At The Italian's Command

‘I know basic decency!’

‘You know nothing,’ Rafe intoned coldly. He turned to her as soon as they were in the car. ‘Life isn’t about living in a cosy little cocoon. It’s about being one step ahead of the game. Take notes, Sophie, because this bit’s important. I’m where I am today because I stay ahead of the game. It’s not a crime and it’s not a sin, it’s just life.’

‘You mean you stay ahead of the game at the expense of other people!’

Rafe looked at her flushed face through narrowed eyes. Just about now, he should shrug and let her stew in her own blinkered misconceptions. After all, since when did he ever feel compelled to justify his behaviour to anyone? His mother, yes, perhaps, but even she knew that what he did in business was not her concern.

‘I’m saving Bob from a worse fate,’ he said finally. ‘His company has made furniture for decades and with each passing year the demand for expensive handmade furniture has become less and less. It can’t compete with the cheap imitations and that’s just a fact of life, whether you like it or not. So here’s the simple equation for you—either Bob sells to me, and my offer is about the most generous he’ll get, or he goes under, sees every small asset whipped away from under him and finds himself liable for his outstanding debts, which are not inconsiderable. There is no way he can sell the company as a going concern.’

‘Then why are you so interested in buying it?’

Rafe sighed irritably. ‘Why are you so interested in the outcome of a deal you will have long left behind you in a few days’ time?’

‘Because it’s a reflection of you!’ Sophie told him. ‘Which,’ she made sure to add quickly, ‘is what I’m here for. To find out about you.’ Her blue eyes tangled with his green ones and something inside her stirred uneasily. Was that the whole truth? The question fluttered inside her, just a shadowy thought that gently tugged at the foundations, nothing alarming, just…

She gave him a bright, conciliatory smile. ‘Hence the nosiness. I know you don’t like it, but you could say that it’s my job…’

‘Okay. Here’s a question for you, in that case—what did you notice about the building?’

Sophie frowned in puzzlement. ‘It seemed a little tired and very quiet…’

‘And also sitting in quite a bit of derelict land, wouldn’t you agree?’

‘You’re buying that poor man’s family business because of the land?’

Rafe flushed, annoyed with himself for offering an explanation that was essentially none of her business. What had possessed him? The girl was like a damned dog with a bone, a small, energetic, questioning and highly irritating dog. Furthermore that horrified, accusatory look in her eyes was getting on his nerves.

‘What exactly is your problem here?’

‘What are you going to do with the land? It’s in the middle of nowhere!’

‘I am going to sit on it for a while and then I intend to turn the place into an out-of-town shopping village.’

‘Right, so let me get this straight. That poor old man, who has probably spent his whole life working for his family business, is going to have the lot demolished by a greedy tycoon who wants to make a quick buck by building lots of unsightly shops!’

Rafe’s lips thinned with outrage. ‘No one speaks to me like that!’ His voice was like the crack of a whip, which Sophie steadfastly ignored. As she ignored, too, the forbidding expression on his face.

‘Is making money the only thing that motivates you?’

‘It’s the only thing that motivates the vast majority of the human race,’ Rafe growled, flushing darkly. ‘Deny it if you can.’

‘It’s not the only thing that motivates. There are other things in life as well! Having fun, for one!’

‘What did you do last night?’

‘Last night?’ Distracted, Sophie frowned. ‘Nothing, why?’

‘Night before?’

‘I think I watched some telly.’

‘What are you doing tonight?’

‘I get where you’re heading, Rafe! But at least my whole life doesn’t revolve around work!’

‘Nor does mine. In fact, it’s purely about fun. Dinner with friends at Romano’s in Fulham tomorrow night. Why don’t you join us? After all, you do want to get the complete picture, don’t you? Unless you’re busy? Unless someone important in your life you’re currently having fun with is taking you out?’

Sophie scowled at him and he shot her a glance of lazy amusement.

‘Well? Prepared to take up the challenge? In your quest to find out all about me, which is the point of the exercise…?’

‘Just tell me what time!’

CHAPTER THREE

PROVOKED into agreeing to join Rafe and friends for dinner, Sophie had found herself the following lunchtime taking time out to do something she very rarely did, namely clothes shopping.

Having grown up with a mother who had drummed into her from an early age that a fancy dress did not ‘maketh’ the girl, Sophie had spent her teenage years good-naturedly following her friends into shops, watching as they had tried on various outfits, which they had generally had little intention of buying, and resisting their persuasions to go down the same route.

‘I don’t honestly see the point,’ she had said on several occasions. ‘I’m comfortable in what I wear.’ It had become a mantra so deeply ingrained that she had never felt as though she stood out in her teenage crowd, even though she had. Now, older, she still refused to give in to the passing trends, some of which were ridiculous and uncomfortable, but she was very much aware that, in so doing, she set herself apart from the mainstream crowd of young twenty-somethings who flaunted as much as they could get away with just so long as they attracted attention.

Attracting attention had never been high on her agenda of must-do’s.

She had never had too much trouble making friends and having boyfriends and she had proudly told herself that her unwillingness to go with the fashion flow was a mark of her strength of character.

Until now.

Rafe’s jibe at her lack of social life was all wrapped up with the way he looked at her, the way his eyes skirted over her, dismissing her as a woman. Of course, that in itself didn’t matter, but still…it rankled.

Bad motive for clothes shopping, she thought now, gazing down at what she had impulsively bought five hours previously.

Turquoise was a very daring colour, especially considering they were in the depths of winter, although at the time Sophie had been persuaded by the salesgirl into thinking that it was vibrant. The description had appealed because it was the one word she would never have used to describe herself and the one thing she wanted to convey to Rafael Loro, arrogant, patronising bastard that he was.

So here I am now, she thought glumly, the proud possessor of a skin-tight turquoise dress in suspicious stretch material. She held it up by the tips of two fingers and glanced into the shoebox where a pair of high-heeled shoes were waiting to put in their appearance. Her fantasies of wiping that smug smile off Rafe’s face now seemed absurd. Who cared if he spent every second of the remainder of her assignment smiling smugly?

Before she had left the office, he had given her precise directions to the restaurant, as if he somehow didn’t trust her to have sufficient wit to communicate her destination to a cab driver. He had also, as an afterthought, informed her that she could bring along a companion if she liked. She would have to have been blind not to have seen the shadow of a snigger that had accompanied his apparently well-intentioned remark.

She decided to wear the overpriced turquoise nonsense she had bought, and very nearly managed to convince herself that she would feel good in it.

An hour and a half later she stared back at her reflection with a sinking heart.

She was no longer looking at Sophie Frey. Sophie Frey, of the comfortable, baggy clothes and no make-up, had gone into hiding. Here was someone else. Red hair tumbled down in riotous curls, mascara and eye liner emphasised huge blue eyes, and a figure normally scrupulously hidden away now flaunted curves that Sophie was only dimly aware of possessing. The shoes made her legs look longer and thinner than they possibly could be.

She decided that it was a blessing that she would not be having to conduct any sensible, work-oriented conversations because she certainly didn’t feel very sensible in what she was wearing.

Her parents had been wrong, she thought as she sat in the back seat of the taxi, clutching her impractical black purse. There was a lot to be said for uncomfortable clothes. They made no sense on an everyday basis, but, as a one-off, they certainly did some weird personality-altering things. She felt sexy!

The restaurant, where she was eventually deposited fifteen minutes late, was tucked away and cleverly pretending to be a house. Only a discreet sign heralded that it was a restaurant at all.