Valenti's One-Month Mistress. Sabrina Philips
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to tire of waiting for her to answer. She was glad.
‘It was fortunate that you were offered opportunities elsewhere, in spite of having come straight from me.’
‘Not everyone is such as Neanderthal as you, Dante. Some men do not consider a woman’s virginity the only thing she has to offer,’ she bit out, furious at his assumptions, and even more furious that she had never brought herself to take up any such opportunities, as he put it, on the occasions when they had come her way. But what would have been the point? She hadn’t even once got close to feeling anything like she had felt that afternoon with anyone. Until she had walked into his office again today, she thought wretchedly.
‘Faye, do not misinterpret me. I meant opportunities in the business world. Not many people walk out on a contract with Valenti Enterprises and are still offered work elsewhere.’
Bastard, she thought. Like hell you meant that. And as for business opportunities—those that had come her way since, she had had to turn down for the sake of Matteson’s. Faye felt all the tension in her shoulders return as she put down her spoon.
‘Champagne to finish, I think. A toast to my new…right-hand woman for a month.’
Faye gritted her teeth. There was no reason to refuse. She had sold her soul to the devil. If she was worried about losing her head, it was too late.
As he chinked his glass against her own, the blood in her veins slowed to a more languorous pace, no less insistent. She wished she had brought her faux pashmina to cover herself from that penetrating gaze which lingered upon her as she took a sip. Did he want her? He hated her, wanted to ruin her—she knew that. But she also knew that was not an issue he’d have difficulty putting aside if he did. The bubbles fizzed on her tongue. She took a deep breath as the alcohol reached her bloodstream, making her more conscious of her surroundings. Two days ago she had woken up to face a day like any other at the restaurant: vacant tables, piles of bills, tired décor, tired people. And now here she was, sitting in Perfezione, the antithesis of her life back home. Surrounded by so much luxury, so much life, in a restaurant where it took months just to secure a booking. Unless you happened to be accompanying the man who had haunted her dreams to this day. For a moment she wondered if she had conjured up this whole scene in her imagination.
‘I will have a contract drawn up, which you can sign tomorrow.’
No, not a dream. She nodded reluctantly. He was the devil in disguise. So she had no choice but to stay, but she did not have to stay here. She would return to the guesthouse. Even if it meant having to put it on a credit card and negotiate the busy metro every morning, she needed her escape.
‘Excuse me.’ Faye caught the attention of a passing waiter, ignoring Dante as he stiffened. ‘Please could you order me a taxi to Piazza Indipendenza? Grazie.’
‘That won’t be necessary, Michele. I will drive Miss Matteson. Thank you,’ Dante interjected, almost before she had even finished. The waiter was dismissed instantly and was so professional that not a hint of perplexity crossed his face.
‘You’ve been drinking. You’re not driving me anywhere!’ Faye made no effort to tone down the volume of her anger now. She had had enough of this rollercoaster of emotions. One minute he was masquerading as a reasonable human being, and the next he was verging on the tyrannical.
‘I’m glad you agree. I will not be driving you anywhere, because we have established that you will stay here—have we not?’
‘I have agreed to work for you. Where I stay has no bearing upon that. I will make sure I am on time, if that is your concern.’
‘That is not my concern, and it shall not be yours either. Living here is as much part of your experience as your work here during the day. It is not up for debate.’
No, nothing he decided was up for debate, was it? And no wonder, when his world was full of people pandering to his every need, treating his every word like the Holy Grail. But whilst he might get her diffident agreement, he would not have this ridiculous facade of civility any longer. She would get on with what she was here to do, and spend as little time in his company as possible.
‘I wish to go to bed. I had a late flight.’
‘Bed? Why, you should have said earlier.’ He rose, his hand moving to her elbow and his mouth lifting into a lazy lopsided grin that was at odds with the brooding intensity she had seen on his face for most of the day.
How was he allowed to look so good when he was so damned unscrupulous? She tried not to notice. She had allowed him to trample over her youthful emotions wearing that sexy smile once before, and she was not going to let him do it again.
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