Affairs Of The Heart: The Italian Boss's Secret Child

Meaning she should look the part. His suit smacked of designer while hers screamed bargain basement. She mentally flicked through her wardrobe’s contents, more spartan than ever after a pre-wedding economy drive. Bryce had been keen to get a property portfolio established between them as soon as possible and she’d been on a strict budget. Of course, she hadn’t realised that at the same time that she was budgeting, he was out splashing everything he could on the other woman, Miss Hot-Property.

All her scrimping hadn’t left much in the way of spending money though, especially for new clothes. Three suits, one tan, one summer-weight beige and the tweed she had on, plus black trousers, assorted blouses and a winter jacket was all that quickly came to mind if she didn’t count one pristine wedding dress still in its cellophane wrapping. She really ought to think about returning that some time. She wouldn’t be using it now.

She could have used her savings to buy new clothes since then, of course. But there was every possibility she’d need all of that and more once her mother got too sick to stay at home.

She was no fool. As much as she wanted to be able to care for her mother, there would come a time when it just wouldn’t work. She wouldn’t be able to be there twenty-four hours a day and she’d need to move somewhere with better care options. And from the enquiries she’d already made, good hospice care didn’t come cheap.

‘I don’t know,’ she said honestly. ‘What will I need?’

He barely looked up. ‘See Enid later. She’ll have the schedule and you can work out what you have to get and go shopping this afternoon after we’ve worked out a strategy. I’ll arrange an allowance.’

‘Fine,’ she said, feeling totally aggrieved, ramming her glasses up her nose defiantly as she turned on her heel. ‘I just hope it’s enough.’

It was more than enough. Philly surveyed the figure on the letter of authority Enid handed her with shock. Surely someone had made a mistake?

‘I think there’s one too many zeroes,’ she suggested.

Enid glanced over, eyes peering through her bifocals. ‘No, that’s right. Now there are three boutiques listed where this authority is valid. They should be able to supply everything you need. If you have to go elsewhere, keep the receipts and you’ll be reimbursed.’

‘But this is a fortune.’

Enid smiled at the younger woman. ‘He just wants you to look nice. It’s important to him.’

‘It’s important to the deal, more like it,’ she said, certain that nothing Damien thought about her would be personal. It would all relate to business.

The older woman’s head tilted to one side.

‘I think you’ll find he’s right. This deal’s very important to the company and we have to do everything we can to ensure it comes off. I’m quite sure you’ll feel more confident and more professional with a couple of new outfits and much more capable of holding your own. And I know Damien can seem a little tactless at times. But you mustn’t take it too seriously. He simply hasn’t had the same start most of us have had.’

If Philly hadn’t heard his comment about losing his family earlier, she’d think Enid was mad. The guy was a multimillionaire, for goodness’ sake, and here was someone practically feeling sorry for him.

Could Enid be right? The question plagued Philly’s mind as she spent the next two hours searching for outfits suitable for meetings, possible cocktail parties and flash dinners in boutiques she’d only ever dreamed about entering before.

Was the early tragedy in his life the reason why he was so driven to succeed? So demanding of everyone around him? Was he trying to show the world he could make it on his own? Was that why he rode roughshod over everyone else’s feelings—because his own had been so desperately and critically shattered at such a tender age?

Whoa! Next thing she’d be feeling sorry for him too. She didn’t need that—not with the secret of last Saturday night playing on her mind.

And she couldn’t afford to feel anything for Damien. If he’d thought he was easing her mind by declaring there was no way he’d be tempted to seduce her, he had another think coming.

He’d no doubt thought he was being considerate, allaying a sweet innocent nobody’s fears of seduction at the hands of her boss. When it was already too late for that. Much too late.

All he’d done was insult her. Making love with Cleopatra was one thing but making love with Philly Summers was never going to happen.

How reassuring! He’d made it clear that the man she couldn’t stop fantasising about had her pegged around at the level of the woman least likely. How flattering—and yet here she was, supposed to feel relieved.

And all he’d done was to reinforce her resolve not to reveal her secret. Given his attitude he would be less impressed with the revelation. Clearly he would be embarrassed at the thought—probably even humiliated. Well, she would save them both that. She would forget it had ever happened. He need never know.

But if she became pregnant?

She shivered. She didn’t want to go down that path. It was altogether too exciting and yet too terrifying. And the chances were so slim. How many couples got pregnant the first time they had unprotected sex anyway? It was hardly likely to be a consideration.

She sighed, fed up with both shopping and with the direction her thoughts were going. Spending two days in Damien’s company would be bad enough. But to spend one night away—that could only be worse. She would have to do her best to remain cool, aloof and totally professional and with any luck he’d treat her with his usual professional disregard. Then in two weeks she’d have her period and there’d never be a reason she’d have to reveal a thing to him.

And in time she might even forget about what had happened in the boardroom, might stop thinking about the way his body had rippled in the slatted moonlight as he’d driven into her, the way he’d felt inside, possessing her.

Forget that night?

That was a laugh. There was no way she was ever going to be able to forget that.

She was late. The plane was due to take off in less than half an hour and she was nowhere to be seen. She couldn’t have changed her mind—he’d arranged everything. The last time he’d spoken to her she’d even admitted that the live-in nurse Enid had organised was wonderful and that her mother was totally relaxed about the whole arrangement.

Not so Ms Summers. He could still see the nervous pinch to her lips, the strain in her face so evident whenever they’d discussed the upcoming trip. What was really bothering her? She couldn’t be worried about him coming on to her. Hadn’t he assured her this was purely a business trip? She wasn’t his type for a start. Sure, she was great at her job but he had no more intention of seducing her than he would ask someone to marry him. It just wasn’t going to happen.

In any event, he preferred his women lush, sexy and temporary, like that woman on Saturday night—her outfit accommodating, her attitude willing.

Though she’d proved far too temporary for his liking.

Who the hell was she anyway? Two days of scouring staff lists and making discreet enquiries had got him absolutely nowhere. His mystery woman remained that, a mystery. All he had was the memory of her, her fingers clutched behind his head, her tight breasts spilling out and her body open to him. His body responded to the images in his mind and he cursed low and rough as he helped himself to a cup of espresso.

He hadn’t had enough of her, not by a long shot, but thinking about her now wasn’t going to help him.

He lifted his head, scouring the airline club lounge once more as he emptied a stick of sugar into his cup but there was no sign of a sandy-coloured ponytail, no thick tortoiseshell glasses in evidence anywhere.

Damn, where the hell could she be?

A blonde in a pale green trouser suit approached the coffee station and he moved away to make room for her.

‘I was wondering when you were going to get here.’

He swung back, coffee sloshing over the side of his cup. He steadied it with his other hand. His brain wasn’t so easy to get a handle on. Ms Summers?

Sure enough it was her hazel eyes staring up at him, but they looked different. She looked different. He blinked.

‘I booked one of the offices so we could go over the paperwork—just this way.’

He followed her into the small office, wondering just what had happened to his little brown mouse. She still smelled the same, the now familiar apricot scent wafting freshly in her wake. It was her looks that had changed. The long-line jacket sat over a fitted white shell top and seemingly floated behind her as she walked in matching trousers that weren’t tight yet still hinted at womanly curves below.

Her hair, uncharacteristically worn down, was shoulder-length and feathered at the ends and it didn’t look the colour of sand any more. It looked more like honey, honey sprinkled with crystals of sugar, the ends swishing and flicking with her motion. And what had she done with her glasses?

He was seated at the desk before he could talk. ‘You look—different,’ he said at last.

She smiled, almost as if self-conscious, as her gaze flicked over the outfit. ‘I hope it’s appropriate. I know business is a little more relaxed up in Queensland.’

He nodded his approval as his eyes slowly moved up her body. She fingered the ends of her hair and caught him looking. ‘Oh, that. I was due for a cut so I let them talk me into something extra this time. But I didn’t use your money. I paid for the hair myself.’

‘What happened to your glasses?’

‘Contact lenses. I lost one and had to get a new prescription made up. Still, I don’t wear them as much as I should…’ She hesitated. ‘What’s wrong?’