The Cost Of The Forbidden. Carol Marinelli

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The Cost Of The Forbidden - Carol  Marinelli


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my boss keeps disappearing on me. Just what exactly are you doing in Rome?’ Hell, she ran his diary, booked his flights, arranged his schedule and, Naomi knew damn well that he wasn’t supposed to be there.

      ‘You want to know exactly?’ Sev checked.

      Naomi closed her eyes. She knew, of course, that it would be about a woman.

      And that was why she was being so testy. Naomi, more than anything, loathed confrontation, or rather she could not stand to be the one who brought things to the boil. In fact, she actually wanted Sev to fire her. It would be better than having to resign later today.

      ‘I mean, why are you in Rome?’ Naomi said. ‘I’m just trying to work out what to tell Sheikh Allem.’

      ‘Well, I guess it just seemed a good idea at the time.’

      ‘And I guess that time was Saturday night.’

      ‘You know me so well. I was at a party and—’

      ‘I’ve changed my mind,’ Naomi snapped. ‘I don’t need to know. I’ll come up with something for Allem.’

      ‘You’re sounding very English,’ Sev said. ‘Work something out. Oh, and can you organise some flowers from me?’

      Naomi closed her eyes.

      ‘If you can send two dozen white roses...’

      He really didn’t need to tell her that—it was always the same routine with Sev.

      On a Monday Naomi would arrange flowers for whoever he had seen over the weekend. Around Wednesday he might ask her to organise a hotel for the following one.

      The next Monday it might be a case of more flowers but generally he’d lost interest by then.

      ‘What’s her name?’ Naomi asked, as she reached for her pen. ‘And what message do you want?’

      ‘Actually,’ Sev said, ‘don’t worry about the flowers. Apart from Allem, am I missing out on anything else?’

      ‘Just a scheduled beginning-of-the-month meeting with me.’ She had been going to tell him then that she was resigning.

      Sev was silent.

      ‘It’s November,’ Naomi said.

      ‘I know that.’

      ‘I’m just checking that you do.’

      ‘Anything else?’

      ‘No, everything was cleared for Allem.’

      ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can. Tell Allem...’ He thought for a moment. ‘Just tell him what you have to and if he acts up remind him he’s the one who wants to see me.’

      He didn’t say goodbye, he simply rang off, and, no, Naomi thought, she wouldn’t miss this part of the job—reorganising his schedule at a moment’s notice and letting people down. At least that was how it felt to her. His clients didn’t seem to mind in the least. That he was unattainable made him all the more desirable. The more elusive he was the more in demand he became.

      ‘Bloody Sev,’ Naomi grumbled, then sank back on her pillows to enjoy a rare lie-in.

      There was no need to rush in now. She could work here for a couple of hours, so she lay back and waited for sunrise and thought about what she was about to do.

      Most would say she was mad to give up such an amazing job and all the perks that came with it.

      For the past three months Naomi had been telling herself the same.

      Yet she was fast learning that location, location didn’t equate to happiness. A designer wardrobe and manicured nails and a fabulous haircut didn’t magically put the world to rights.

      On sight she had fallen for Sev.

      Hard.

      And, like her many predecessors, Naomi knew how futile hoping for anything other than the briefest of flings with him would be.

      She should get out before she succumbed, Naomi had decided. She was already conflicted enough, trying to forge some sort of relationship with her father as well as ending things with Andrew.

      A temporary fling with Sev she certainly didn’t need, for though it might be temporary for him, an encounter of the sexual kind, Naomi knew, would add a permanent tattoo to her heart.

      He wasn’t cold at all. In fact, sometimes it felt as if he had been put on this earth with the sole reason to make her smile.

      Which he did.

      A lot.

      He was inappropriate, yes.

      But he was no more inappropriate than her own thoughts.

      The chair in his office still felt battery operated.

      His voice made her stomach curl.

      And as for emotionless...

      Whether he was or he wasn’t, he brought out all of her emotions effortlessly.

      The morning was arriving and it looked crisp and clear from the warmth of bed. Somebody must have been out with a paintbrush last night for Central Park was a rich palette of burnt reds and oranges and she wondered what it might look like to lie in bed in winter with the bedroom fire lit, looking out at the trees stripped bare and heavy with snow.

      She wasn’t going to be here to find out.

      And she would tell him so today.

       CHAPTER TWO

      THE VIEW WAS just as impressive on Sev’s part of the planet.

      Not that he saw much of it.

      He wore dark glasses and the tinted windows of the hotel’s black Mercedes blocked out the midday sun as he called Naomi while being driven to his plane.

      Sev looked out briefly at the sights of Rome as he was driven through the busy streets. He’d possibly get there quicker if he jumped on a moped but, though cross with himself for sleeping in and thus being so late for Allem, he wasn’t about to go to such extremes.

      Instead he had pulled out his phone and decided that Naomi would just have to fix things.

      She wasn’t best pleased with him but a moody PA he did not need so he snapped off the phone, relieved as his car pulled onto the tarmac near his waiting plane. What the hell had possessed him to call out his crew on a Saturday night to fly here when now he couldn’t even remember her name?

      It wasn’t as if it was for sex that he’d gone to such extremes. Sex had been taken care of long before they’d boarded.

      And it hadn’t been about conversation—he wasn’t particularly fluent in Italian.

      Sev wasn’t feeling very good about another reckless night and he certainly didn’t need Reverend Sister Naomi’s silent tsk tsk of disapproval.

      Shannon, his flight attendant, greeted him and knew him well enough to wait and ask how he wanted his coffee before making it.

      It varied.

      ‘Long and black,’ Sev said, taking off his jacket. ‘With one sugar.’ He took a seat but by the time he had Sev had already changed his mind and called Shannon back.

      ‘A strong latte, two sugars.’

      Maybe the milk would help his stomach but Sev knew he was, thanks to Naomi, suffering from a rare spasm of guilt.

      He liked Allem and his wife and knew that they were in New York primarily to catch up with him as, thanks to the excuse of work commitments, Sev had declined their last two invitations to visit them in Dubai.

      It had been Allem who had given him his first break.

      Sev’s


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