Innocent In The Boardroom: At Her Boss's Pleasure / Her Boss by Day... / How to Sleep with the Boss

‘So this is how the other half live,’ she breathed, impressed to death. ‘Am I standing out like a sore thumb?’

She looked at him anxiously and he smiled.

‘I don’t think there’s a dress code in operation here,’ he told her gently, guiding her forward and flicking their first-class passes to the well-groomed woman behind the polished curved counter.

Actually, there was. The dress code was expensive. He felt a sudden surge of protectiveness, which he dismissed as the normal reaction of a boss looking out for his employee. Having her insulted, stared at or criticized in any way was something he would not tolerate.

He ushered her to a long, low sofa, settled her down. When he asked her what she would like to drink he was amused to see her spring to her feet, eyes bright.

‘I should do the honours,’ she told him seriously. ‘You are my boss, after all...’

‘Of course,’ Alessandro murmured. ‘What was I thinking?’

So she didn’t blend in? He was suddenly contemptuous of all those unspoken rules the seriously wealthy played by. A rich diet of supermodels had blinded him to the realities that everyone else lived with. And, of all people, shouldn’t he know that the wealthy had their failings? Didn’t always conform?

He frowned, distracted by the rare intrusion of introspection. He came from wealth—had known first-hand its ups and downs, had experienced the frailty of what could be so easily taken for granted. He was secure in his own personal fortune—had made sure of that—but it struck him that he no longer looked outside the box at lifestyles that weren’t rich and privileged.

He was accustomed to his rare stratosphere because it was the one everyone he knew inhabited—including the women he dated. Although it had to be said that their passports came via their incredible looks.

She returned five minutes later with two plates heaped with various titbits, from little dainty sandwiches to cream cakes and packets of biscuits.

‘I’ve gone a little mad,’ she confessed. ‘I know it’s not cool to take a bit of everything that’s there, but I couldn’t resist.’

‘You don’t have to justify yourself to me, Kate. Take whatever you want. That’s what it’s there for. I’d bet that half the people here would love to do the same, but some warped sense of wanting to blend in and look cool stops them.’

Kate breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I’m ravenous, anyway.’

‘We could have a full breakfast if you’d rather?’

‘You’re kidding?’

‘Perfectly serious. Airlines command fat fares for first-class travellers. Frankly, hot food in their lounges is the very least one can expect.’

‘I’m fine.’ She reminded herself that she wasn’t there to have fun. Work was what was on the agenda—and not of a very pleasant nature either. ‘But thank you for the offer.’

She tucked in as delicately as possible whilst noticing that he ate next to nothing.

‘You can work if you want to,’ she contributed awkwardly. ‘You don’t have to feel that I need entertaining.’

‘I don’t.’

She reluctantly looked at the little pile of uneaten sandwiches on her plate. ‘How do you intend to...to confront George? Have you given it much thought? I know you have all the evidence compiled, but are you just going to present him with it in front of his wife?’

‘Haven’t thought that far ahead.’

‘I’d hate him to think that I might have been the one to instigate this whole sorry business,’ she admitted. ‘Although if I show up at your side I guess that’s the first thing he’ll think.’

‘Why does it matter?’ Alessandro dismissed her concern with a careless shrug. ‘So he gets the boot and puts it down to you? What’s the big deal?’

‘The “big deal” is that some of us actually care what other people think of them.’

‘Why? Will you ever see him again? His family?’

‘That’s not the point.’ She looked at him curiously. ‘How can you be so...so cold and detached?’

And he was. Despite the fact that he socialized heavily, dated women by the bucketload if office gossip and the daily tabloids were anything to go by, there was something about Alessandro Preda that remained remote and untouchable.

She shivered. Was that all part and parcel of his incredible appeal?

In the City he was feared as a ruthless competitor. Men and women alike were awed by him. Even here, as she surreptitiously slid her eyes to the side, she could see the way people checked him out. He commanded attention and took it as his right. They all knew he was rich, or else he wouldn’t be in a first-class lounge. They only wondered if he was famous—and if so famous, for what?

But, for all the attention he garnered, on some level he didn’t engage. Why was that? she wondered.

‘Trust me...cold and detached are two words that have never been used by a woman to describe me...’

And all at once Kate knew what he had been referring to with that little smile curling his lips, when he had told her that wallets held more important stuff than money and credit cards.

Condoms.

A man who could have whatever woman he wanted always had to be prepared, she thought, with a burst of cynicism.

It was incredible that she had managed to forget just what sort of a person he was. He might be remote, he might be as shallow as a puddle when it came to anything emotional, but he was also witty, intelligent, and when he focused those dark, speculative, brooding eyes on her, all her misgivings floated away like dew on a hot summer morning.

Which didn’t change the fact that he was a man who made sure he carried condoms in his wallet—because who knew when some poor good-looking girl might cross his path, hoping for more than just a one-night stand or a one-month fling with a bunch of goodbye roses when she was on her way out?

‘Well, this is one woman who’s using them now,’ Kate said coolly. ‘When we’ve confronted poor George in his hotel room and you’ve shaken him down and booted him out of your company without a backward glance, will you be able to wipe your hands and walk away without giving him a second thought? Because if you can then you’re cold and detached—and it doesn’t matter how many adoring fans tell you the opposite.’

From any other woman Alessandro would not have taken this. He had his rules and his boundaries and those were lines that were never crossed. In truth, he never really even had to lay them down. They were unwritten, unspoken and obeyed without fail.

Kate Watson—who, on the surface, promised to be as non-committal as a plank of wood—chose to disregard every single one of those boundary lines, and her rampant disobedience intrigued him and he didn’t quite know why.

Maybe it was the dichotomy between what she strove to conceal and what she was lured into revealing against her better judgement.

He might not be involved with her on a personal level, but there was something in her that aroused his interest.

‘I expect you’re going to remind me that it’s not my place to voice opinions about you or what you do...’ she muttered in a half-hearted apology.

‘We’re going to be in each other’s company for a week. If you have something to say then you might as well get it off your chest. I don’t think I can face your constant disapproval. And I’m guessing from those pursed lips that you do disapprove of me?’

‘I... No, of course I don’t...’ Her voice fell away.

‘Of course you do. You have opinions on the type of person I am, and admiration isn’t one of them. That’s something you’ve decided you’ll leave to those adoring fans of mine.’

Hot colour crawled up into her cheeks. Pursed lips. She was a woman with pursed lips and disapproval and starchy suits. He was fun. And she was the schoolmarm who always rained on his parade.

Except it wasn’t fun when there was some poor, deluded hopeful woman at the receiving end, was it?

‘I have a lot of admiration for your business acumen,’ she said stiffly. ‘They say that everything you touch turns to gold. That’s quite an achievement. I think it takes a lot to be a guy who builds all the businesses and it’s something quite different from the guy who services them. You’re the guy who builds the businesses.’