Rising Stars & It Started With… Collections. Кейт Хьюит
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are full of surprises, Miss Black,” Renzo said softly, his fingers spanning her waist, scorching her through the silk georgette of her gown.
“Shouldn’t you call me Faith?” she asked, her heart thrumming at both the feel of his hand on her body and the way he said she was full of surprises. As if he were pleased.
Oh for God’s sake, stop. She could care less what he thought. Really.
His teeth flashed white in the night. “Of course. Faith. Are you ready to go up? We are expected.”
Faith drew in a deep breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“You forgot something,” he said, his voice sliding across her nerve endings like a shiver.
Faith blinked up at him, struck anew by the symmetrical beauty of his face. How could a man be so gorgeous?
“What did I forget?” she managed to say without turning into a stammering nitwit. She could feel her face flaming, and she wanted to turn and climb straight back into the Escalade. And then she wanted to berate herself for being a ninny.
“As ready as I’ll ever be, Renzo,” he said.
He watched her expectantly, and she realized they weren’t moving until she got it right, no matter how difficult it was for her to think of him as Renzo instead of Mr. D’Angeli. No matter that it was far safer to think of him as Mr. D’Angeli. Far easier to maintain her professionalism that way.
But there was no getting around it. He wasn’t moving, and she didn’t want to stand on the sidewalk all night. She’d been lucky there’d been no paparazzi waiting for him and she didn’t feel like tempting fate any further than she already had.
Not that she was important or her secrets all that earth-shattering —but she’d left her old life behind and she had no wish to revisit the pain and humiliation of it ever again.
She pulled in a breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be, Renzo.”
“Fabuloso,” he said. “Already, you are perfect.”
The Stein’s penthouse apartment was magnificent. It took up two levels at the top of the building, and boasted a terrace planted just like a formal English garden. There were trees, arbors, a profusion of rosebushes and even a carpet of grass. Lights strung around the perimeter had the effect of softly illuminating the area and making one believe they were at a garden party. Central Park stretched out below, a dark inky spot in the night bordered by the bright lights of the Upper West Side across the way. If Faith stood near the edge of the terrace and looked left, she could see the Plaza gleaming white while the red taillights of taxis streamed by on Fifth Avenue.
She rarely came into Manhattan. The D’Angeli Motors factory was on Long Island, and she lived in Brooklyn. At the end of the day, she was too tired to venture into the city. And the weekends were her time to read, watch television and catch up on her laundry and housecleaning. She wasn’t the sort of girl who had time to pop into the Plaza for afternoon tea.
But now, standing here, she almost wished she was. She could afford that much at least. But a place like the Stein’s apartment was another story. This was how the supremely wealthy lived. It was at turns exhilarating and depressing.
She worked long hours to afford what she had and to save up for her own place someday, and other people had manicured grass growing on top of a building in Manhattan. Faith shook her head. Life was very strange sometimes.
She glanced over at Renzo. They’d only been here twenty minutes, and already she felt that her coming had been a waste of time. He did not need her. He stood nearby, chatting with Robert Stein and a group of gentlemen. They were watching him raptly, laughing and agreeing with something he said, and then toasting him with their glasses held high. A moment later, Stein was turning away at an entreaty from his wife, and Renzo turned to look toward where Faith stood near the terrace wall, a glass of wine in her hand.
There was something electric in his gaze, something that shot straight to the deepest heart of her and twisted an emotion out of her. She took a sip of her wine. How very annoying to not be able to control her response to him. To be exactly like every other woman who couldn’t control herself around him.
Except that she could control herself. And she would.
He said something to the men and then he was striding toward her, confident and sure. Until, for the briefest of moments, he seemed to favor his right leg. Faith frowned. A second later, he was moving as gracefully as ever. And yet she was positive he’d been in pain. That was the leg with the pins, the one that had been supposed to end his career several years ago.
“I’m sorry to have left you standing here alone,” he said.
Faith shook her head, frowning at the thought his leg might be bothering him. “Not at all. You came here to talk to Mr. Stein. That should take precedence.”
He tilted his head as he studied her. It disconcerted her until she wanted to drop her lashes and shield her eyes, but she would not shrink from him. It was not the first time tonight he’d looked at her that way. Each time, she felt as if he were dissecting her and viewing the parts individually. As if he weren’t quite certain what to make of her.
Well, she wasn’t certain what to make of herself. What was she doing at a party full of rich people, pretending to be the date of one of the most handsome and dynamic men in the world? No one would believe it for a minute.
She didn’t. She just wanted to be at home, wrapped in her fuzzy robe and reading a book. That was believable.
“You are interesting, Faith,” Renzo said.
She lifted her chin. She would not be flattered by his smooth charm. “Not really. I’m just doing my job.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Is that what you call it?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “I’m here because you asked me to be, plus you offered to pay me. It’s work.”
He looked amused. “And what if I asked you to come to Italy with me? Would you do it?”
Faith swallowed. Italy? She couldn’t pretend that the thought didn’t excite her. She’d never been out of the country before, and she couldn’t imagine a more wonderful place to go. Pasta, pizza, cappuccino. Mmm. It made her mouth water just to think it.
She’d always believed she would be shuffled to another of the company’s officers once Renzo returned to Europe. She still believed it. He couldn’t really be serious. He had another factory in Italy, and another office that was no doubt staffed with an efficient Italian PA.
“That depends,” she said, her throat constricting around the words.
“I need you, Faith. You keep my life together, and I don’t want to live without you.”
Faith could only blink. And then she had to suppress a laugh—because how many women would die to hear Renzo say those words to them? Of course he meant them a very different way, but it was still amusing.
“I wish I had a tape recorder,” she said, and then bit her lip when she realized she’d spoken aloud.
He looked perplexed. “Why is this?”
Faith shrugged, laughing. What was the use in denying it? “Because I could probably sell it many times over. I can think of a handful of women who would pay to hear those words from your lips. And I’m sure there are more trailing in your wake. I could retire early.”
Renzo laughed. “Ah, si, it could be very profitable for you. And yet I hope you will consider my offer to accompany me to Italy.”
“You haven’t made the offer yet,” she said, feeling bold and breathless at the same time.
His smile was turned up full force. “Have I not? Dear Faith, please accompany me to Italy. I will give you a twenty percent raise and cover all your expenses while we are abroad.”
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