Unwordly Secretary, Gorgeous Boss: Secretary Mistress, Convenient Wife / The Boss's Unconventional Assistant / The Boss's Forbidden Secretary

‘Don’t, Fabian!’

‘What have I done?’ he asked, in apparent innocence.

You’re leading me down a road I am frightened to go down, Laura answered in the silence of her mind. And yet every second you smile at me the temptation to travel it grows too great to resist.

‘I’m only here to work for you, and you’re treating me like—like something far more personal than that.’

‘I have asked you to be my wife … remember?’

‘But the marriage you have in mind is hardly a proper one.’

‘It will be legal and proper in every way!’ He looked affronted for a moment.

Sensing this was not the time to confront the issue, Laura sighed. ‘You know what I mean! But I suppose we have no choice but to wait until later to discuss it properly. Well … I’d better go and get ready for the evening.’

‘Before you do that I think you should get a massage first. Iron is more yielding than the muscles in the back of your neck! And I want you to be as relaxed as possible tonight, so that you will enjoy the occasion and not dread it.’

His words brought up a new concern. ‘Are you dreading it, Fabian?’ she asked quietly.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I haven’t been immune to the fact that you seem a little less than thrilled about the whole event … yet your dedication to helping the children at the hospice is unquestionable!’

Her comment definitely seemed to take him aback. The very blue irises around much darker pupils seemed to acquire an even more intense hue. ‘You are an astute woman, and I cannot deny that promoting and holding this concert brings up some difficult challenges for me personally. But this is not something that I want to consider right now, when I am just a short time away from greeting my guests … si?’

‘Yes, I understand.’

‘Come with me.’ Getting hold of her hand, he steered her firmly towards the door. ‘Where are you—?’

But Fabian wouldn’t say where he was taking her, and Laura had no choice but to allow him to lead her through corridors and vestibules she’d never entered before, and finally down some marble steps to an area that was done out like a Roman spa—complete with inviting swimming pool, and the scent of lemon and pine and sweet herbs clinging to the moist air.

As she glanced interestedly at the beautiful marble statues of scantily clad women that appeared to have been modelled on Botticelli’s Venus, arranged at equally measured distances across an intricate mosaic-tiled floor, a door opened to the right of them and a young man stepped out. Clad in fitted white T-shirt and shorts, with bronzed skin, silky toned muscles and dark curling hair, he couldn’t have been much more than twenty.

‘Ciao, Giuseppe!’ Going forward, his hand still firmly clasping Laura’s, Fabian greeted the younger man with a friendly slap on his hard-muscled bicep. ‘This is Laura, who has been standing in for Carmela the past few days,’ he explained in English. ‘She has been working extremely hard, helping to organise the concert tonight, and is in need of a massage.’

‘Fabian—no!’ Her expression aghast, Laura felt her limbs turn to jelly at the mere idea of this young Hercules applying his practised hands to her pale and less than perfect flesh, with its disfiguring scars. What was Fabian trying to do to her, plunging her into all these uncomfortable situations? Force her to confront the fact that she was different from every other woman he knew? She already knew that.

‘She is a little shy,’ he told Giuseppe with an enigmatic smile. ‘Just her neck, shoulders and back will do. Can you find your own way back to your rooms?’ he asked, his avid gaze latching onto Laura’s again.

‘But, Fabian, I—’

‘You are in good hands with Giuseppe. There is no need to be anxious. He may be young, but he is a master of his craft. I will see you in about an hour and a half at the front entrance. I want you to be with me when I greet our guests. Ciao.’

Leaning forward, he planted a soft kiss at the side of her jaw, just beneath her ear, and Laura sensed heat rush into her with force—especially as he had done it in front of the young masseur.

‘Signorina?’ Giuseppe was holding the door open for her with a smile that was both reassuring and inviting. ‘Do not worry … I will make you feel like a new woman!’ he promised, and Laura felt her ensuing blush right down to the very edges of her toes.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE young tenor’s voice elicited goosebumps up and down Laura’s body. Accompanied by a magical Spanish guitar, it was the ultimate gift after all her hard work over the past few days, and made every worry and doubt she’d had about the concert melt away.

Seated in the front row of the beautifully decorated marquee, with Fabian beside her dressed in matchless Italian tailoring, making her pulse-rate soar and her heart leap every time she glanced at him, she momentarily shut her eyes and let the mesmerising sound carry her away. The music seemed to enter her bloodstream—the young singer’s voice, along with the heartrending words that he sang, eliciting such deep sorrow inside her that it was almost too much to bear.

Behind her closed lids her eyes were drowned in tears. She had travelled so far to be where she was now, and when she looked back it was nothing short of a miracle that she’d made it.

Before she could regain her composure, a hand covered hers and comfortingly squeezed it. Glancing round in surprise, Laura’s moist gaze locked onto Fabian’s, and she was startled by the apparent concern that blazed back at her. For a man who seemed to regard emotion as a necessary evil at best, and an illogical inconvenience at worst, his actions were almost incomprehensible to her. Managing the faintest of smiles, she slid her hand out from beneath his—even though she secretly longed to keep it there—and reached into her evening purse for a tissue.

All too soon the fabulous glittering concert came to an end. Fabian brought the evening to a close by thanking all the artists for donating their incredible performances, then the guests for their ‘very generous and welcome contributions’ to the hospice fund and finally Laura herself for her hard work and dedication in helping to organise the event in Carmela’s absence—he indicated that she join him on stage and she was truly taken aback when a pretty girl dressed all in white presented her with a huge bouquet of cream roses. As she accepted the unexpected token of thanks Fabian stepped forward and, instead of the customary kiss on both cheeks, stunned her completely—and no doubt everyone in the audience too—by kissing her full on the mouth, deliberately letting his lips linger there for a very long moment. When he broke away his gorgeous blue eyes were twinkling with almost boyish satisfaction and an undeniable hint of mischief in their hypnotic depths. Her senses already swimming with the heady scent of the roses, Laura wondered how she remained standing she was besieged by such intoxicating dizziness. Reaching for her hand, Fabian thanked everyone again and left the stage to applause that was buzzing with frank curiosity as well as appreciation of the night’s events. Laura imagined they were thinking who was she to command such personal attention from their handsome host? As soon as they descended the steps, they were instantly surrounded by a veritable swarm of people, shouting questions as well as congratulations at Fabian. Catching a brief glimpse of the reserve that seemed to slot into automatic place in his otherwise amiable expression as he pressed her close into his side—Laura sensed that all he wanted to do just then was get away from the clamouring crowd and be alone for a few minutes. Knowing that wasn’t going to happen any time soon judging by the melee around them, she too longed to have some private time to herself to assimilate all that had gone on … particularly Fabian’s very public kiss on her lips.

Suddenly, in the midst of the clamouring throng, Aurelia Visconti appeared. The crowd parted like the Red Sea to let her through, so that the diva could reach the man whose attention they all seemed to crave, and all eyes were suddenly on her lush figure, shown off to maximum effect in a shimmering black gown with a plunging neckline. Deliberately not acknowledging Laura in any way, she curled her fingers round Fabian’s arm, as if to claim him for herself, leant towards him and whispered something in his ear.

He turned back apologetically to Laura. ‘I am sorry, but I am going to have to leave you alone for a little while. Do you mind? I will be back soon.’ His glance was rueful, but nonetheless told Laura that whatever he was going to do couldn’t be avoided. A faint swirl of his hypnotic aftershave drifted beneath her nose, and all of a sudden he’d left with Aurelia.

Seconds later the disappointed crowd reluctantly dispersed, leaving Laura standing there clutching her bouquet alone. Helplessly, jealously, her gaze followed the glamorous pair—clearly heading for somewhere more private. The moment the striking soprano steered Fabian out of the marquee altogether Laura felt almost faint from hurt and disappointment.

It wasn’t until the majority of the concert’s audience had left, and the remaining invited guests staying for supper had filed into another lavishly decorated marquee, that Laura saw Fabian again. With no sign of the possessive Aurelia—even though she was one of his guests of honour—Laura wondered what was the reason for the older woman’s absence. Glimpsing a distinct mark of scarlet lipstick at the edge of Fabian’s chiselled jaw, she felt her heartbeat go wild in anguished protest. She’d nursed the ridiculous hope that maybe the two weren’t as close as things indicated, but now she knew different. Clearly the two of them had slipped away to be intimate, and she had been left to talk to Fabian’s guests and reassure them of his imminent return on her own.

Suddenly the magic of the wonderful evening turned to dust, like a handful of brittle autumn leaves clasped in her palm, and as Fabian gestured that she come and sit beside him at the top table her feet obeyed reluctantly. There was suddenly a great impulse in her to escape and mull over her unhappiness in private.

‘You look very beautiful in that dress,’ he said, his accented voice velvety pitched and intimate. But Laura didn’t feel very beautiful. Not any more … Even though the dress Dante and she had finally chosen was a stunning creation of ice-green silk with a halter-necked front high enough to hide her scars and a back that plunged daringly low. All she could focus on was the lipstick mark left by Aurelia.

‘Very sexy. You must keep it and wear it just for me,’ Fabian continued, pinning her to the spot with his hot, hungry gaze.

Thinking of what he might have been doing with another woman just minutes ago, as well as the controversial business proposition that still awaited Laura’s answer, she feverishly grasped at the need for some perspective on the situation before her heightened feelings careened out of control.

‘You know I can’t do that.’ ‘Why not?’

‘Because it’s haute couture, and I’m well aware that it’s probably worth a small fortune!’

‘What high-minded principles you have, Laura! I have never known a woman to refuse a gift of mine yet, and you are not just any woman! You know what I refer to.’

She did—and the thought made her swallow hard.

‘It is still too much, Fabian.’

‘Then you would deny me the pleasure of giving you this gift, and that does not make me feel good.’

Although he was still smiling, his glance had slightly chilled, and Laura wondered how she had seemingly acquired quite the talent for saying the wrong thing to him.

‘I’m sorry … I didn’t mean to sound so ungrateful.’ Her spirits sank even further at his rebuke. ‘It’s an extremely kind gesture … thank you. And I didn’t get a chance to thank you for the massage earlier either.’

Embarrassed heat cascaded spectacularly through her as she realised how that might sound to anyone overhearing their conversation. Though this time Fabian was looking anything but chilly. Leaning even closer towards her—so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath skim across her mouth—he seemed suddenly fascinated by that particular part of her anatomy.

‘Would it surprise you to know that I was jealous of Giuseppe this afternoon? So jealous that I found it extremely hard to concentrate on anything else after I left you.’

‘Fabian … why isn’t Aurelia here?’

Her question, used to deflect the frighteningly intimate nature of his conversation, didn’t seem to particularly perturb him. Those broad shoulders of his, encased in exquisite tailoring, lifted in a nonchalant shrug. ‘She suddenly found that she had another engagement to go to.’