At The Italian's Command

Sophie refused to shrink under those cool eyes, even though at this point she could think of nothing more enjoyable than being swallowed up by the ground.

‘I realise that it’s inconvenient for you, Rafe, but this whole thing was arranged without my consent either.’

He gave a short, disbelieving laugh, but let it drop.

‘My schedule is intense.’ He shoved a piece of paper over to her and Sophie’s eyes flicked over it. A timetable that seemed to leave little room to breathe. ‘You can follow me into my meetings, although I really can’t see what the point of the exercise is. I work hard, but that is information I could have provided for you in the space of a five-minute meeting.’ Rafe sat back and proceeded to look at her with an unreadable expression on his darkly handsome face.

Same old Sophie. Gauche, tongue-tied and dressed in the same unfortunate style as her mother. Still. He had made his position clear from the onset. He wasn’t going to babysit her simply because of the connection between their parents.

‘I already knew that you’re a workaholic, Rafe—’

‘I work hard. Quite different from being a workaholic.’

‘I’ll make a note of it.’ Her blue eyes clashed with his own and he was impressed to see that her gaze was as steady as his. Must be desperate for her job, he thought. Anyone with a semblance of pride would have ditched the venture by now.

‘How are you, anyway?’ he asked, changing the subject, and was irritated to see that her cool expression didn’t thaw even fractionally in the face of this attempt at pleasantries.

‘Is that a meaningful question? I mean, are you really interested in my well-being or are you just being polite now that you’ve told me how you feel about my presence here?’

‘I’ll get back to you on that one, shall I?’ He stood up, expecting her to follow suit, which she did. ‘Meetings call. First one is on the other side of London with a couple of directors from a company I’m planning on buying.’ He strode across to a cleverly concealed sliding walnut door, which she had barely noticed when she had entered his office, and extracted his coat, which he proceeded to shrug on. ‘I move fast,’ he said, briefly turning to her, ‘and I don’t intend to slow down so that you can catch up. If you insist on this ridiculous venture, then you either keep up or get left behind. I won’t come looking for you.’

‘I wouldn’t expect you to.’ Well, things had got off to a predictable start. He found her irritating and she disliked him. Put the two together and you were hardly going to get an easy ride, but in a way she decided that that made her job simpler. She would be able to detach herself and write a completely honest report without having to think about treading on eggshells out of consideration for him.

With that in mind, she snatched her coat from the peg in the outside office, making sure to keep on the move while she put it on, and kept pace with him, asking no questions, letting her impressions take the driving seat.

He talked, walked and reacted like a man accustomed to giving orders and having them obeyed. This came as no surprise. He had been like that even as a young teenager. She watched the reactions of other people as he strode through the offices, the way they involuntarily altered their body language in his passing presence. His towering personality radiated outwards like a forcefield, inspiring respect and possibly fear.

‘Are your days normally so hectic?’ she asked, once they were in the lift down.

‘Where’s your notepad? Shouldn’t you be writing down all my answers?’ The cool, velvety voice sent little prickles racing down her spine.

‘That’s not how I intend to handle it. I’m going to write up a report at the end of every evening and then when it’s all over, I’ll compile the real thing and submit it to my editor.’

‘Which would be after you show it to me. Correct?’

‘Naturally, nothing would go to print that hadn’t been given the go-ahead by you.’ Frankly, she hadn’t really thought about that at all, and now that he had mentioned it she wondered how honest an account she would be able to give. No one liked themselves displayed, warts and all, for the world to examine. The lift juddered to a stop, they emerged and it was only when they were inside the chauffeur-driven Jaguar, that she had the chance to continue the conversation. She resolutely ploughed on in the face of him opening his briefcase and extracting a wad of papers that he clearly intended to peruse for the duration of the trip, never mind her questions.

‘But I intend to write quite a detailed and frank article. Would that frighten you?’

For a second, Rafe wondered whether he had heard correctly. He snapped shut the briefcase and turned very slowly to look at her. ‘Would that frighten me? Do I look like a man who scares easily?’

Sophie stuck her chin up, but her fingers were curled painfully around the handles of her executive briefcase. ‘Everyone has their own fear zones.’

‘According to…? Whom? Sophie Frey, psychologist?’

‘There’s no need to be sarcastic, Rafe.’

‘There’s every need to be sarcastic when you start trying to analyse me. You can follow me around and report factually on what you see. Wafting off into some airy-fairy land of speculation isn’t going to work.’

Sophie didn’t say anything and he frowned at her, fingers tapping restlessly on his leather briefcase, which was still shut.

‘Nor do I intend to allow your personal feelings for me to colour whatever you write.’

‘My personal feelings for you? I haven’t got personal feelings for you! I happen to know you…no, I take that back…I happen to know who you are because our mothers have been friends for ever, but that’s as far as it goes!’

‘Which doesn’t go a long way towards explaining that remark you made when you walked into my office this morning.’

‘What remark?’ There was wariness in her voice as she dredged her memory bank to try and recall what he could be talking about.

‘That this business was arranged without your consent. Implying that you didn’t want to be here any more than I wanted it. My reason is purely the nuisance factor of having you or anyone else around walking two paces behind me. What’s your excuse?’

Sophie felt patches of tell-tale colour flood her cheeks. Her fingers were now gripping the briefcase so tightly that she feared they might have to be forcibly unhooked by the end of the drive. It took effort to remember that she was a grown adult, a woman of twenty-seven, who had been to art college, had had boyfriends and had worked alongside other people for the better part of three years. Those eyes on her and that powerful, sexy, charismatic face were not going to reduce her to the nervous teenager she had once been in his presence.

‘My excuse is that I don’t believe in pulling strings. Sure, I’ve landed a coup in kicking off this new departure for the magazine by shadowing you, but I would have preferred to have done the groundwork myself, found someone who actually might not have minded having me around for two weeks!’ She glared at him.

So, he thought, the awkward mouse has teeth.

‘If that’s the truth, then fair enough. But whatever you write about me has to be unbiased.’

‘And when you read what I’ve written, you have to read it with a fair eye!’

‘I am a very fair man. Ask any of my employees.’

‘I take it that you’re giving me permission to talk to them about you?’

‘Why not?’

‘Because you might not like everything they have to say.’

‘In which case I’ll have the little beggars hung, drawn, quartered and then fed to the tigers I keep at the bottom of my garden specifically for that purpose…’ He smiled slowly at her and Sophie felt her breath catch in her throat. She became acutely aware of exactly how small the back seat of a car was, even the back seat of a big car.

‘I guess it’s the only efficient way of dealing with detractors,’ she said lightly, voice normal even though her heart was beating thunderously inside her. ‘Tell me, does there ever come a time when you just feel you want to crash out? I mean, you seem to be on the go permanently.’ There, much better, get the conversation back to basics.

‘I enjoy what I do. Why would I want to take time out?’

‘Because it’s exhausting?’

‘I don’t tire easily.’

‘Can I ask you how you got involved in your business? I mean, I know you inherited quite a bit when your father died years ago, but you’ve expanded…’

On firmer footing now, she could actually relax and listen to him as he gave her a potted account of his rise to his virtually untouchable status.

By the time the car was pulling up in front of a small but prestigious-looking building south of the river, she had pretty much got the factual backbone of her story mapped out in her head. A tale of a boy born into privilege, with a brain that entitled him to strive for his own goals and the burning ambition to do it. A fair bit of the story she already knew, having grown up in the same village, but it was nevertheless interesting to see his take on his situation. While he admitted to his moneyed background, it was something he obviously simply took for granted. He had never been drawn towards an excessive lifestyle, although he had not spurned the doors his family wealth had initially opened. He had taken the reins of his father’s company when the time had come and from there had begun his process of branching out.

‘And what will you be doing here?’ Sophie asked, clambering out behind him, making sure to keep up with his long strides.

‘Discussing the possibility of buying a small IT company, which I might actually hang onto for longer than usual because I think it has potential.’