The Innocent And The Playboy

Rachel lifted her eyes from the papers in front of her. Across the table Riccardo was the only one not trying to make himself heard in the hubbub. The only one apart from her, that was.

Suddenly something seemed to draw his attention to her. Seeing her silent, he raised his brows. Then he looked directly at her, straight in the eyes. Rachel felt as if she had touched a naked wire. She jolted back in her seat, breaking the eye contact feverishly. But she knew he was still looking at her.

Beside her Philip was roaring, ‘Breach of confidence ... Complain to the authorities... The bank will sue...’

Riccardo was unimpressed. His lip curled faintly. He said nothing. Suddenly Rachel could not bear it any more. She stood up. The move was so unexpected that it attracted everyone’s attention.

If she had ever imagined a scenario like this she would have been alarmed at the thought of taking public initiative away from Philip. But she had never imagined it. And anyway there were older and far more serious things she had feared in her life than Philip Jensen’s potentially wounded ego.

So she said levelly, ‘Gentlemen, the main item on the agenda was future business strategy. My report is in your folder as item four. I suggest we break to consider Mr di Stefano’s analysis. Then we can come back and discuss it. We can look at the strategy options once we’ve agreed where the bank is falling down now.’

She sat down. There was a murmur of assent.

Riccardo had gone very still. The long-fingered hand on the table was clenched tight. His eyes looked black with an odd blind look in them as if a ravine had suddenly opened in front of him.

His director sent him a quick, enquiring look. Riccardo ignored him.

‘How long?’ he said at last. He spoke directly to Rachel. His tone was sharper than any he had used so far.

Rachel looked unseeingly down at the papers. She had not the slightest idea. She took a blind stab at a time.

‘Three hours.’

He looked incredulous. ‘You’ll have proposals in three hours?’

Rachel thought, I have proposals now. You’re not the only one who knows something has got to be done about this place. But I need time to convince Philip.

She said calmly, ‘I believe so.’

It seemed as if everyone in the room was holding his breath. At last Riccardo di Stefano nodded.

‘OK. Same place.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Two-thirty.’

He stood up. Everyone else did the same. As if he were an emperor, thought Rachel. She was not even trying to curb her hostility now. But still she somehow found herself on her feet too. That infuriated her.

Across the room, Riccardo di Stefano looked at her. His dark eyes measured her as if he had only just become aware of her. She thought she saw faint contempt and put a hand to her loose hair self-consciously. His eyes narrowed. Something in that basilisk regard brought Rachel to attention as if she were facing a court martial.

‘I look forward to your ideas,’ he said softly.

Something light as a feather, deadly as a cobra, slid up the back of Rachel’s neck. She managed not to shudder, but only just. Instead she gave him a bland smile.

‘I hope to surprise you.’

He laughed aloud at that. ‘I’m sure you do. But I have to warn you a lot of guys have tried.’

And failed, was the implication.

Rachel said, ‘I like a challenge.’

Riccardo di Stefano stopped laughing. The look he gave her was pure speculation.

‘So do I,’ he said softly. ‘So do I. Maybe we’re both going to learn something from this.’

CHAPTER TWO

AS THE door closed behind Riccardo di Stefano, Philip sank back in his seat. He looked ill, Rachel thought with compassion. Beads of sweat were etching out a mask on his face. She was not the only one to notice.

‘Better let Rachel run with this one, Phil,’ said Henry Ockenden, the head of lending.

Philip waved a hand vaguely. Rachel took this as agreement. It looked as if he was not going to need much convincing after all. She got up.

‘I’ll be in my office. I’ll get briefing to you by two at the latest,’ she said.

She gathered up her papers and went.

Mandy was at her desk in the outer office. She raised her eyebrows as Rachel steamed past.

‘Fireworks?’

‘As you predicted,’ said Rachel.

‘Di Stefano on the attack?’

‘And then some,’ said Rachel with feeling. ‘Call the group; I want a meeting in twenty minutes. Everyone to have a copy of these.’ She dumped di Stefano’s papers on Mandy’s desk.

Mandy picked them up and took them to the photocopier.

‘Is di Stefano as gorgeous as they say?’ she said, pressing buttons briskly.

The copier warmed into life.

‘Worse,’ said Rachel crisply.

She turned away. Mandy was too observant. Rachel did not want the other woman to detect that this was not the first time she had had the opportunity to observe at close quarters how gorgeous he was. Or that she would give anything not to remember how gorgeous.

Rachel gave an angry little sigh. Riccardo di Stefano had obviously had no trouble forgetting. So why couldn’t she?

Mandy, at the photocopier, was not detecting anything, fortunately. She laughed. ‘He looks a heartbreaker all right.’

Rachel stiffened imperceptibly. Not turning round, she said casually over her shoulder, ‘I thought you hadn’t met him.’

‘No.’ It was not hard to discern Mandy’s regret at this fact. ‘He had his mug shot in the papers yesterday. Taking Sandy Marquis out on the town.’

‘Sandy Marquis?’ The name was vaguely familiar. Then she remembered. ‘The model, you mean? The redhead discovered teaching gym to schoolgirls?’

‘That’s the one.’ Mandy looked at Rachel speculatively. ‘He seems to go for redheads.’

‘He goes for anything female that doesn’t run too fast,’ muttered Rachel unwarily.