Valenti's One-Month Mistress. Sabrina Philips
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her to make even one complete step in the direction of the door. Before she knew what was happening he had blocked the entire movement of her body with the powerful grasp of one large, lean hand on her small wrist. Faye caught her breath.
‘Leaving again so soon?’ His voice was as mocking as before, only now it was cold and devoid of all humour. Faye was paralysed. ‘Yet again you have done what you came for, but not waited to hear what I have to say. What a surprise.’ The feel of his touch set her nerves skittering, enflaming her in places beyond the small area he touched.
‘You have something else to say?’ Her eyes were questioning, and suddenly she was the Faye of six years ago, her heart longing for some explanation to undo all the pain.
‘The location is excellent.’
Dante released his grip on her wrist and moved back to lean against the desk. His words were like a fog and she searched within them for some hidden meaning, rooted to the spot despite the absence of his grasp.
‘Wh…what?’
‘You have not asked me outright whether I am interested in any aspect of your proposal—another business faux pas, you understand. As you rightly interpreted, I have no interest in funding Matteson’s. There is, however, something that I do find extremely desirable.’ Faye’s head was reeling. ‘The restaurant is in an exceptional location. It is in an outskirt of London I have been hoping to expand in for some time. I might consider buying the site for a very reasonable sum of money, if that is on offer.’
Swivelling round to face him, she felt things begin to fall into place in her mind. So that was why he had agreed to see her. She swallowed hard. It was his intention to finish her off completely, to usurp her family business with another Michelin-starred Valenti enterprise like the one in central London that she had taken pains to avoid for the last six years—not that she could afford to do anything but walk past. Hadn’t he conquered enough already?
‘Over my dead body. It is not for sale.’
‘Not yet, perhaps.’ He was smiling now, and it infuriated her. ‘But I’ll wait.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Ahh—of course. How could I forget that waiting is a virtue that so eludes you, Faye? What I mean is I’m guessing it won’t be long before it is for sale.’
Faye felt the colour rise hotly in her cheeks, as much at the accusation of loose morals he had just made as at the realisation of just how much he knew. For Dante was not the kind of man who guessed anything. He hadn’t become a billionaire by burying his head in the sand. He clearly knew more about the financial state of Matteson’s than she had originally thought, and it wasn’t because of any distant interest he might have had in the restaurant, or in her. It was because he had seen an opportunity for himself. The thought was like a waterfall of ice down her spine. So now, if their profits failed to increase, Matteson’s wouldn’t just slowly fade away. He would be there to launch his brutal takeover attack.
‘Well, it looks like I’ll have to try my powers of persuasion elsewhere, doesn’t it?’ she retorted, raising her eyebrows and flashing him a smile right back. She would not let him have the satisfaction of thinking this was a fait accompli. So what if he had been her last possible resort? There was no harm in calling his bluff. Faye saw the wave of anger that momentarily crossed his face disappear as quickly as it had come. She suspected it was a rare thing for a woman to refuse him whatever it was he had set out to get.
‘Perhaps we can come to some arrangement,’ he ground out.
‘Meaning what, exactly?’
‘A compromise, of sorts.’
Faye doubted he knew the meaning of the word.
Suddenly the intercom in the middle of the room burst into life. ‘I am sorry to interrupt you, Mr Valenti, but Mr Castillo from the Madrid office is on the line, and he says it’s urgent.’
Dante swooped down to the device on the desk. ‘Thank you, Julietta. Please ask him if he would be so kind as to hold for just a few minutes. I am almost finished here.’
‘Of course.’ The woman’s voice was silky, reverent. As hers must have once been, Faye thought wretchedly. She could not help shuddering at the seductive way in which he had spoken the woman’s name in return, the compassionate response that suggested he was actually something other than a cold, calculating bastard. Something like jealousy coursed through her veins, and she hated herself for it.
‘Where are you staying?’
‘Sorry?’ His question caught her unawares.
‘In Rome—where are you staying?’
‘At a guesthouse near the airport. Not that it’s any concern of yours.’
‘No, you’re not. I will have someone collect your bags, and my driver will take you to Il Maia.’
Il Maia? What was he talking about? She had never wanted to see Rome again, let alone his hotel. Now he had made it clear he had no intention of helping her, she planned to catch the next flight home. ‘Even if I could afford to stay at Il Maia, it won’t be necessary. I fly home tonight.’
His voice was dangerously low. ‘No, you won’t, Faye. Unless you want to sit back and watch the remains of your family’s business crumble around you. I am willing to reconsider your proposal—on my terms. I will be in the hotel bar at eight, and we will discuss this over dinner.’ He spoke matter-of-factly, as if the prospect could not be more unappealing. ‘Since I recall that you never fulfilled the duration of your previous stay, I will kindly overlook the cost.’ He motioned towards the door. ‘I have more pressing business now. Julietta will show you out.’
‘I am not agreeing to this when all you’ve told me so far is that you wouldn’t touch my proposal with a bargepole!’ she exclaimed, incensed by both the idea of returning to Il Maia and the prospect of spending an entire evening in his company. For one thing, she hated the thought that she might feel indebted to him, and for another, the emotions he had evoked in her during this short meeting alone quite frankly terrified her. But he was already on the intercom, telling Julietta to arrange a driver, and to put through the call from Madrid.
‘Give me one good reason why I should consent to your ridiculous proposition!’ she fired out helplessly, her eyes burning with defiance.
Dante took a deep breath and turned to face her, shaking his head patronisingly. ‘Because your consent is not a requirement, Miss Matteson. You will do what I tell you because I am going to make you an offer that you can’t refuse, and because if you don’t I’ll ruin you.’
And with that he switched into perfect Spanish, and continued with his call.
Dante replaced the phone in its receiver, having rectified Castillo’s supplier crisis without issue. Faye had stormed from the room the instant he’d turned his attention away from her, exactly as he’d anticipated. It was not the first time a woman had left his office sulking when things had not gone her way, and he doubted it would be the last. And yet, as he glanced at the chair where she had been sitting, he had to admit that he had been wrong about one thing. She had practically refrained from looking him in the eye for the entire meeting. The only time she had met his gaze had been when she was being bloody defiant about the dire financial state of her restaurant, and then she had looked away again just as quickly. It frustrated the hell out of him. Did she think she could fool him all over again with that feigned look of modesty?
But she had been innocent last time, hadn’t she? a voice piped up in the back of his mind. It was accompanied by something else that felt disturbingly like guilt but which he refused to give any such name to. For her apparently artless innocence—which had to have been the trigger for the uncontrollable attraction she had once awakened in him—had lasted all of about five minutes! Yes, she had soon proved just how keen she was to rid herself of the burden of her virginity before moving on to her next victim. How long had it been? Two weeks after