here. You may use my office.’

Mia’s eyes flashed and he wondered what she objected to—his dismissal of her dress, or his order for a new one? Or simply his manner, which was even more autocratic than usual, because it felt like the best defence against this irritating and inconvenient attraction that simmered beneath the surface, threatening to bubble up?

Even now he found himself sneaking looks at the tantalising vee of ivory skin visible at the all too modest neck of her blouse, and noting the soft curve of her jaw, and the way a wisp of golden hair had fallen against her cheek. He itched to tuck it behind her ear, let his fingers skim to her lobe, a prospect which was too bizarre to be entertained even for a second.

He didn’t want to do things like that. Ever. Relationships were not on his radar, and sex was nothing more than a physical urge to be sated like any other. He’d always been able to find women who were agreeable to his terms. More than agreeable, so why was he feeling this strange way about Mia James?

He wasn’t. Or at least he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t let himself. Work was too important to risk for a moment’s satisfaction, even with someone as annoyingly beguiling as the woman in front of him.

‘Are you coming?’ he asked tersely, and she nodded, rising from her seat with unconscious elegance, following him with a graceful, long-legged stride. Alessandro found himself watching the gentle sway of her hips before he resolutely turned his gaze away.

A few minutes later the stylist arrived with a flurry of plastic-swathed hangers, an assistant behind her carrying several boxes and bags. Alessandro supervised their setting up before he decided to leave Mia to it.

‘Let me see your final choice,’ he instructed, and she arched one golden eyebrow.

‘To approve it?’

‘Of course.’ That was the point of this whole exercise, was it not? Still, he decided to temper his reply, for her benefit. ‘Thank you for attending to this matter.’

She pressed her lips together. ‘It’s not as if I had much choice.’

Alessandro frowned. ‘I’m offering you a dress. Is that so objectionable?’

‘It’s not the dress and you know it,’ she snapped, and surprisingly, he let out a laugh.

‘No, I suppose not.’

‘It’s your entire manner,’ she emphasised, and he nodded.

‘Yes, I realise,’ he said dryly. ‘So at least we’re in agreement about something.’

For the next few hours he found he could not concentrate on the business at hand, a fact which annoyed him as much as everything else about Mia James had done. What was it about the woman that got under his skin, burrowed deep inside? Was it simply her attractiveness, which was undeniable, or something else? The hint of defiance in the set of her shoulders, the surprising vulnerability he sensed beneath the surface? Why on earth did he care?

It was annoying. It was alarming. And it had to stop.

‘Mr Costa?’ The stylist’s fluttering voice interrupted his unruly thoughts; he’d been staring at his laptop screen for who knew how long? ‘Miss James has selected her dress and is ready for you to see it.’

‘Thank you.’ He rose and walked quickly to the office, steeling himself for whatever he was to see. Despite his best intention to remain utterly unmoved, he was still shocked by the sight of her, her slender body swathed in an ice-blue gown of ruched silk that hugged her figure before flaring out around her ankles in a decadent display of iridescent, shimmering material. Instead of back in a sedate clip, her hair was twisted into an elegant chignon. Diamonds sparkled at her ears and throat. She looked like a Norse goddess, an ice queen, everything about her coolly beautiful, icily intoxicating.

Desire crashed over him in an overwhelming wave, unexpected even now in its intensity and force. He wanted to pluck the diamond-tipped pins from her hair. He wanted to tug on the discreet zip in the back of her dress, and count the sharp knobs of her vertebrae, taste the smooth silkiness of her skin.

He wanted. And he never let himself want.

‘Well?’ Mia asked, her voice taut. ‘Will I pass?’

‘Yes,’ he answered after another beat of tense silence, barely managing to get the word out. ‘You’ll pass.’

She let out a huff of sound, turning away from him, and the stylist’s face fell a little bit at his damningly faint praise. Alessandro didn’t care. Already he was regretting his command to have Mia accompany him tonight. Already he was looking forward to it far more than he should.

‘I’ll go and change myself,’ he said when a few seconds had ticked by without anyone saying a word. ‘Be ready to leave in ten minutes.’

Mia nodded, not quite looking at him, and again Alessandro was captivated by the curve of her jaw, the hollow of her throat, the dip of her waist, each one begging to be explored and savoured. He turned away quickly, striding out of the office without another word.

The sooner this evening was over, the better. This desire he felt was inconvenient and overwhelming and very much unwanted. But, like everything else in his life, he would control it. It would just take a little more effort than he’d anticipated.

CHAPTER THREE

MIA FELT AS if she’d fallen down a rabbit hole into some strange, charmed alternative reality…a reality where she rode in limousines, and drank champagne, and walked into a glittering ballroom on the arm of the most handsome man there.

Of course, as PA to Henry Dillard she’d ridden in plenty of limousines. She’d drunk more than enough champagne. But it had always been as an employee, someone to serve and be invisible while she was at it. Someone to make sure the champagne was flowing, and that the limousine arrived on time. Someone who didn’t stride into parties, but sidled along the sidelines, checking that everything was going according to plan and keeping out of the way.

Tonight was entirely different. Tonight, much to her own amazement, she felt like the belle of the ball. It was beyond bizarre. It was also intoxicating, far more than any champagne she might quaff.

It had started with the stylist bringing out several exquisite dresses for Mia to choose from, and then doing her hair and make-up as well, before finishing off her incredible ensemble with the most beautiful diamond earrings and necklace Mia had ever seen.

As someone who had prided herself on always being smart and sensible, no-nonsense and pragmatic, it had felt to her as decadent as an endless dark chocolate sundae to be so pampered and primped. She hadn’t expected to enjoy it; she’d been fully intent on chafing at every opportunity, resenting Alessandro’s needless autocratic intervention, but then…she hadn’t.

She’d submitted to the stylist’s every instruction, and then she’d started to enjoy it. To relish it. Part of her was horrified by her own acquiescence, and what it might mean. And yet…it was one night. One magical night after a lifetime of having her head down, working hard. Why shouldn’t she enjoy it?

At some point she’d let her mind slide into a comforting sort of blurry nothingness, floating on a sea of ease and comfort. As she usually tried to anticipate every possibility, consider every choice, it felt wonderfully relaxing not to overthink this. She wasn’t going to wonder what Alessandro Costa wanted with her, or with Dillard Investments, or whether her job, not to mention any of her friends’, was secure. She was just going to enjoy a night like no other, because she doubted she’d see another one like it, and that was fine.

And then the moment when Alessandro had come into the room and looked her over…that moment had felt as if the world was tilting on its axis, as if everything was sliding away from the comforting security of its anchor even as it came into glittering focus.

For that one second Mia had seen a flash of masculine approval blaze in his eyes like golden fire and it had ignited her right through, as her blood heated and fizzed and her mind spun out possibilities she’d never dared to dream of.

Then he’d told her she’d pass, his voice as laconic as ever, and she’d wondered if she’d imagined it. She must have. This was Alessandro Costa, after all. The ruthless, arrogant CEO she was a little bit scared of. Not a man interested in her. Not her date.

It just felt as if he were. And, more alarmingly, she liked that feeling. She, who had steered clear of love and romance and even anything close to a flirtation, because she did not want someone to have that kind of power over her. Because her mother had fallen in love with her father all those years ago, and look how that had gone.

‘He loves me, Mia. Really. He just has trouble showing it.’

Mia had listened to far too many of her mother’s excuses before she’d died of cancer when Mia was fourteen, too broken and despairing to hold on any longer. Mia had had to wait four more years before she was finally free of her father’s sneering control. And since then she’d made it her life’s mission to stay strong, independent and alone. Safe.

But tonight she let her rules bend and even break. Tonight she let herself forget they existed. It was just a night, after all. Just one wonderful night where she could pretend, for a few hours, that she was a young woman with a gorgeous man, Cinderella with her prince before the clock inevitably struck midnight.

They’d ridden in a limousine to the Ritz, and Alessandro, devastating in black tie, his hair midnight-dark and his hard jaw freshly shaven, had barely said a word, which was fine by Mia because she could barely think. Dressed to the nines and even the tens in a gorgeous gown, on the arm of a beautiful man…going to the kind of party where she’d normally be holding doors or serving champagne…together, all of it, was utterly overwhelming. Intoxicating. Wonderful.

A valet had opened the door of the limousine as they’d pulled up to the front entrance of the hotel, and flashbulbs had popped and sparked as Mia had stepped out, blinking in the glare. She wasn’t used to the spotlight; she always stood to one side, watched it from afar. It felt very different to be the one basking in the bright light, especially when Alessandro had slid his arm through hers and smiled for the cameras, their heads nearly touching.

What was he doing? And why?

She still didn’t really understand the need for her presence at the ball. Yes, she knew Dillard’s clients, but she’d already given Alessandro all the relevant information in the files. And this was a charity event, not a business meeting. Surely he had someone else, a dozen ‘someone elses’, to accompany him to such a glittering occasion, a supermodel or socialite who would fit in more easily with all this well-heeled crowd? Mia didn’t know how to rub shoulders with these people; she was used to fetching them coffee. She was out of her depth, and she never felt it more so than when Alessandro approached a group of people, some of whom she knew, and introduced her as his ‘companion’.

Mia clocked the raised eyebrows, the curious smiles, the speculative looks, and like everyone else in the group she wondered what Alessandro Costa was playing at.

‘Why don’t you just tell people I’m your PA?’ she asked when they had a moment alone. She’d drunk two glasses of champagne in quick succession, more to have something to do than because of any desire to be drunk, but now her head was spinning, her tongue loosened.

‘Because tonight you are a beautiful woman who is accompanying me to a gala.’

‘But…’ She shook her head slowly, trying to discern the emotion behind his cool, mask-like exterior, his eyes like blank mirrors. The man gave absolutely nothing away. ‘Why?’

He shrugged his powerful shoulders, muscles rippling under the expensive material of his tuxedo. ‘Why not?’

‘You seem like a man who has a very clear reason for everything he does,’ Mia said slowly. ‘So your “why not?” doesn’t actually hold water with me.’

‘Oh?’ One dark slash of an eyebrow arched in cool amusement. ‘You surprise me with your perception, Miss James.’

‘If I’m your companion, perhaps you should call me Mia.’

Something flickered in his eyes, and Mia felt a shiver through her belly in response. She hadn’t meant to sound flirtatious, but she realised she might have…and she didn’t actually mind. ‘Very well,’ Alessandro said after a moment. ‘Mia.’ His voice, with his slight accent, seemed to caress the two syllables.

‘Where are you from?’ Mia asked. ‘It didn’t say when I looked online.’

His eyebrow arched higher. ‘You did a search on me?’

She shrugged. ‘After I heard you’d taken over the company, yes, of course. Information is power.’

‘True.’ His gaze held hers, his expression considering. ‘And is that what you want? Power?’

‘I want to keep my job,’ Mia said after a second’s pause. ‘And knowing my employer helps with that.’

‘Mia!’ A woman approached them in a flurry of cloying scent, kissing Mia on both cheeks while Alessandro stepped back discreetly. ‘Darling, how are you? I heard about poor Henry…’

Mia shot an alarmed look at Alessandro; his expression seemed dangerously neutral. ‘Diane,’ she said, after she’d returned the woman’s tight hug. ‘This is Alessandro Costa, the new CEO of Dillard Investments.’

‘New…oh.’ Diane Holley’s mouth dropped into a comical ‘o’ as she swivelled to face Alessandro, her eyes widening in shocked speculation.

‘Pleased to meet you…?’

‘Diane. Diane Holley.’ She took Alessandro’s outstretched hand, looking a bit dazed. As Diane shook his hand, Mia saw her expression change from surprise to admiration, her lowered gaze sweeping speculatively, and almost avariciously, over Alessandro Costa’s admittedly impressive form. ‘Very pleased to meet you too, of course…’ she murmured.

Mia felt a sharp tug of jealousy, a reaction which surprised and appalled her in equal measure. What on earth…? She had absolutely no reason to feel remotely jealous in any way. She didn’t care about Alessandro Costa. She didn’t even like the man. And jealousy was not an emotion she’d ever let herself entertain. It was so weak and needy. It was also dangerous.

And yet…she was wearing a beautiful dress, and he’d looked at her, for a brief second, with desire in his eyes, and for a single evening she’d felt like someone else entirely, someone transported into a fairy tale, from the shadows to the spotlight.

Perhaps one evening was too much, after all. The last thing she needed to do was lose her head, even for an evening, over Alessandro Costa. The man was too dangerous, and too much was at risk. Not just her job, but her very self. She couldn’t let Alessandro Costa affect her. Make her want. Make her weak. Not even for a moment.

Then he put another flute of champagne into her hand, and her fingers closed around the fragile crystal stem automatically. ‘You looked as if you were a million miles away,’ he murmured, his voice low and honeyed. ‘Don’t you like hearing about Diane Holley’s corgis?’

‘Corgis?’ Blinking, Mia realised Diane must have been chatting to Alessandro for a few minutes at least and she hadn’t taken in a word. The older woman, the wife of one of Dillard’s most important clients, had already moved on. ‘She told you about her corgis?’

‘I asked about them. You mentioned them this afternoon.’

‘Did I?’

Alessandro arched an eyebrow, looking more amused than annoyed—for once. ‘You really haven’t been paying attention, have you?’

‘Of course I have. I always do.’ She took a defiant sip of champagne. ‘Diane has four corgis, and one of them has digestive issues.’

‘She didn’t mention those tonight, thankfully.’

‘You were lucky, then.’ Mia’s breath came out in a surprised hiss as Alessandro took her elbow, his hand warm and dry and so very sure as he steered her towards another cluster of people. ‘Where…where are we going?’

‘To mingle, of course. That’s why we’re here. You’re going to introduce me to all these people, and then tell me their secrets.’

‘I thought I’d already done that this afternoon. Besides, I don’t know any secrets.’

‘I still need to put names to faces. And I think you know more secrets than you realise…always working behind the scenes, listening in the shadows.’

‘You make me sound like a snoop.’

‘No, someone who is smart.’ His gaze lingered on hers for a tantalising second as his hand had moved from her elbow to her waist, his fingers splayed across her hip. Heat flooded Mia’s body, and once again she was in danger of drifting along this lovely tide of feeling. ‘Mr Costa…’

‘You must call me Alessandro.’

‘You must stop acting like I’m your date.’ She knew she never would have said the words if she hadn’t had two glasses of champagne, and just chugged half of her third. If she wasn’t so afraid of how much he affected her.

‘Why? You are my date.’ He sounded utterly unruffled, like someone making a simple statement of fact.

‘No…’ Her breath came out in a rush. Her head spun. People were looking at them. Wondering. ‘I’m not. Not really…’

‘Yes, you are.’ They’d reached the group of people, and Alessandro kept his hand on her waist as he stretched out his other one. ‘Alessandro Costa, CEO of Dillard Investments.’ In turn, everyone shook his hand, with varying expressions of pleasure, speculation, or snobbery. It made Mia wonder yet again about Alessandro. What was he doing here, exactly? Why did he want her with him? Who was this man at her side? And how much did she want to know?

The chit-chat washed over her as she took in Alessandro’s easy, urbane manner. The man could be charming when he chose, a fact that alarmed her. If Alessandro Costa affected her when he was blunt and brusque, heaven help her when he was easy and affable.

She knew a few people in the group through Dillard’s, and somehow, her mind still spinning, she made chit-chat, introduced Alessandro to a few others, and stumbled through the evening, feeling as if she were acting a part in a play, desperate now to get to the end of the evening without embarrassing herself or losing her head entirely over the man at her side.

When they were alone again, and she was finishing her third glass of champagne, she rather recklessly asked him about it all.

‘I can make conversation, if that’s what you mean,’ he answered as he sipped his own champagne.

‘What do you want from these people?’ Mia asked, her tongue well and truly loosened by now. ‘Why did you buy Dillard Investments, really?’

A guarded look came over his face before he shrugged, the movement clearly meant to be dismissive. ‘Why do I buy any company?’

‘You tell me.’

The tiniest of pauses. ‘For financial gain.’

‘But you said yourself Dillard’s was operating at a loss.’

‘That doesn’t mean it always has to.’

‘Still…’ She shook her head slowly. ‘A man like you…’

‘A man like me?’ Alessandro’s voice sharpened. ‘What does that mean, exactly?’

‘Only that you must always have your eye on the bottom line.’

‘True.’ He eyed her thoughtfully. ‘So what did you learn about me, during that online cyberstalking session?’

Mia let out a choked laugh. ‘I was hardly stalking.’

‘Weren’t you?’

‘Gathering information. Big difference.’

‘Hmm.’ She felt dizzy with the turn in their conversation. It almost felt as if…as if they were flirting. But of course they couldn’t be. ‘So,’ Alessandro asked, stepping closer, ‘what did you learn about me, Mia?’

Alessandro hadn’t meant to ask the question. He surely didn’t mean to bother with the answer. He was curious despite his determination never to be curious about anyone. Curiosity implied caring, and he didn’t care. And yet… ‘Anything interesting?’ The words sounded provocative.

Mia licked her lips, her tongue looking very pink as she touched it to her full, lush lips, the instinctive movement causing a dart of desire to arrow through him, unsettling in its intensity. ‘Not really.’ Her gaze skittered away from his. ‘Not much.’

‘Tell me.’ His voice was low, the words a command, but with a thread of something dark and rich running through it, a promise he hadn’t meant to make. Mia turned to look at him, her eyes widening, looking very blue and clear. Eyes he could drown in if he let himself. He stepped closer. ‘Tell me,’ he said again.

‘Well…’ Again her tongue touched her lips. ‘You have a reputation for being ruthless. You take over companies, strip them of their assets, and fire about ninety percent of the staff before absorbing the company into Costa International.’

That was the gist without being entirely true, but Alessandro wasn’t about to defend his actions. They spoke for themselves.

‘Are you going to do that with Dillard’s?’ Her chin lifted a little. ‘Fire everyone? Get rid of it all?’

He eyed her for a moment, considering what to tell her. For some contrary reason he didn’t like the thought of her thinking badly of him, which was ridiculous, because he’d been thought of far worse by the furious CEOs he’d displaced.

‘I’m not going to fire everyone,’ he said at last. ‘I never do.’

‘Ninety percent, then.’

‘Your percentages are a bit off.’

‘Do you enjoy it?’ she asked, her voice choking. ‘Ruining people’s lives?’

He stared at her for a moment, fighting the urge to explain the truth of his mission. But, no. He was not going to justify himself to her. He was certainly not going to care about her opinion. ‘Does it seem as if I do?’ he asked, meaning to sound dismissive.

Slowly she shook her head. ‘You don’t actually seem cruel.’

‘No?’ He tried to keep his voice disinterested.

‘The media portrayed you as a bit of a cowboy…someone who came from nowhere and had a meteoric rise. Not entirely respectable, but not cruel.’

‘Well, they were wrong,’ Alessandro said lightly, even though her words were like razors on his skin. ‘I’m not at all respectable.’

‘Is that why you took Dillard’s over? To seem respectable?’

The question grated. As if he wanted to don Dillard’s shabby suit and call himself a gentleman. ‘Not at all. I don’t care one iota if I seem respectable or not.’

‘Then why bother with them? Where is the profit?’

‘In the clients I keep.’ Although Alessandro suspected there would be little profit indeed. Profit was not why he did what he did, at least not in regard to companies such as Dillard’s.

‘And what about all the employees? Innocent people…don’t you care about them?’

More than she would ever know. ‘You’re sounding like a crusader, Mia,’ he warned her. He did not wish to discuss this any longer. ‘It’s quite dull.’

Her eyes flashed. ‘So sorry I’m boring you, but people’s lives are at stake. Besides… I would have thought you might understand how they felt.’

He tensed, the perception in her eyes like a needle burrowing into his skin. ‘Oh?’

‘The media said you came from a poor background…the slums of Naples.’ He angled his head away from her, not trusting the expression on his face. ‘Is that true?’

‘Slums is such a pejorative word, but I suppose, in essence, yes.’ He did his best to sound bored. He was bored.

The last thing he wanted to talk about was his pathetic past…the endless chaos of moving from grotty flat to grotty flat, the stints in foster care when his mother had lost custody of him, the endless jobs she’d taken cleaning office buildings, the countless boyfriends she’d had in a desperate bid to assuage the despairing sadness of her life. A childhood he’d done his best always to remember, to remind him of how he would be different, even as he pretended to forget.

‘Then if you know what it’s like to be poor, to live from pay check to pay check, how can you fire people like that?’

‘Because I know what it’s like to work hard,’ he said in a steely voice, ‘and to earn what I have. And anyone who does those things will have a position with Costa International, that much I guarantee.’

Her eyes widened. ‘They will?’

She sounded so hopeful it made him cringe. ‘Dillard Investments was dying on the vine. I just plucked it before it fell, withered, to the ground. If anything, I’ve saved people’s jobs in the long run.’

‘Do you really mean that?’

Impatient now, he shrugged. ‘Henry Dillard was charming, I’ll grant you that, but he was a terrible businessman. I did his employees a favour.’ Why had he stooped to justifying himself? ‘I’m not the monster you seem to think I am,’ he finished levelly. ‘Regardless of what you read online.’

She stared at him for a moment, and he felt as if she were seeing right inside him, that blue, blue gaze burrowing deep down inside his soul, reaching places he’d closed off for good. He looked away, shrugging as he took a sip of champagne, struggling to master his wayward emotions.

‘No,’ she said softly. ‘I don’t think you are.’

‘You’ve changed your mind?’ He’d meant to sound offhand and failed.

‘I think you like to present yourself as someone hardened and ruthless,’ she said slowly. ‘It’s the right image for someone who specialises in corporate takeovers, isn’t it?’

‘I suppose.’ What else could he say? She saw too much already.

‘I wonder who you really are,’ she murmured. ‘I wonder what you’re hiding.’ Alessandro stared at her, unable to look away. He felt a tug low in his belly, pulling him towards her. She wanted to know him. It was beguiling, alarming. Nobody knew him, not like that.

‘Let’s dance,’ he said, his voice roughened with emotion. When they danced, they wouldn’t talk. She wouldn’t say things or see inside him. He would make sure of it.

Wordlessly Mia nodded, and after depositing their empty champagne flutes on a nearby table, Alessandro took her by the hand and led her to the ballroom’s parquet dance floor. The music was a slow, sensuous piece, the sonorous wail of a saxophone wrapping its lonely notes around them as Alessandro took her into his arms.

Her hips bumped his gently and heat flared white-hot, making his hands tense on hers before he deliberately relaxed his grip and began to move her around the floor.

She was elegant in his arms, matching the rhythm of his movements, her hips swaying, her body lithe. Lithe and eager. He felt her tremble and knew, like him, she felt this most inconvenient and heady desire, growing stronger with every second they swayed together. The realisation only stoked his own.

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