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

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 husband she had lost. Now that Laura was his wife Fabian felt even less inclined to visit both those subjects—yet he could not avoid doing so for ever. If he felt a little possessive and wanted to shut out the past for both of them so that it wouldn’t intrude on the pleasure of today—he told himself it was only natural. But he really did have a great desire to get to know her better and therefore, some time soon, he would have to find out the details about what happened to her. He fully intended to be the best husband he could be in this marriage. And if there were difficulties ahead, then he honestly believed they could be overcome because already they had a profoundly sensual connection that would go a long way towards healing any rifts.

‘It’s just as I imagined it would be.’

‘It is?’

Catching her hand and knowing a fierce pleasure in keeping it in his—Fabian smiled. In her white peasant-style cotton dress with its puffed sleeves and flared skirt, her blonde hair shining and her extraordinary eyes as excited as a child’s … she was definitely molto bello …

‘Bustling, busy and everywhere you look, something beautiful or fascinating to gaze at!’

‘I cannot argue with that!’ He was looking at his wife, with frank male appreciation, and she stared back at him with an expression that was both shy and surprised.

Then she smiled and hit him playfully on the arm. ‘You know what I mean!’

‘Yes, but we have barely even started our little tour of discovery yet! There are many amazing sights in Roma to see. First of all I want to take you to a coffee bar that does the best espresso in all of Italy! It is mostly only known to locals, but I think you will like it.’

‘Well, seeing as though I’ve become a huge fan of your beloved espresso in the weeks since I’ve been here, lead on!’

In the bustling aroma-filled coffee bar, with its array of monochrome photos of 1940s and ‘50s jazz musicians adorning the walls, functional unfussy wooden tables and sturdy chairs, Fabian chose seats by the window so that Laura could sit and ‘watch the world go by’, as she so charmingly put it.

She was like an excited child today, and her enthusiasm for being in his favourite city gave him a sense of satisfaction and pleasure that took him by surprise. He also had to keep curtailing a sudden great need to touch her and hold her, and the warmth that kept invading his insides whenever his gaze met hers he stubbornly put down to excitement and pleasure—not anything more meaningful. He had been down that road of self-deception before, with Domenica, and she had exposed him for the trusting, naïve, lovestruck idiot he had been—too blinded and besotted to know that his wife was fooling around behind his back.

Swallowing down the bitter memory, Fabian nodded towards the grey-paved square outside, complete with fountain and edged by yellowed crumbling buildings with dusty and in some cases ancient shop signs.

‘This place used to be a flower and fruit market, but now the sellers have dwindled to just two or three. It is now mainly used as a meeting place for locals.’

‘You sound like you know it well?’

‘I discovered it when I was a student here. My friends and I would often meet over an espresso here, or stand in the square and put the world to rights!’

‘And what did you study?’ She leant towards him a little across the table, her glance intensely interested.

Quirking a philosophical eyebrow, Fabian grinned. ‘What else does one study in Rome?’ he asked, teasing. ‘The history of art, of course!’

‘What an amazing resource you had for your re-search!’ Laura sighed. ‘It must have been wonderful!’

‘It was.’

‘And is this where you met your ex-wife, Fabian?

In Rome?’

His chest tightened uncomfortably. ‘No. I met Domenica in Tuscany. Her father was a friend of my father’s.’

‘Domenica? That’s a beautiful name.’

‘She was a beautiful girl … but unfortunately her heart was not so beautiful.’

‘Were you—?’

‘Let us talk about something else. I do not care to dwell on the past today … only on the future.’ His tone was firm.

‘And what about the present?’ Leaning back in the straight-backed chair, Laura was reflective. ‘Time goes by so quickly, and sometimes we don’t realise that moments are passing us by because we’re not paying attention.’

‘You have clearly spent a lot of time thinking about such things, I can tell.’

‘After the accident, when I was in hospital, I had nothing but time to reflect on what life was all about. And here in the west we take so much for granted. It seems to me there’s not much point in being given the gift of life if we never even pause to reflect on what is the meaning and purpose of it.’

‘Well … not everyone is as conscious or as appreciative of the gift we have been given as you, my sweet Laura. Most people behave as though they are going to be here for ever!’

‘Sometimes it takes something momentous like an accident or an illness to wake people up. Don’t you think it would be better if they woke up to their life before that point?’

‘I am beginning to think that I have married a budding psychotherapist!’

‘I’m sorry.’ A crimson tide swept into her cheeks. ‘I tend to get a little carried away when I’m talking about these things.’

‘Do not apologise. Passion and enthusiasm are not things to be ashamed of.’ Reaching for her hand, Fabian stroked his thumb back and forth over her flawless porcelain skin. ‘I like it that you feel things so strongly.’

‘Do you?’ Suddenly still, her steady thoughtful gaze dived deep into his. ‘I thought you believed that feelings aren’t to be trusted?’

An intensely awkward few seconds ensued as Fabian fought hard to keep his treacherous feelings under control. With a self-deprecating grimace, he lifted his coffee cup in the gesture of a toast. ‘You have backed me into a corner, I fear … touché.’

‘Well …’ Her hand shook a little as Laura swept her fingers through her hair, and he saw that she was embarrassed as well as a little upset.

He silently abhorred his inability to make the kind of real connection he secretly craved with her. Then, in the next second, he told himself he would get over it. His reactions were all at sea because for the first time in months he was starting to relax, as he was here in his favourite city with the pretty, vivacious woman who was going to give him the thing that he desired most … a family. He could surely be forgiven if he didn’t feel quite himself?

‘I can’t believe we flew here in a helicopter all the way from Tuscany!’ she finished.

‘I would never make half the meetings I have on time here in Italy without it,’ Fabian replied, grateful that the tricky moment had passed.

‘It’s such a different way of life you lead, compared to my own back in the UK.’

‘And do you think you will grow to like it?’

‘I hope so.’ Some of the light seemed to go out of her mercurial eyes, and the taut muscles around his stomach clenched hard in concern.

‘You seem doubtful?’

‘It’s going to take some adjusting to, that’s all. My feet feel as if they haven’t touched the ground for quite a while! And now that the dust has started to settle I find myself wondering what a man like you—a man who could probably have anything in the world that he desired—including his pick of beautiful women—sees in a woman like me?’

Her hand was touching her fringe again as she said this, and Fabian frowned. ‘If the scar bothers you so much, I could arrange for you to see a very good plastic surgeon. I do not like it that you feel it diminishes you somehow.’

‘I don’t.’ She flushed. ‘Not really. I’ve grown to accept my imperfections as time has gone on. In a way, having them has made me stronger … as well as less focused on the more superficial aspects of life. I’m just happy to still have my life after what happened. No … it was you I was thinking of, Fabian. You—with your beautiful house and beautiful things. You move in the kind of circles where these things matter. How will you cope with having a wife who hardly conforms to the standards of beauty your friends and peers might expect?’

‘First of all, it is a problem only in your mind, Laura … not mine! Do you think I care what anybody else thinks? After years spent living with my father I will not be dictated to on how to live my life by anyone! And beautiful things have their place, but I do not attribute such importance to them as you may think. So let us focus on the future we have resolved to make together, and not be so concerned with the opinions of others.’

‘All right. I’ll try.’

‘You have the strength to do anything you put your mind to. I have sensed this many times since I met you.’ ‘I suppose I’m a survivor … that’s why.’ ‘You are indeed a strong woman … I admire that.’ ‘It’s funny … but after Mark I—’ She cut the thought off abruptly, and even though he hated himself for it Fabian was glad.

Sitting in his favourite café on a glorious day with his pretty new wife, and contemplating an enjoyable afternoon’s sightseeing, he perhaps selfishly wanted to keep the mood as light as possible. And encouraging Laura to talk about her past would probably mean that she would then turn the tables on him. She had already tried by bringing up the subject of his ex-wife. Wanting to resist more pain, he stayed deliberately silent.

‘Fabian?’

‘What is it?’

‘Are you sure you don’t regret—?’

‘I am perfectly satisfied that I have done absolutely the right thing in marrying you, Laura. In time, you will also come to see that. Now, drink your coffee and do not spend another moment worrying. We only have a week here in Rome before we go home again, so let us just try and relax and enjoy our time together.’

CHAPTER NINE

IT WAS only the second day of their holiday. They were strolling through a busy piazza, having just exited a fascinating gallery of Renaissance art. One moment Laura was walking along, then the next it was as if she was in a dream sequence, where she was running but didn’t seem to be able to move fast enough.

Fabian had been talking quietly at her side, pointing out landmarks as they headed towards the great cathedral of St Peters’ and she had been entranced by everything. Then there had been the sound of rubber tyres screeching on concrete, a woman’s scream puncturing the air, and a child’s small perplexed face in the front of a small knot of people as the out-of-control motorcycle careened towards him at speed. Her attuned senses registered everything, and in less than an instant Laura found herself racing towards the child and snatching the small body safely up into the air as the motorcycle veered off course at the last second—but not before the handlebars glanced sickeningly against her hip.

Somebody—man or woman she didn’t register right then—pulled the now crying little boy out of her arms just as Laura felt herself sink to the ground in dizzying pain. The next instant Fabian was leaning over her, a stream of frantically voiced words leaving his lips but making no impression upon its recipient, his handsome face bleached of all colour and the sheen of sweat standing out on his brow. Wanting to reassure him, Laura reached out, but just as her hand touched his shirtsleeve darkness swallowed her whole …

She blinked, and blinked again. Her mouth felt like a dried-up riverbed, and the light—clinical and harsh—made her feel as if someone was sticking needles into her eyes. She heard a small sound leave her lips, but felt strangely detached from it—as though it hadn’t come from her at all.

‘Laura?’ A hand lay on top of hers, and she saw that it was Fabian’s. When she turned her head towards him she saw by his expression that he’d visited a place he never wanted to visit again.

‘Where am I?’

‘You are in the hospital. You saved a little boy from a runaway motorcycle and you were hit yourself. Do you remember?’

‘I don’t feel any pain.’

‘The doctor gave you a painkiller as well as a sedative.

You came round more or less straight away, but then in the ambulance you became very upset and agitated. Can you not remember anything?’

The concern and fear in his eyes seemed to double, and Laura again felt the strongest impulse to reassure him. ‘I’m sure it will all come back to me in time. The last thing I remember was walking towards St Peter’s … then there was that horrible sound of tyres screeching.’ Swallowing hard over a throat that seemed to grow more parched by the second, Laura tried to sit up.

Immediately Fabian stood up from his chair by the side of the bed and started to urge her back down against the single white pillow behind her head.

‘I need a drink … I’m so dry!’

‘Of course you can have a drink—but do not try and sit up so suddenly.’

The plastic tumbler of cool water tasted like nectar to Laura. A few thirsty sips and she felt her head clear a little. Enough to note that she was in a small screened-off area, with the attendant sounds of a busy casualty department audible outside it.

‘You risked your own life to save that child’s. It was an incredible thing to do, but perhaps incredibly foolish too. My heart has barely stopped racing since it happened!’

‘I’m sorry I frightened you.’

Her voice a mere husk of its normal tone, Laura stared at his still stricken face and knew she was perilously close to the kind of tears that would not be easily subdued. She felt as if something was unraveling, and she fought hard to contain the sea of emotion that swelled inside her. Fabian didn’t trust emotions, she remembered, and she wouldn’t disgrace herself in front of him.

‘The little boy … it’s coming back to me now.’ She held the side of her head and frowned. ‘He wasn’t hurt? And what about the girl on the motorcycle?’

‘The little boy was completely unscathed, thanks to you. His parents have been in the waiting room all this time, wanting to come in and thank you for what you did. The girl suffered a broken leg, I believe, and is having treatment as we speak. It could have been much worse for her … and you.’

There was that look on his face again—part fear, part admonishment for being so reckless. Laura sighed, glad to hear her impulsive rescue attempt had not been in vain, but also sad that what had started out a bright, hopeful day was now inevitably marred by events.

‘I’d like to go home.’ She wasn’t entirely sure what she meant by that … where was her home now? ‘Please … can we just go, Fabian?’

‘You have to see the doctor first. You will not be able to go anywhere until you are thoroughly checked over, and I will not be taking you anywhere until you are!’

Sinking reluctantly back down onto the pillow,

Laura shut her eyes to blank out the misery that suddenly descended. Why couldn’t he kiss her? Be tender? Say something kind? Because the kind of marriage she had entered into with him was not the kind that was born out of love on his part, she reminded herself. Now all she wanted to do was curl up tight into a little ball and try and become invisible.

He had died a thousand deaths in those surreal moments when Laura had suddenly left his side and sprinted like an athlete towards the crowd of people on the opposite side of the road. His heart in his mouth, Fabian had almost caught up to her when the motorcycle had reached her first, veered sharply to the left to avoid hitting her, and then—with sickening inevitability—glanced against her anyway.

After the child had been grabbed from her arms, she had sunk to the ground as graceful as a ballerina. For a moment Fabian had been paralysed by the shock of what had happened, then he’d been leaning over her, registering with violent regret the look of pain and puzzlement on her whitened face and cursing himself for not reacting more quickly and pushing her out of the way of danger. When she had passed out he had been half out of his mind with fear, thinking he might be going to lose her, and the relief he had experienced when she’d opened her eyes again had been off the scale. But Fabian had been even more traumatised by the scene in the ambulance.

The accident seemed to have triggered distressing memories of the car accident in which her husband had been killed, and Laura had cried out his name in anguish again and again—the sound almost cutting Fabian’s heart in two. Her arms had been flailing wildly, and the attendant paramedics had literally had to hold her down to prevent her from harming herself. That was when she’d been given the sedative.

Now back in his apartment, having been advised by the doctors to rest for the next couple of days, she lay on one of the sumptuous sofas in his living room, subdued and pale, her thoughts in a place where he couldn’t join her.

‘Why do you not try and sleep for a while, hmm?’

Lowering his hard lean frame into the armchair opposite, he rested his elbows on his knees. If a man could age a hundred years in one day, then he had surely done just that.

‘I don’t want to sleep.’

‘Are you hurting?’ Fabian’s stomach rolled in a violent somersault at the idea she might be. He glanced at his watch. ‘I can give you another painkiller in about an hour. They are very strong, and we have to be careful.’

‘You don’t have to nursemaid me!’

There it was again … that bitter edge to her voice that was so unlike the woman he had come to know it unsettled him completely. Shock and trauma had obviously set in, and he would have to be patient while she recuperated and returned to her true self.

‘Why do you reject my help?’ he asked, completely against his better judgement. Her repudiation had definitely touched a very raw nerve.

‘Because I can deal with this much better on my own! Why do you assume I need the help of any man? All they ever seem to do is hurt me and cause me grief!’ Biting her lip in anguish, she turned her face away from him.

‘You called out your ex-husband’s name in the ambulance … several times.’ His voice low, Fabian had to garner every bit of courage he possessed to even mention the fact. But something told him if they didn’t talk about it now it would fester between them like an untended wound that would grow worse, possibly poisoning any chance of truly making their union work.

‘Did I?’ Still she wouldn’t look at him.

‘You talk of grief. Do you still miss him? Want him?’ His voice sounded as if it rolled over gravel.

‘What?’

Easing herself up against the mound of cushions at her back, Laura stared at him.

‘I have never heard a woman so distraught … not since my mother, of course. But that was not because she cared about my father.’ Not liking the thread of pain that wove through his words, and jealous and fearful of the road his own questioning was taking him down, Fabian pushed to his feet. ‘You are clearly not over him … are you, Laura?’

‘How could you believe that after I told you I definitely wasn’t in love with him any more?’ Slowly she shook her head. ‘I regret that he died the way he did—of course I do! But I don’t miss or want him! Living with Mark was like living with a time bomb—he was a gambler, a liar and a cheat, and that was just for starters! I knew our life together was going to blow up in my face one day. He was insanely jealous and possessive, and at times I was a virtual recluse in my own home because he didn’t want me seeing either family or friends without him there. My only freedom was when I was working. As for my “talent”—that didn’t please him at all. Quite the reverse, in fact. He viewed it as a threat—a threat that I might one day have a ticket out of the prison I was in!’

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