Champagne Summer: At the Argentinean Billionaire's Bidding / Powerful Italian, Penniless Housekeeper. India Grey
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on the table into a china cup. ‘Oh dear,’ he drawled. ‘Well, you’d better get over the artistic-diva tantrums, because by tomorrow morning every paper is going to be carrying the story of how England’s up and coming celebrity designer is off to Argentina to work her creative magic on the Pumas.’ He turned back to her, leaning against the table as he took a thoughtful sip of coffee. ‘Unless of course you’d like me to call some contacts and tell them you’ve reconsidered—’
‘Argentina?’ Her eyes widened in horror, ‘Who said anything about Argentina?’
For a split second she looked so scared that Alejandro almost felt sorry for her. Almost. But the memory of what she’d done to him six years ago burned like his split lip. It was her turn to be sorry now.
‘Did you really think I would bring the whole team over here? That may be how people in Tamsin’s world usually operate, but you’re going to have to get used to a whole new way of doing things, sweetheart.’
Watching her eyes darken from emerald to the dark, opaque green of yew trees in winter, he waited for the storm to break. He had seen from the little firework display last night when she’d tried to hit him that Lady Tamsin had a formidable temper, and wondered what she would do now. Scream? Throw something? Or turn to Daddy for help?
She tilted her chin, her blistering hostility cleverly cloaked in ice-cold nonchalance. Alejandro was grudgingly impressed at her restraint.
‘Why are you doing this to me?’
‘To you?’ he said very quietly. ‘Oh no, Tamsin, I’m doing it for you. I’m giving you a chance to prove yourself. I’m giving you a chance to showcase your talents and seal your reputation. You should be grateful. I thought you liked a challenge.’
She laughed softly then, almost as if she was relieved. It sounded breathy and musical. ‘I get it. You think that I’ve had my hand held and all the hard work done for me here, don’t you? You think that I’m going to be absolutely clueless out there on my own, and you just can’t wait to watch me fail.’ She looked up at him, her soft, pink mouth curved into a smile. ‘Well, Alejandro, I won’t fail. I did it all myself, and I can do it again—better, more easily this time—so, if you’re dragging me over to the other side of the world just so you can have the pleasure of watching me screw up, you’re wasting your time.’
‘Fighting talk. Very impressive,’ he drawled sardonically. ‘But I warn you, Tamsin, this isn’t a game. This isn’t like last night, where you can flirt and seduce your way through when the going gets tough. This is work.’
A rosy tide flooded her cheeks and the smile evaporated instantly. ‘And you’re the boss, right?’ she said with quiet venom. ‘Good. I’m so glad we got that straight, because if you so much as lay a finger on me I’ll have you for sexual harassment faster than you can say “hotshot lawyer”.’
Before Alejandro could respond, a member of the grounds team in an England tracksuit and baseball cap had appeared beside them, looking anxious. ‘Miss Calthorpe?’ he said nervously. ‘The photographer’s ready to start the photo-shoot down on the pitch. But, er, unfortunately we seem to be missing one shirt …’
For a moment she didn’t move. And then, still keeping her gaze fixed to his, she said, ‘Thank you. I’m bringing it right now.’
Alejandro smiled as much as his swollen lip would allow. ‘A car will come for you tomorrow morning,’ he said with exaggerated courtesy. ‘Please be ready by eleven o’clock.’
‘Tomorrow? But—’ She stopped abruptly, visibly struggling to rein in the furious protest that had sprung to her lips. Finally, pressing her lips together, she gave a curt nod and turned on her heel to follow the grounds official.
Alejandro watched her go, her narrow back ramrod-straight, her blonde head held very high. She was hanging onto that fiery temper by a thread, he thought wryly. She seemed very confident that she could handle the professional aspect of the next couple of weeks—but how would she do on the personal? Would the spoiled little diva be able to cope?
He waited until she was almost at the door before calling, ‘Oh—and Tamsin?’
She turned, her face set into a mask of politeness. ‘Yes, Mr D’Arienzo? Or, now I’m working for you, should I call you “sir”?’
‘Alejandro is fine. We’ll be flying on my private jet tomorrow. It’s only a small plane, so bring one bag only, please. I know what women are like for packing ridiculous amounts of unnecessary clothes.’
The look she shot him was ice-cool. ‘You’re saying clothes will be unnecessary? Careful, Mr D’Arienzo—this is business, remember?’
And then she was gone. Alejandro was left staring after her, his coffee cooling in his hand, his mind swirling with disturbing thoughts of Tamsin Calthorpe sprawled naked on the leather seats of his jet, and the unwelcome suspicion that she’d just scored some victory over him.
He’d take her advice. He would be careful.
He had an uneasy feeling that this was going to be a whole lot more trouble than he’d bargained for.
CHAPTER SIX
‘ONE bag! How the hell am I supposed to get everything I need into one stupid bag?’ Wedging the phone against her shoulder, Tamsin picked up a soft jacket, the colour of dark chocolate, and looked at it longingly. ‘Should I take my army coat or the brown cashmere jacket?’
‘Cashmere,’ said Serena firmly. ‘The other one makes you look like you’re in the Hitler Youth. So, tell me, how’s Daddy about all this?’
‘Well, that’s another annoying thing, actually. He’s furious. Which is particularly unfair, considering he knows I had absolutely no choice.’
She squashed the jacket onto the top of her already bulging leather holdall. It was half-past ten, and the bedroom looked like the scene of a police raid, with drawers pulled open and spilling out silken wisps of underwear, cardigans and dresses in every colour.
‘Darling, since when has Pa been rational where his best beloved daughter is concerned? He thought he’d dealt with this problem once and for all, so you can’t blame him for being a bit fed up.’
‘What?’ said Tamsin vaguely, looking around the room. ‘Do you think three sweaters will be enough?’
‘Sweaters?’ There was a long silence at the other end of the phone. Eventually Serena said in a strangled voice, ‘Tamsin, just run by me what else you’ve packed.’
Tamsin picked up a thick leather belt with a heavy jewelled buckle and threw it back into a drawer. ‘Look, I know you’re going to say that I should take lots of dressy stuff, and that Alejandro Playboy D’Arienzo probably holds A-list parties every night or whatever, but I don’t care, because I’m not getting involved in any of that. I’m not interested in him. I’m there to work.’
‘It’s not that. Just tell me you haven’t packed for winter? Darling, it’s the height of summer over there just now. The temperature is in the thirties!’
In the middle of the chaos Tamsin stopped and went very still, her mouth suddenly dry. Her eyes darted to the big, old-fashioned schoolroom clock on the wall by the window, and then to the miserable London greyness outside. She gave a small whimper.
‘Oh, God. Oh, no! I didn’t think …”
‘OK. Don’t panic. Let’s be rational about this. First you have to take everything out of the bag.’
‘Everything out,’ repeated Tamsin desperately, pulling out armfuls of cashmere and wool and trying not to cry. ‘OK. Now wh—?’
She stopped suddenly as she heard the sound of a car engine in the mews below.
He wasn’t due for another fifteen minutes yet, and surely he wouldn’t be so inconsiderate as to—?