The Italian Boss's Mistress

‘What on earth—?’

‘I didn’t get the job,’ Pippa muttered in a wobbly undertone and then the whole unhappy story came tumbling out.

Hilary listened and tried not to wince while she dug into a cupboard in the tiny staff room and poured Pippa a stiff drink from the brandy someone had given her at Christmas.

‘I don’t touch it, you know I don’t…’ Pippa attempted to push the glass away.

‘You’re as white as a sheet. You need a boost.’ Hilary pressed her down into a seat by the washbasins and deemed a change of subject the best policy. ‘So you want to knock ’em dead in the aisles at Venstar tonight—’

‘Some chance!’ Wrinkling her nose at the taste, Pippa drank deep and the unfamiliar alcohol ran like fire down into her cold, empty tummy. Like the warmth of her friend’s sympathy, however, it was a soothing sensation and she was incredibly grateful that she had ignored her father’s withering sarcasm and had attended her first school reunion just a few months earlier. After Tabby had made a permanent move to France, Pippa had been delighted to meet up with Hilary again at the reunion and learn that the blonde also lived in London. After that tragic car accident, their paths had been forced apart and Tabby and Pippa had lost touch with Hilary and with the fourth member of that teenage friendship, Jen Tarbert.

‘Even blindfolded, you could knock ’em dead,’ Hilary repeated with determination, trying not to think unkind thoughts about Pippa’s deceased father. However, it was an unfortunate truth that even when Pippa had been a child her parent had been a domineering bully with a wounding tongue and he had done a real hatchet job on his daughter’s self-esteem.

While Hilary washed her hair, Pippa remembered to ask after her friend’s kid sister, Emma. ‘How’s she doing?’

Hilary chattered on happily about the teenage sister she adored before saying, ‘Will you let me do your make-up too?’

‘If you don’t mind…’

‘Why would I mind? I love doing faces!’

‘Well, you can only do your best—’

‘With a bone structure as good as yours, I would hope so.’ Hilary watched Pippa stiffen and sighed before she pressed another brimming glass of brandy into the redhead’s hand, told her that she was far too tense and hustled her upstairs to her cluttered apartment.

‘I’ll have to rush home to get changed,’ Pippa remarked.

‘You haven’t got the time. You’ll be late enough as it is.’ Hilary hurried into her sister’s bedroom and plundered the packed wardrobe there to emerge with a strappy dress in a glorious shade of turquoise.

‘I can’t borrow anything that belongs to your sister!’ Pippa protested.

‘Emma decided that this made her look too old and you know how picky teenagers are…there’s no way she’ll ever wear it now.’

‘I wouldn’t feel comfortable in a style like that,’ Pippa muttered.

‘Lighten up, Pippa,’ Hilary urged in a pained tone. ‘You’re young and you can wear just about anything with your figure. It’s not a revealing dress, so what are you worried about?’

In Pippa’s opinion any garment that bared her shoulders, her thin arms and the sheer pitiful tininess of her breasts was much too revealing. Yet, her friend was being so kind and supportive that she was reluctant to reject her generosity. Both women wore the same size in shoes but, yet again, there was a great gap between their personal preferences. Hilary adored shoes with high heels whereas Pippa rarely wore heels because she already stood five feet eleven inches in her bare feet. A pair of three-inch high gold beaded sandals were set beside the dress and then Hilary showed her guest into the bathroom to enable her to take a shower before her transformation commenced.

Almost two hours later, and only after Pippa had donned the contact lenses she carried in her bag but rarely utilised, Hilary whisked the towel off the mirror and marched Pippa in front of it. ‘You look totally, incredibly gorgeous and if you argue about that I swear I’m going to have a fight with you!’

In shocked silence, Pippa stared at her colourful reflection. ‘I don’t look like me—’

‘No offence intended, but that’s only because “me” neglects her hair, never wears make-up and can’t be bothered dressing up!’

Pippa’s eyes stung a little but she could hardly blink for the amount of mascara on her lashes. She swallowed hard and said gruffly, ‘Thanks. I don’t look like a loser and you wouldn’t believe how much that means to me.’

Andreo D’Alessio was bored. He was also in a very bad mood.

He had not asked for a party. He had not wanted a party. He disliked surprises and he did not think that surprise parties had a role to play in the business world. He was not entertained by long speeches either. He had even less time for flattery and employees in a high state of excitement, particularly when it was obvious that a healthy proportion had overindulged in alcohol before attending the event. Having left the conference hall with the excuse of an important call, he was crossing the hotel foyer when he saw the ravishing redhead. Then he saw her, so stunning that she stopped him in his tracks.

Hair the rich colour of heavy cinnamon silk tumbled to her shoulders in a smooth, shining fall that reflected the light and framed an oval face of perfect symmetry. Her eyes were the clear, bright blue of the midsummer sky, her full mouth painted coral-pink to highlight the invitation of her soft lips. Her height alone would have attracted his attention for she was unusually tall for a woman. Nearly six feet in height, Andreo calculated with appreciation, and still confident enough to wear high heels. Of all things he abhorred the absurdity of trying to match his own very tall, well-built frame to that of some tiny, birdlike creature half his size. The redhead with her taut white shoulders, slender feminine curves and wondrously endless and shapely legs would fit him to perfection…

That fast, voracious male hormones kicking into lusty overdrive at the enervating prospect of the precise intimate fit of the gorgeous woman he was watching, Andreo decided that he was surveying his next lover.

Pippa gazed into the crowded conference hall, which was buzzing with Venstar employees, and wondered if anyone would even recognise her. With the curls she loathed straightened by Hilary’s expertise with a blow-dryer, her spectacles discarded and in borrowed finery, she looked different. The amount of male attention she had attracted since her arrival at the vast hotel had made her very aware of that fact.

Unfortunately, the girlie dress made her feel horribly exposed and self-conscious. She wasn’t used to men staring at her and all her life she had been shy. Got up in a no-nonsense trouser suit with work-related issues providing the framework for every dialogue with male colleagues, she had managed fine. But, shorn of that sensible façade, it was a challenge to appear impervious to the lustful appraisals she was receiving. Her chin tilting, she was on the brink of entering the hall when sudden silence fell within. Seeing the man moving towards the podium on the platform, she decided to stay where she was until he had finished making his speech.

As the speaker took up position Pippa stared and then laughed out loud. Oh, dear, Jonelle and every other woman fantasising about the physical attractions of the billionaire Andreo D’Alessio were suffering a very big let-down indeed to their wild fantasies.

‘Care to share the joke?’ a male voice urged lazily by her side.

Pippa stiffened in surprise for she had not noticed that there was a man standing that close and she felt far too awkward to turn her head to look at him direct. ‘I was just thinking that a lot of people must have been very disappointed with Andreo D’Alessio,’ she said a little breathlessly.

Disconcerted, Andreo frowned. ‘And why would you think that?’

Something in that accented drawl sent a tiny little shiver of warning down her spine and might have silenced her had not Pippa been in the mood to be sharp, rather than soothing. ‘I suppose that I should’ve said that the women will be disappointed. He’s not even a little bit fanciable,’ Pippa remarked with some satisfaction.

‘No?’ At that point, Andreo believed that she was only pretending not to know who he was. After all, the Venstar shindig had kicked off over an hour earlier and he had been the centre of attention from the outset. He assumed she was making a move on him and, having been subjected to some strange pick-up routines in his time, he was curious to see where she planned to travel after such an opening.

‘No, he’s downright short. In fact, he’s so small, he would look more at home sitting under a mushroom dressed all in green like a leprechaun,’ Pippa pronounced.

Belatedly, Andreo realised that she was studying Salvatore Rissone, whom he planned to put in charge of Venstar after the business had been restructured. ‘Height is not everything.’

‘He looks like he’s rather too fond of his food as well,’ Pippa added with a cruelty that was quite unlike her. ‘And he’s definitely going bald. No wonder he doesn’t like publicity photos. He’s not exactly Mr Universe, is he?’

‘Movie-star looks are not required in business.’ Andreo was angered by her unkind comments about Sal’s homely appearance. ‘He is a fine man—’

‘No, he’s not,’ Pippa cut in with growing heat. ‘Andreo D’Alessio is a very rich man and the only reason people talk him up is because they’re either hugely impressed by his money or…’ As she spun round, giving way to her hurt resentment of Andreo D’Alessio to address her companion direct, she looked at him for the first time and what she was about to say went clean out of her mind again.

It was rare for Pippa to be forced to look up at a man. But what sent her brain into free fall was the sheer dazzling effect of this particular male animal up close. From the bronzed skin enhancing the lean, hard, elegant planes of his proud cheekbones to the stubborn masculine angularity of his jawbone, he was strikingly handsome. His mouth was wide and firm, his brows level and dark to match the gleaming luxuriance of his cropped black hair. But it was the piercing quality of eyes dark as ebony and accentuated by a frame of lush inky lashes that entrapped her.

‘Or…?’ Andreo collided with her turquoise gaze and found his annoyance mysteriously evaporating beneath the onslaught of those spectacular eyes. She was staring up at him in the most uncool way, her response to his sexual magnetism patent in her dilated pupils, and amused satisfaction gripped him.

She really didn’t know who he was. She really had mistaken Sal Rissone for him. She was not teasing him or trying to capture his interest with a novel approach. Perhaps he was at risk of turning into one of those painful guys who took himself much too seriously, Andreo reflected abruptly. He decided that he ought to be challenged rather than antagonised by the unusual experience of hearing himself criticised. It certainly made a change from the fawning flattery that had been his lot throughout the evening.

‘Or…?’ Pippa was magnetised by his proximity and inexplicably feeling very short of breath.

‘You were saying that people talk up Andreo D’Alessio because he is wealthy and because…?’

‘His reputation scares them half to death,’ Pippa filled in jerkily.

‘What have you got against Andreo?’

‘You’re an Italian, aren’t you?’ Somewhat belatedly, Pippa connected his delicious growling accent to his likely nationality. Delicious? The dark timbre of his deep, low-pitched drawl was impossibly sexy. Thrown by the strange emergence of thoughts that seemed to have no direct input from her brain, she shifted off one foot onto the other. Without the smallest warning, she felt her nipples snap tight into stiff little buttons inside her bodice and her cheeks burned hot while she wondered what on earth was happening to her.

‘I am.’ Andreo continued to study her. No matter how hard or how long he studied her, her colouring was a source of continual fascination to him: that glowing cinnamon hair and those turquoise eyes enhanced by skin that had initially been pale as milk but that was now flaring a soft rose pink. It had been a long time since he had seen a woman blush and he was intrigued. ‘You work for Venstar?’

Pippa nodded but she was extremely tense. ‘You referred to Andreo D’Alessio as if you know him personally…’

He was Italian, Pippa was thinking in dismay. He had to work for D’Alessio and, if he was part of the initial wave of imported employees, he was unlikely to be a junior member of the team. Her tongue darted out in a nervous flicker over the soft underside of her lower lip.

Andreo found himself imagining that moist pink tip tracing an erotic path of exploration over his bared skin. The sudden throb of his aroused sex startled him for he was long past the teenage years when self-control in the radius of a beautiful woman had often been a challenge. ‘Perhaps I’m just curious to know what you have against a man you’ve never met,’ he breathed almost harshly.

Pippa tossed her head, cinnamon tresses spilling back against her slim white shoulders. Cautious as she was trying to be, it was already too late because the alcohol in her bloodstream was firing her every response with an unfamiliar aggression. ‘How do you know I’ve never met him?’

Andreo elevated a fine black brow. ‘You…have?’

‘No, I haven’t, but I don’t need to meet him in the flesh to know that he’s a sexist dinosaur, who discriminates against women to make himself feel more powerful!’ Pippa slung bitterly.

CHAPTER TWO

D ISCONCERTED , Andreo frowned down at the woman maligning his reputation as a fair employer. His ebony eyes glinted with golden highlights. He stifled an instinctive urge to slap her down so hard verbally that she would never again dare to make such an unjust charge against him. ‘ Dio mio… That’s a loaded accusation to make against a man whom you can know virtually nothing about.’

Pale as death and almost as taken aback as she could see he was by her angry outburst, Pippa dropped her head and muttered, ‘Excuse me…’

As she began to move away Andreo swung round to effectively bar her passage. ‘Don’t rush away,’ he urged.

What the heck had come over her? Pippa was asking herself in consternation. Only a mad woman would hurl an accusation like that about the boss at a work function! That wretched brandy had gone to her foolish head and loosened her tongue. Naturally she was bitter about the reasons why she had been passed over for promotion but, if she had no intention of making a formal complaint, she needed to keep her lips sealed for her own protection. ‘Look, I—’

‘You haven’t even told me your name,’ Andreo incised, noting the slight tremor of the pale slender hand she had braced against the wall.

After that crazy bout of outspokenness, only a suicidal idiot would gave a truthful response to a name, rank and number request that would identify her, Pippa conceded in dismay. Her head was beginning to pound in response to the increasing level of her stress. What was she to tell him? Pippa Plain? Pride brought up her head again as she remembered what her late mother had often called her. ‘It’s Philly…’

‘Philly,’ Andreo sounded out, rolling the syllables huskily together. ‘I like it. Let me buy you a drink and convince you that Venstar’s new owner walks on water even in his spare time—’

‘Is he really that full of himself?’ Pippa interrupted with aghast turquoise eyes.

‘You have a problem with confident men?’ In the act of frowning, Andreo again found himself questioning his own self-image.

‘If by confident you mean arrogant, yes, I have a problem—’

‘Andreo isn’t arrogant. He is secure in himself and assertive,’ Andreo pronounced with approval, ushering her in the direction of the quiet bar by dint of a light hand that only momentarily brushed her spine. ‘But you must tell me why you referred to Andreo D’Alessio as sexist—’

Eager to avoid that controversial subject, Pippa murmured hurriedly, ‘You haven’t even told me your name yet…’

As if he already knew how much he off-balanced her, Andreo sent her a slanting grin.

Her heart hammered so hard and fast that she felt momentarily faint.

‘It’s Andreo, I’m afraid,’ he supplied.

‘Is that like…a common name in Italy?’

‘Very much…every other guy is called Andreo,’ Andreo groaned with silken mockery, surveying her from below the deceptively sleepy fringe of his black lashes, dark golden eyes vibrant with concealed amusement.

Pippa was fascinated, exhilarated and scared all at one and the same time. She had not even noticed him ordering a drink for her and when a waiter offered her a cocktail in a tall, thin glass she accepted it without comment and let the sparkling liquid moisten her throat.

‘Are you married?’ Pippa heard herself ask Andreo with all the effortless cool of a giant weight dropping from the sky. Having heard other women talk, she knew it was the one question that a sensible woman should always ask when she met a man for the first time.

He laughed out loud. ‘You’re so subtle…of course I’m not married. Tell me why you think Andreo D’Alessio is a dinosaur—’

‘I don’t want to talk about that.’

‘I do.’ Andreo stared down at her with the daunting force of will that came as naturally to his domineering nature as the need to breathe.

‘I don’t…’ The tingle in the atmosphere gave Pippa a wicked thrill. She couldn’t take her eyes off him and she felt as if she were locked into a live electric current.

Shimmering dark golden eyes rested on her. ‘I’ll get it out of you,’ Andreo intoned with innate conviction in his own powers of persuasion. ‘Do you always take shameless advantage of the fact that you’re beautiful?’

Pippa spluttered on her drink and glanced up at him, riveted to the spot, her lovely eyes unguarded. ‘Sorry…?’

He was chatting her up. She could hardly believe it. A guy who was a dead ringer for her ultimate fantasy male was flirting with her. And she didn’t know how to handle it, had not a clue how to respond, so she smiled up at him, smiled and smiled and smiled, suddenly terrified that he might lose interest and walk away again. Wasn’t it time she enjoyed what other women took for granted? Wasn’t it time she took account of the reality that she was young and single? The admiration in his appreciative gaze was like a shot of adrenalin in her veins and balm to her wounded ego. Pippa Plain? Who?

That knowing feminine smile that appeared to suggest that she was aware of exactly the effect she was having on his libido tensed every muscle in Andreo’s lean, powerful body. It had been a long time since sexual hunger had hit Andreo with that intensity and it had a mixed effect on him. Rigid with throbbing arousal, he wanted to behave like a caveman and thrust her back against the wall and crush those ripe coral lips under his again and again and again before he dragged her off somewhere much more private. But while his hot-blooded nature revelled in the rare heat of his desire for her, his intellect was in direct opposition. He liked to be in control, he always liked to be one hundred per cent in control.

‘Santo Cielo,’ he murmured thickly.

The ragged edge to his deep voice sent yet another responsive shiver travelling through Pippa. She meshed with scorching dark golden eyes and her mouth ran dry and her knees turned weak as water under her. For the first time in twenty three years she understood what it was like to be really wanted by a guy. And she didn’t know how she understood, how she could possibly recognise the rough edge of desire stamping his lean, hard features and the passionate intensity of his stunning eyes. But although she had only just met him, she was attuned to his hunger with every humming fibre of her physical being. What she was feeling terrified her and excited her in equal parts.

‘Let’s get out of here…’ Andreo breathed, deciding in the space of a moment that he could plead a prior engagement to escape the party.

He extended a hand to her. She could not think straight but still she closed her fingers into his, unable to resist her own need to touch him. She quivered, tormented by the nagging ache she barely comprehended at the very heart of her body, and stared down at their linked hands while she strove to get a grip on herself again.

‘This is crazy,’ she mumbled shakily.

Andreo’s mobile phone sounded up the tune his fourteen-year-old kid brother had fed into it to announce that he and only he was calling. Anybody else calling at that instant would have been ignored but Andreo was always ruefully aware that in the eyes of Marco, who was less than half his own age, he had more the standing of a father than a brother.

Even white teeth gritting, Andreo released Pippa’s hand with an apology for the interruption and dug out his phone to answer it. His sibling plunged straight into outlining the mathematics question he was struggling to answer. Suppressing a groan of disbelief, Andreo flipped over a flyer lying on the bar counter and jotted down the problem on the blank side of the sheet.

‘My little brother…he’s in boarding school and sometimes he needs a hand with his work,’ he explained taut-mouthed to Pippa.

Blinking, only slowly emerging from the daze induced by her own screaming hormones and her wild response to Andreo, Pippa hovered by his side. She was shattered by the acknowledgement that she had been on the very brink of going off with Andreo. A guy she had only just met, a guy she knew nothing about! She was incredulous at her own reckless behaviour and appalled. Anyone might have been forgiven for thinking that she had lost her wits the same moment she’d first laid eyes on Andreo!

‘Marco…’ Andreo could feel Pippa’s sudden withdrawal as much as if she had slammed a door shut in his face. He had to fight to keep the exasperated edge from his intonation as his impatient little brother asked him how long it would take for him to solve the problem for him.

In the act of emerging from shock to plunge into embarrassment instead as she wondered how the heck she was to retain Andreo’s interest while also telling him that she had changed her mind about going any place with him, Pippa noticed that Andreo was in the act of striving to differentiate trigonometric functions on the flyer.

‘That line’s in error,’ she muttered with a slight frown as she drew closer to him.

Andreo froze in astonishment. ‘Is that a fact?’ he challenged.

Pippa filched the pen from between his fingers and at lightning speed ran through the question to emerge with the answer while at the same time succinctly explaining where he had gone wrong in his calculations.

Andreo breathed in very deep and slow. He was better than ninety-nine out of a hundred people at maths and he had just met the hundredth in the unexpected guise of a very lovely and tactless redhead. Was he a chauvinist bastard?

‘Andreo…’ Marco breathed in wonderment, having overheard the entire dialogue and haltered by no such reservations. ‘Whoever she is she’s a real whiz at this stuff. Not one of your usual airheads, is she? Make sure you get her phone number for me!’

As Andreo finished the call it occurred to Pippa that she had not been very diplomatic. Tabby, who seemed to have been born knowing how the male mind worked, had once told her that men had very tender egos and that, if you really, really liked a guy, you should always leave him space to save face. Aware that she had steamrollered over him, she almost winced.

Over the top of her head, Andreo saw two members of his personal staff lurking by the door of the conference hall, visibly anxious to rope him back into the festivities but understandably reluctant to interrupt him and his companion. He pressed her round the corner of the bar where they were no longer within view.

‘We should separate and return to the hall for ten or fifteen minutes…practise discretion,’ Andreo ground out half under his breath, while gazing stormily down into her beautiful face, his reluctance to part from her palpable, ‘but I don’t want to let you out of my sight for a second in case I lose you, cara .’