The Flaw In Raffaele's Revenge. Annie West
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do was work towards her goals. Success, security, self-sufficiency. That was what she wanted. Not jostling with commuters or being a drone in a corporation. Or hankering after places she’d never visit.
‘Lily, you can’t have considered. At least think about it.’
‘I have, Pete, but the answer is no. I’m happy here.’
* * *
At first she thought the chirruping noise was the dawn chorus. Each morning magpies and cockatoos greeted the first light. But this was too monotone, too persistent. Groaning, Lily opened her eyes. It was still night.
Pulse thundering, she groped for the phone. No one rang at this time unless it was an emergency.
‘Hello?’ She struggled to sit up, shoving her pillow behind her back.
‘Ms Lily Nolan?’
The pulse that an instant ago had sprinted in her arteries gave a single mighty thump. The deep male voice was foreign, rich and dark like a shot of espresso.
She groped for the bedside light and squinted at her watch. Minutes to midnight. No wonder she felt groggy. She’d only slept half an hour.
‘Who’s speaking?’
‘Raffaele Petri.’
Raffaele Petri!
To her sleep-addled senses that voice sounded like liquid seduction. She frowned and pulled the neck of her sleep shirt closed. Male voices didn’t affect her that way. But then how many sounded like this?
‘Are you still there?’
‘Of course I’m here. I’ve just woken up.’
‘Mi dispiace.’ I’m sorry.
He didn’t sound sorry. He sounded...
Lily shook her head. If it was Raffaele Petri this was business. She couldn’t afford to think about how potently male he sounded. Even if her hormones were dancing at the sound of that deliciously accented voice.
‘Signor Petri—’ She raked her hair from her face, shuffling higher in the bed. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘Sign the contract and get here subito.’
Lily choked down her instinctive response. The only place she was going subito, immediately, was back to sleep.
‘That’s impossible.’
‘Nonsense. It’s the only sensible course of action.’
Lily breathed deep, letting the chilly night air fill her lungs as she sought calm. He wasn’t only her client, he was her most important client.
‘Did you hear me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. When you’ve arranged your flight give my assistant the details. He’ll organise for you to be met at the airport.’
This must be how Renaissance Italian princes had sounded. As if every word they spoke was law. Imagine having such confidence you’d always get what you desired.
‘Thank you, but I won’t be contacting Pete.’ She cleared her throat, her voice still husky from sleep. ‘I was very flattered by your offer, Signor Petri, but I prefer working for myself.’
‘You’re turning me down?’ His soft voice raised the hairs on the back of her neck.
Had anyone ever denied Raffaele Petri what he wanted?
Lily’s heart thudded. She was on dangerous ground.
Widely touted as the most beautiful man in the world, he’d become famous as the golden-haired, outrageously handsome face, and body, that had turned designer casual into a style men around the globe aspired to emulate. No doubt he’d had women saying yes all his life.
But he had far more than looks. After leaving modelling he’d defied the critics and proven himself über-successful in business. Wealthy and powerful, Raffaele Petri was clearly used to instant compliance.
‘I’m very flattered by the offer—’
‘But?’ That purr of enquiry barely concealed a razor-sharp edge.
Lily drew in a slow breath. ‘Unfortunately I’m not in a position to accept.’
Silence. Long enough for her to wonder if she’d burned her bridges. Fear skated through her. She needed the work his company sent.
‘What would have to change so you’d be in a position to accept?’
Damn the man. Why couldn’t he just accept no?
‘May I ask instead why you want me?’ For a nanosecond heat surged at the unintentional double meaning of her words. But the idea of Raffaele Petri wanting her for anything other than work was so utterly unbelievable it rapidly faded. ‘I was told you were happy with my research and our current arrangement.’
‘If I were unhappy with your work I wouldn’t offer you a job, Ms Nolan.’ His clipped tones twisted her tension higher. ‘I want you here on my team because you’re the best at what you do. Simple as that.’
The heat suffusing her this time came from gratification.
‘Thank you, Signor Petri. I appreciate your good opinion.’ She’d love to ask about a testimonial but the throbbing silence told her this wasn’t the time. ‘Please know I’ll continue to offer the best possible service.’ She wriggled back against the pillow.
‘That’s not enough.’
‘Sorry?’ What more could he want than her best?
‘I’m starting a significant project.’ He paused. ‘I need my team on hand and bound by the utmost confidentiality.’
Lily stiffened. ‘I hope you’re not implying I’m a security risk. Every contract I accept is completed in strictest confidence. I safeguard my research and my clients.’ She never shared details of clients without permission. Which was why it would have been a coup to have a testimonial from him on her website.
She’d begun as a researcher for a private enquiry firm but the cases got her down. She’d found her niche when she widened her horizons—from staff checks to analyses of businesses and commercial trends. Lately it had been the viability of new ventures or businesses ripe for takeover.
That was where Raffaele Petri came in. The man was like a shark scenting blood before his competitors. Every time she investigated a business for him she’d discovered vulnerabilities and problems. It was the magic of the man that, once he acquired them, he turned those businesses into some of the most successful in the leisure industry, from a glamorous resort in Tahiti to a marina and yacht-building company in Turkey.
‘If I doubted your ability to keep a secret I wouldn’t hire you.’
Lily released a breath, relief rising.
‘But,’ he added, ‘I can’t afford risks. This team will be the best of the best. And it will be in New York. I need you here.’
Pride swelled. Lily had never been needed. Never stood out. Looks, school grades, sport, she’d always been average, never in the limelight until—
Lily shook her head in self-disgust at that old neediness. It was a spill over from her teenage years when she’d felt no one really wanted her, that to her family she was only a burden and a worry. And to her friends an embarrassing, constant reminder of a disaster they’d rather forget. She’d hated that awareness of being included out of duty rather than because her peers wanted her around.
His words made her long to say, Yes, of course, I’ll be in New York tomorrow.
Imagine exploring the Big Apple. Imagine...
She swallowed hard. It wasn’t possible. Facing the curious eyes of all those strangers, seeing them stare in fascination or hurriedly turn away. She wouldn’t