Unwordly Secretary, Gorgeous Boss: Secretary Mistress, Convenient Wife / The Boss's Unconventional Assistant / The Boss's Forbidden Secretary

He wasn’t afraid of not carrying out to the letter the instructions in Roberto’s will. After all … what could his despotic tyrannical spirit do? Haunt him from the grave? Yet after their visit to the hospice, and engaging with those incredible children again, Fabian knew he would not call a halt to the yearly concerts. Scraping his hand resignedly through his hair, he turned his mind instead towards the future for a moment. With a sudden great yearning he thought about what his own children would be like when he became a father. He did not doubt they would help bring more meaning and purpose to his life … something he had been craving for a very long time. Work, money, admiration—these were empty pursuits in comparison, and the satisfaction in all of them momentary and fleeting.

Caught up in his thoughts, it took him a couple of seconds to register the fact that Dante was at the door gesturing to him with what was definitely a worried expression on his face. In a torrent of concerned Italian, the older man told him what was the problem. His stomach gripped with disquiet, Fabian followed him back into the room he had just vacated.

Laura stood at the tall Palladian window with her back to him. She was dressed in a full-length scarlet backless gown that displayed to perfection the long slim lines of her body, notwithstanding the feminine curves that were the epitome of grace rather than voluptuous. For a moment he was spellbound. With her soft halo of bright hair and pearlescent skin, he knew she would elicit many appreciative admiring gasps in such a gown. Yet as he moved towards her he could tell that she was deeply upset. Thinking of what his friend had told him, he took a steadying breath.

‘Laura?’

‘This is far too revealing,’ she said, in a voice thickened by emotion. ‘I couldn’t possibly wear such a dress in public.’

Laying his hands on her shoulders, Fabian slowly made her turn round to face him. ‘My only wish is that you feel beautiful in whatever gown you ultimately choose. I would not wish for one moment for you to wear anything that makes you remotely ill at ease,’ he reassured her, registering the tears that glistened in her eyes like a punch. Then, because she had her arms held in front of her chest, her hands clenched in front of her breastbone, he dropped his gaze there and said gently, ‘Show me.’

Hesitantly she lowered her arms, and Fabian was confronted by the cruel scarring that violated the soft pearly skin between her breasts. Protest at the wicked desecration was arising passionately inside him, but he could not find the words to express his emotion right then.

‘It was caused by a jagged piece of metal in the crash … the same as here.’ She touched her hand briefly to her forehead. Clearing her throat, she formed her lips into an anxious little smile. ‘I’m sorry, Fabian … I’d hardly make the kind of impression I expect you’d like in these beautiful gowns. I should have told you about this yesterday.’

‘Do not blame yourself. I hardly gave you a chance, did I?’

‘This does not have to be the end of the world, no?’ Suddenly Dante was beside them both, his expressive face enthused with renewed purpose. ‘I am not known as the maestro for nothing! I have accessories that can create magic better than any illusionist! And I have brought other less revealing gowns that will be equally stunning on the beautiful Laura, and will not make her self-conscious about these silly little scars! Life deals us all blows, signorina,’ he said with a glint of moisture in his sable eyes. ‘Some visible, some not so. But we do not have to let them destroy our ability to enjoy the beauty in life … si?’

Briefly meeting Fabian’s concerned glance, Laura wiped at her own tears, then smiled without restraint at the other man who stood there. For a disconcerting instant Fabian sensed his heartbeat quicken at the gesture.

‘You are right, Signor Pasolini. I am sorry I made a fuss,’ he heard her say, and he had to seriously fight not to impel her into his arms there and then and kiss her. ‘Fabian … would you mind leaving us again?’

‘You are sure you want to do this?’ he asked a little gruffly.

‘I don’t want to let you down tonight,’ she replied, her soft gaze like a jewelled misty dawn.

‘I know that will not happen.’

Turning away, Fabian returned to the adjoining salon and, instead of sitting, walked straight to the window and gazed out unseeingly at the busy scenes of activity in front of him. The preparations for tonight’s event were underway with a vengeance, but now he anticipated it with even less enthusiasm than usual. Instead he pondered the devastating effects—both mental and physical—the car accident must have made Laura suffer, and a profound stab of unease and regret pulsed through him.

He should not have coerced her into trying on the dresses—and he would not have if he’d known why she was so reticent. Yet it struck him how dignified and beautiful she’d appeared in the stunning red dress, in spite of her scars. She would make an ideal wife for him. Not showy or avaricious, but composed and serene—he would be able to take her anywhere. Maybe, given time, they might even become good friends? Reluctantly recalling the husband she had lost, he refused to consider that Laura might well refuse his offer of marriage because she was afraid that this marriage too would ultimately end in disaster. She had said that marriage should involve much more than clear-headed logic! Clearly a woman of deeply held passions, could she be satisfied with the kind of loveless arrangement that Fabian was suggesting? Albeit one that had numerous attractive benefits, in his opinion?

Clenching his jaw grimly, he determinedly pushed the disquieting possibility of her refusal away.

A couple of hours before the concert—when the phones had finally stopped ringing and all the lastminute arrangements had been taken care of—

Laura stretched her arms high above her head at her desk and groaned. The muscles at the back of her neck and across her shoulders cramped painfully, testimony to the tension that had been slowly building all day.

It had started with that scene earlier on, when she’d tried on the stunning red dress Dante Pasolini had brought and had known she couldn’t hide her scars any longer. She had never felt more vulnerable or scared than she had in that moment. But the fashion designer had turned out to be the kindest of men, and when Fabian had walked in and seen the scar too the gaze that had swept over her had been anything but repulsed, as Laura had feared it might be. She had definitely seen compassion in his eyes—and how could a man who demonstrated that admirable quality so naturally profess to almost scorn love as he did? What his wife had done had obviously made him deeply cynical about trusting his heart.

Adding to Laura’s discomfort now was not just the fact that she had to present some of the performers during the evening, and act as her boss’s hostess, but that after the concert she had promised Fabian to give him her final answer regarding his marriage proposal. He might want her to treat it like a business proposition, but every time she thought about it her stomach was flooded with butterflies the size of small helicopters.

‘Laura … why are you still at your desk? You should have finished work at least half an hour ago! It is nearly time to get ready.’

He’d entered the room barefooted, as was his custom when he was at home, and—wrapped up in her own pressing concerns—Laura hadn’t heard him.

‘I was only seeing to a few last-minute things,’ she said, turning. ‘A couple of guests lost their invitations, and there were one or two requests from people travelling from further afield for directions to the villa.’

But Fabian hardly seemed to be listening to any of this. Instead he was frowning deeply as he regarded her. ‘You look tired and drawn, and there are dark circles beneath your eyes.’

‘I’ll be fine when I shower and freshen up. You’d be amazed at the transformation a little make-up can effect!’

Ignoring her false attempt at humour, Fabian frowned again, and the furrow between his golden brows didn’t disappear.

‘No doubt you are far too tense. This morning was an ordeal for you, instead of the pleasure I intended.’

Without waiting for her to comment, he swivelled her chair around and slid his hand beneath her hair behind her neck. Gently but firmly he started to knead the muscles there. His touch was silk and velvet, summer rain and scorching sun, all rolled into one. For weak-willed moments Laura let herself bask in the almost unbearable pleasure of it. Then she abruptly brought herself to her senses and told herself she shouldn’t be encouraging him to touch her like this. It was simply too intimate, and it crushed all possibility of making rational decisions where he was concerned ever again.

‘You have to stop.’ She laid her hand over his and pulled it away. Turning in her seat, she lifted her gaze to his in mute appeal.

‘Why?’

‘You ask me that when—’ ‘When what?’

‘When you are confusing me to such a degree that I can’t even remember my own name!’

Rising to her feet, she found herself with bare inches between their two bodies. He was smiling at her, and that confused her even more. With his slightly crumpled white linen shirt, softly napped jeans, bronzed skin and sun-kissed hair, he was the kind of fantasy that she’d never dreamt would come into her sphere.

‘Don’t, Fabian!’

‘What have I done?’ he asked, in apparent innocence.

You’re leading me down a road I am frightened to go down, Laura answered in the silence of her mind. And yet every second you smile at me the temptation to travel it grows too great to resist.

‘I’m only here to work for you, and you’re treating me like—like something far more personal than that.’

‘I have asked you to be my wife … remember?’

‘But the marriage you have in mind is hardly a proper one.’

‘It will be legal and proper in every way!’ He looked affronted for a moment.

Sensing this was not the time to confront the issue, Laura sighed. ‘You know what I mean! But I suppose we have no choice but to wait until later to discuss it properly. Well … I’d better go and get ready for the evening.’

‘Before you do that I think you should get a massage first. Iron is more yielding than the muscles in the back of your neck! And I want you to be as relaxed as possible tonight, so that you will enjoy the occasion and not dread it.’

His words brought up a new concern. ‘Are you dreading it, Fabian?’ she asked quietly.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I haven’t been immune to the fact that you seem a little less than thrilled about the whole event … yet your dedication to helping the children at the hospice is unquestionable!’

Her comment definitely seemed to take him aback. The very blue irises around much darker pupils seemed to acquire an even more intense hue. ‘You are an astute woman, and I cannot deny that promoting and holding this concert brings up some difficult challenges for me personally. But this is not something that I want to consider right now, when I am just a short time away from greeting my guests … si?’

‘Yes, I understand.’

‘Come with me.’ Getting hold of her hand, he steered her firmly towards the door. ‘Where are you—?’

But Fabian wouldn’t say where he was taking her, and Laura had no choice but to allow him to lead her through corridors and vestibules she’d never entered before, and finally down some marble steps to an area that was done out like a Roman spa—complete with inviting swimming pool, and the scent of lemon and pine and sweet herbs clinging to the moist air.

As she glanced interestedly at the beautiful marble statues of scantily clad women that appeared to have been modelled on Botticelli’s Venus, arranged at equally measured distances across an intricate mosaic-tiled floor, a door opened to the right of them and a young man stepped out. Clad in fitted white T-shirt and shorts, with bronzed skin, silky toned muscles and dark curling hair, he couldn’t have been much more than twenty.

‘Ciao, Giuseppe!’ Going forward, his hand still firmly clasping Laura’s, Fabian greeted the younger man with a friendly slap on his hard-muscled bicep. ‘This is Laura, who has been standing in for Carmela the past few days,’ he explained in English. ‘She has been working extremely hard, helping to organise the concert tonight, and is in need of a massage.’

‘Fabian—no!’ Her expression aghast, Laura felt her limbs turn to jelly at the mere idea of this young Hercules applying his practised hands to her pale and less than perfect flesh, with its disfiguring scars. What was Fabian trying to do to her, plunging her into all these uncomfortable situations? Force her to confront the fact that she was different from every other woman he knew? She already knew that.

‘She is a little shy,’ he told Giuseppe with an enigmatic smile. ‘Just her neck, shoulders and back will do. Can you find your own way back to your rooms?’ he asked, his avid gaze latching onto Laura’s again.

‘But, Fabian, I—’

‘You are in good hands with Giuseppe. There is no need to be anxious. He may be young, but he is a master of his craft. I will see you in about an hour and a half at the front entrance. I want you to be with me when I greet our guests. Ciao.’

Leaning forward, he planted a soft kiss at the side of her jaw, just beneath her ear, and Laura sensed heat rush into her with force—especially as he had done it in front of the young masseur.

‘Signorina?’ Giuseppe was holding the door open for her with a smile that was both reassuring and inviting. ‘Do not worry … I will make you feel like a new woman!’ he promised, and Laura felt her ensuing blush right down to the very edges of her toes.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE young tenor’s voice elicited goosebumps up and down Laura’s body. Accompanied by a magical Spanish guitar, it was the ultimate gift after all her hard work over the past few days, and made every worry and doubt she’d had about the concert melt away.

Seated in the front row of the beautifully decorated marquee, with Fabian beside her dressed in matchless Italian tailoring, making her pulse-rate soar and her heart leap every time she glanced at him, she momentarily shut her eyes and let the mesmerising sound carry her away. The music seemed to enter her bloodstream—the young singer’s voice, along with the heartrending words that he sang, eliciting such deep sorrow inside her that it was almost too much to bear.

Behind her closed lids her eyes were drowned in tears. She had travelled so far to be where she was now, and when she looked back it was nothing short of a miracle that she’d made it.

Before she could regain her composure, a hand covered hers and comfortingly squeezed it. Glancing round in surprise, Laura’s moist gaze locked onto Fabian’s, and she was startled by the apparent concern that blazed back at her. For a man who seemed to regard emotion as a necessary evil at best, and an illogical inconvenience at worst, his actions were almost incomprehensible to her. Managing the faintest of smiles, she slid her hand out from beneath his—even though she secretly longed to keep it there—and reached into her evening purse for a tissue.

All too soon the fabulous glittering concert came to an end. Fabian brought the evening to a close by thanking all the artists for donating their incredible performances, then the guests for their ‘very generous and welcome contributions’ to the hospice fund and finally Laura herself for her hard work and dedication in helping to organise the event in Carmela’s absence—he indicated that she join him on stage and she was truly taken aback when a pretty girl dressed all in white presented her with a huge bouquet of cream roses. As she accepted the unexpected token of thanks Fabian stepped forward and, instead of the customary kiss on both cheeks, stunned her completely—and no doubt everyone in the audience too—by kissing her full on the mouth, deliberately letting his lips linger there for a very long moment. When he broke away his gorgeous blue eyes were twinkling with almost boyish satisfaction and an undeniable hint of mischief in their hypnotic depths. Her senses already swimming with the heady scent of the roses, Laura wondered how she remained standing she was besieged by such intoxicating dizziness. Reaching for her hand, Fabian thanked everyone again and left the stage to applause that was buzzing with frank curiosity as well as appreciation of the night’s events. Laura imagined they were thinking who was she to command such personal attention from their handsome host? As soon as they descended the steps, they were instantly surrounded by a veritable swarm of people, shouting questions as well as congratulations at Fabian. Catching a brief glimpse of the reserve that seemed to slot into automatic place in his otherwise amiable expression as he pressed her close into his side—Laura sensed that all he wanted to do just then was get away from the clamouring crowd and be alone for a few minutes. Knowing that wasn’t going to happen any time soon judging by the melee around them, she too longed to have some private time to herself to assimilate all that had gone on … particularly Fabian’s very public kiss on her lips.

Suddenly, in the midst of the clamouring throng, Aurelia Visconti appeared. The crowd parted like the Red Sea to let her through, so that the diva could reach the man whose attention they all seemed to crave, and all eyes were suddenly on her lush figure, shown off to maximum effect in a shimmering black gown with a plunging neckline. Deliberately not acknowledging Laura in any way, she curled her fingers round Fabian’s arm, as if to claim him for herself, leant towards him and whispered something in his ear.

He turned back apologetically to Laura. ‘I am sorry, but I am going to have to leave you alone for a little while. Do you mind? I will be back soon.’ His glance was rueful, but nonetheless told Laura that whatever he was going to do couldn’t be avoided. A faint swirl of his hypnotic aftershave drifted beneath her nose, and all of a sudden he’d left with Aurelia.

Seconds later the disappointed crowd reluctantly dispersed, leaving Laura standing there clutching her bouquet alone. Helplessly, jealously, her gaze followed the glamorous pair—clearly heading for somewhere more private. The moment the striking soprano steered Fabian out of the marquee altogether Laura felt almost faint from hurt and disappointment.

It wasn’t until the majority of the concert’s audience had left, and the remaining invited guests staying for supper had filed into another lavishly decorated marquee, that Laura saw Fabian again. With no sign of the possessive Aurelia—even though she was one of his guests of honour—Laura wondered what was the reason for the older woman’s absence. Glimpsing a distinct mark of scarlet lipstick at the edge of Fabian’s chiselled jaw, she felt her heartbeat go wild in anguished protest. She’d nursed the ridiculous hope that maybe the two weren’t as close as things indicated, but now she knew different. Clearly the two of them had slipped away to be intimate, and she had been left to talk to Fabian’s guests and reassure them of his imminent return on her own.

Suddenly the magic of the wonderful evening turned to dust, like a handful of brittle autumn leaves clasped in her palm, and as Fabian gestured that she come and sit beside him at the top table her feet obeyed reluctantly. There was suddenly a great impulse in her to escape and mull over her unhappiness in private.

‘You look very beautiful in that dress,’ he said, his accented voice velvety pitched and intimate. But Laura didn’t feel very beautiful. Not any more … Even though the dress Dante and she had finally chosen was a stunning creation of ice-green silk with a halter-necked front high enough to hide her scars and a back that plunged daringly low. All she could focus on was the lipstick mark left by Aurelia.

‘Very sexy. You must keep it and wear it just for me,’ Fabian continued, pinning her to the spot with his hot, hungry gaze.

Thinking of what he might have been doing with another woman just minutes ago, as well as the controversial business proposition that still awaited Laura’s answer, she feverishly grasped at the need for some perspective on the situation before her heightened feelings careened out of control.

‘You know I can’t do that.’ ‘Why not?’

‘Because it’s haute couture, and I’m well aware that it’s probably worth a small fortune!’

‘What high-minded principles you have, Laura! I have never known a woman to refuse a gift of mine yet, and you are not just any woman! You know what I refer to.’

She did—and the thought made her swallow hard.

‘It is still too much, Fabian.’

‘Then you would deny me the pleasure of giving you this gift, and that does not make me feel good.’

Although he was still smiling, his glance had slightly chilled, and Laura wondered how she had seemingly acquired quite the talent for saying the wrong thing to him.

‘I’m sorry … I didn’t mean to sound so ungrateful.’ Her spirits sank even further at his rebuke. ‘It’s an extremely kind gesture … thank you. And I didn’t get a chance to thank you for the massage earlier either.’

Embarrassed heat cascaded spectacularly through her as she realised how that might sound to anyone overhearing their conversation. Though this time Fabian was looking anything but chilly. Leaning even closer towards her—so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath skim across her mouth—he seemed suddenly fascinated by that particular part of her anatomy.

‘Would it surprise you to know that I was jealous of Giuseppe this afternoon? So jealous that I found it extremely hard to concentrate on anything else after I left you.’

‘Fabian … why isn’t Aurelia here?’

Her question, used to deflect the frighteningly intimate nature of his conversation, didn’t seem to particularly perturb him. Those broad shoulders of his, encased in exquisite tailoring, lifted in a nonchalant shrug. ‘She suddenly found that she had another engagement to go to.’

‘I wish—’

‘What is it you wish, Laura?’

‘I wish that you would tell me—’

‘Your eyes are full of questions … but we cannot discuss them now. I am afraid it might look like I am neglecting my guests if I just talk to you alone … as much as that is my preference.’

Giving her an enigmatic smile, he turned to the glamorous middle-aged mayor’s wife sitting on the other side of him, who was quite volubly announcing what a fantastic evening it had been and how she was already looking forward to the event next year.

‘Alla salute!’

‘What are we toasting?’

‘The welcome end to a very successful evening,

I think.’

As he pulled out a chair at a table for two, positioned on the terrace overlooking the olive groves, the peaceful Mediterranean night with its array of stars wrapped itself around them in a glittering dark stole. Fabian took a sip of his sambuca, savouring with pleasure the burst of warm aniseed that flooded his tastebuds. Opposite him, Laura took an experimental sip of the liqueur that was his personal favourite, and ran the tip of her tongue round her sweetly shaped top lip. A singular tightening gripped him low in his belly, and the quiet but forceful thrum of sexual need lit a match to his already heated blood.

Aurelia had done her best to entice him away to her own villa for the night, and had left in a huff when he’d refused her. But there was only one woman who interested Fabian enough right now for him to want to spend the night with, and that was the slender grey-eyed blonde, with her air of fragility yet uncommon strength too, in front of him.

‘Why welcome?’ she asked now, the thin stem of her liqueur glass positioned carefully between finger and thumb.

‘Because …’ he drawled, with a non-committal shrug. The protective wall he automatically employed when it came to his past had slammed into place. Now that the whole event was over there was a strong need in him to put it behind him and concentrate on the immediate future instead. A future in which he had certain hopes he was anxious would come to fruition.