Her Brooding Italian Boss. Susan Meier
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in his life, Constanzo Bartulocci could be a very funny guy.
* * *
Laura Beth glanced at Constanzo and pasted a smile on her face. Now that she recognized she didn’t belong in this crowd, that she was pretending to be someone she wasn’t, she knew exactly what to do: enjoy the rest of the wedding, then get busy finding a normal job and some new roommates. Whoever she chose couldn’t ever replace Olivia and Eloise—no one would ever replace her two best friends—but she’d make it work.
“You seem sad tonight.”
Laura Beth nodded and smiled at Constanzo. He was like everybody’s rich uncle. But he didn’t flaunt his money. He made people laugh. He’d made her laugh at more than one of Olivia and Tucker’s family events. It wasn’t unusual or out of line for her to confide. She simply wouldn’t tell him everything.
“My second roommate got married today,” she said, taking advantage of the obvious. “I’m not exactly an old maid, but I’m on the road.”
Constanzo laughed. “You Americans. What is this old maid thing? Can’t a woman mature and enjoy life without being married?”
She laughed lightly. That was exactly the attitude she needed to cultivate. “Actually, yes, she can.”
“Good. A woman doesn’t need a man. She should want a man in her life. But he should complement her, not define her.”
She toasted him with her glass of ginger ale. “Wise words.”
“So, now that we’ve settled the old maid issue, what else has made you sad?”
“I’m fine.”
He studied her face, then shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Jeez. You’re as perceptive as Antonio.”
“Where do you think he gets it?”
“I thought it was the artist in him.”
Constanzo shook his head sadly. “Unfortunately, since his wife’s death, I think the artist in my son is withering and dying.”
His gaze drifted to Antonio, and Laura Beth followed his line of sight. Antonio was stunning in his tuxedo, with his hair a little wild. Every woman he passed eyed him with interest. The spark of her crush lit again, the desire to walk over and suggest another dance rising up in her. But that was wrong. Not only did she have troubles she had to solve before she got involved with another man, but as every woman around him drooled, Antonio didn’t seem to see anybody.
“The death of a spouse is difficult.”
Constanzo accepted that with a slight nod of his head. “I don’t want him to lose his entire life over this.”
“He’ll come around.”
“He needs a nudge.”
Laura Beth laughed. “A nudge?”
Constanzo sucked in a breath. “Yes, he needs to hire help. An assistant. Somebody who can live with him and get him on track.”
“Sounds like a tall order.”
“I don’t think so. We’ve been talking about him hiring a personal assistant, and he’s finally agreeable, which means he’s finally ready to heal and get back into life. I think once an assistant gets rid of the two years of junk he’s let accumulate in his office, Antonio will be able to see his future—not his past.”
Laura Beth mulled that over for a second. “Oddly, Constanzo, that actually makes sense.”
Constanzo laughed. “I like that you understand us. It’s part of why I find you to chat to at parties.”
She smiled. “There’s not much to understand. You’re a dad who loves his son. He’s a son who appreciates having a dad. All the rest is just stuff.”
He laughed again. “I wish I could hire you to be his PA.”
Laura Beth paused her ginger ale halfway to her lips.
“But I’m sure you wouldn’t want to live in Italy. And then there’s matter of the job itself. I’m sure you’re accustomed to much loftier employment.”
She sniffed a laugh. “My degree has gotten me nothing but temp jobs.”
His eyebrows rose. “So you’re interested?”
She thought that through. A real full-time job, that came with room and board? In a country away from her family and friends, so she could think through what to do about her pregnancy before she announced it?
“Yes. I’m interested.”
THE NEXT MORNING, as instructed by Constanzo, Laura Beth took a taxi to Tucker Engle’s private airstrip. She pulled her measly suitcase out of the backseat and paid the driver one-fifth of the money she had, leaving her a mere pittance. If this job didn’t pan out, she’d be penniless. But since she was already in trouble, and knew Antonio and Constanzo well, taking work as Antonio’s personal assistant wasn’t much of a risk.
A swirl of April air kicked up dust on the tarmac as she walked to the plane. Two pilots stood beside the lowered stairway, comparing information in logbooks. As she approached, one of the men saw her and smiled. He said something in Italian and she winced.
“Sorry. I don’t speak Italian.”
The pilot laughed. “I speak English. What can we do for you?”
“I’m Laura Beth Matthews. Constanzo told me he would call you to add my name to your passenger list.”
The pilot looked down, then back up again. But the second pilot pointed at the list.
“Ah, sì. Here you are.” He reached for her pathetic suitcase. “I will take care of this.”
Fear ruffled through her as a man she didn’t know took the entirety of her possessions out of her hand and walked away. But the second pilot pointed up the steps.
She sucked in a breath. She needed to get away. She needed time to think. She needed a job. She climbed the stairs.
At the doorway she stopped and gasped. The main area looked more like a living room than a plane. Rows of seats had been replaced by long, comfortable-looking sofas. Tables beside the sofas provided places for books, drinks or food. A desk and wet bar in the back filled the remaining space.
She eased toward the sofas, wondering where the heck Constanzo and Antonio were. Sitting on the soft leather, she leaned back, enjoying the feel of it against her nape. She’d been so nervous the night before she hadn’t slept, and part of her just wanted to nod off. Before she got too comfortable, though, a commotion sounded outside. She jumped up and looked out the window.
A big white limo had pulled up. Antonio got out and held the door for his dad. She tilted her head, watching them.
Dressed in jeans and an open dress shirt over a white T-shirt, Antonio looked totally different. She usually saw him in tuxedos at gallery openings or formal events, or trousers and white shirts at parties for Olivia and Tucker’s kids. Seeing him so casual sent a jolt of attraction through her. Especially with the way the breeze blew through his long curly hair, making her wonder if it was as soft as it looked.
She shook her head at her stupidity and raced back to her seat. She’d just gotten settled when Constanzo boarded the plane.
“Carissima. You made it.”
She rose, just in case she was sitting in the wrong place. “I did.”
Antonio entered behind his dad. He stopped when he saw her, his brow wrinkling. “Laura Beth?”
Though Antonio had been raised in the United States, he’d spent the past five years