Unwordly Secretary, Gorgeous Boss: Secretary Mistress, Convenient Wife / The Boss's Unconventional Assistant / The Boss's Forbidden Secretary. Lee Wilkinson
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afterwards just a few select friends of Fabian’s had been invited to a discreetly located restaurant for the wedding supper.
But the future she faced was no romantic walk into the sunset with the man she adored. Despite his amorous attentions and apparent concern for her welfare, Fabian had not married Laura because he loved her. He had married her because he desperately wanted an heir and she was the most suitable candidate.
Now, with just a sheet to cover her, she sat on the edge of the fabulous bed in their room and tried hard to put her thoughts in order. Events had run away with her, and it was time to take a good look at exactly what she’d done. From now on she was no longer ‘anonymous’ Laura Greenwood, but Signora Moritzzoni of the fabulous Villa de Rosa. Her husband was a wealthy and influential man who commanded respect in this part of the world where he came from—where a family’s name and lineage was everything. Laura would bear his children, and to all intents and purposes be his partner, but she could not expect ever to receive his love or devotion in return.
Her stomach plunged at the thought. Her feelings for him made the whole idea of this marriage of convenience a farce. How long could she keep up the charade of containing them when that was clearly not what Fabian wanted or expected? After the experience she’d literally only just survived with Mark, why had she been so utterly reckless as to dance so close to the volcano’s edge again? The answer was that she’d married Fabian because after the trauma of the past few years she still dared to dream that a bright future might be hers. He wasn’t anything like Mark … She knew that. There was something special about him that was nothing to do with wealth, status, talent or even the extraordinary beauty he possessed that would stop any woman in her tracks.
And, although it grieved Laura that he had referred to the proposed trip to Rome as a ‘short holiday’, and not the romantic honeymoon she secretly longed for it to be, she was determined to take each day at a time and cherish that dream of hers no matter what.
‘I don’t have any reservations. It’s just that after last night—’
‘Last night was beautiful.’
With a grin that was part cat-that-got-the-cream and part unashamed seducer, Fabian was suddenly in front of her, urging her to her feet. He teasingly kissed the tip of her nose, his hypnotic azure gaze and clean masculine smell sending shivers of appreciation and want cascading through Laura’s body all over again.
‘We didn’t get much sleep—I know that!’ Trying to delicately extricate herself, when his hands were busy impelling her hips towards his, she grabbed hold of the sheet and held it fast, so that there was no danger of it slipping down.
‘It was our wedding night … did you really expect to sleep?’ he mocked gently.
‘Perhaps not … but right now I need some time to relax and get my head together. I feel almost dizzy with all that’s happened!’
‘Well, Signora Moritzzoni … we will breakfast on the terrace by the orangerie, and you can take all the time you want to think about events. Yesterday went well, no?’
‘Yes … it went very well.’
‘And there is nothing worrying you?’
‘Only that you don’t regret what we’ve done? Getting married, I mean? What if you meet somebody you really fall in love with, Fabian? Have you thought of that? You might grow to resent tying yourself to me then!’
‘You are such a foolish little romantic, my sweet Laura!’
Even though his words pierced her heart, Fabian’s glance was unmistakably tender in that indelible moment when he cupped her face between his hands and gazed into her eyes.
‘There is no possibility of any such thing happening to me. I know exactly what I am doing, and why, and I do not regret a thing! I told you before that emotions are not to be trusted, and I stand by that statement. In time I do not doubt that you and I will become good friends … we are already lovers … and when we have our children we will have a marriage based on a solid foundation of friendship and respect—not something built on a precarious little love affair that fizzled out after just a few weeks or months!’
Laura was silent, even though his disbelief in love stung worse than the sharpened points of a thousand swords digging into her flesh. Was he destined to be cynical about love for the rest of his life because of his ex-wife’s behaviour? She wanted to ask him more about his past and her, but she sensed it was a topic he wouldn’t readily discuss. She had brought shame on him, he had told her, and now there was a wall in him because of it … a wall that sooner or later she would have to crack if their future lives together had any chance of success at all. She made herself change the subject. ‘By the way … regarding my return to work. I want to look for a post teaching music to children fairly soon. I’ve been away from it too long since the accident and I need to get back to doing what I love. You said you would respect my wishes about this.’
‘Of course.’ Moving even closer, Fabian lifted a few strands of her wheat-gold hair and just stared at them as if contemplating something profound. But then his gaze sank back into hers once again and made Laura’s breath catch. ‘It will not be a problem. You have my promise that you may work up until such time as you are pregnant with my child. But after that … the situation will have to be reviewed. Agreed?’
At the idea of falling pregnant with her husband’s child, Laura’s stomach fluttered half with joy and half with fear. Having Fabian’s baby would bind her to him with love even more … how could it not? One day he would realise that she loved him and what then? Her mouth was suddenly so dry that she could barely speak her answer. ‘Agreed.’
‘And the perfect teaching post for you will not be hard to find. I have a lot of contacts in both the arts and in other areas of education and you will soon be doing the work you love again.’
‘That would please me but …’ Hectic colour swam into Laura’s cheeks at the almost ‘predatory’ way Fabian was suddenly regarding her and she deliberately pulled her glance from his, determined to finish what she was saying. ‘I don’t want any special favours. I’d like to win the right position on my own merit. Not because you used your influence in any way! Now I need to shower and dress. I’ve lingered here too long and I—Stop looking at me like that!’
‘You seriously expect me not to be aroused when I know you are naked under that sheet? If so … you attribute to me powers of self-control I do not possess where you are concerned! After the intensity of pleasure last night, my body cannot help craving yours again! I mean it as a compliment. You are a very desirable woman with all the womanly attributes a man could want … and try as I might, I cannot resist the hot demand that burns in my blood for you!’
Before Laura could gather her wits, his lips seared hers in a kiss that completely obliterated the flimsy vestiges of her resistance as though it was nothing at all and she found herself clinging to him with an un-contained moan of longing and delight as he stripped away the sheet she wore and let it drift to the floor in a soft burgundy pool at her feet.…
Rome—noisy, beautiful, vibrant—descriptions were legendary and myriad and it was one of Fabian’s favourite cities in the world. He had an apartment in the Piazza Navona that overlooked the impressive fountain of Neptune. Fashionably decorated but with its fair share of faded grandeur in keeping with the building’s age—it was a place that had no associations with his father whatsoever. When Fabian had left Tuscany to go to university to study art—he had gone to Rome. His first taste of freedom—it had held an affectionate place in his heart ever since. Now he wanted to show what it had to offer to Laura—the woman who was now his wife. A memory came to him as they strolled together down the narrow bustling side streets that led away from the piazza—a memory of tears glistening in her beautiful eyes when they had been listening to that young tenor singing. He had reached for her hand to comfort her because he’d intuited that the sorrow in her was a deep, far-reaching river and the singer’s voice had merely been a catalyst to opening the floodgates of sadness that dwelled inside. He had not yet asked her properly about the accident or about the