Chapter Three
CHAPTER THREE
Four months later
P HOEBE TWISTED THE ring on her finger, mentally cajoling the final page of the report to hurry up and escape the printer. She was helping out her office junior because she had the magic touch with the temperamental machinery but frankly she was feeling pretty temperamental herself. She’d heard rumours that her new company might be a takeover target, but just ten minutes ago her boss George Scott hadn’t just confirmed the fact, he’d told her the deal was done and she was to head to the boardroom together with their top analysts, to meet the new management.
They were even getting a new name. Phoebe was shocked and honestly, scared. She liked this job. She liked old-school gentleman George. He appreciated her efficiency and he was nice, proudly showing her pictures of his grandchildren. She liked being in the smaller, family-feel firm. There wasn’t the arrogant alpha-capitalist boy behaviour she’d endured at the corporate bank where she’d worked her way up from receptionist to highly skilled PA. Making the leap to a boutique firm had been part of her rebalance. But apparently some enormously successful European entity was taking over and a rebrand was merely the beginning. There were bound to be redundancies and, as she was the most recent hire, she’d likely be in the firing line.
‘He’s arrived.’ Megan, the office junior, scuttled back from delivering refreshments to the boardroom, and shot Phoebe a stunned look. ‘ Nothing like I imagined.’
‘No?’
Phoebe didn’t have time to get details. She grabbed the last sheet and strode to meet Felipe Mazzoni, Head of Acquisitions for EDB International—the company she’d not heard of until now and hadn’t had a chance to research. But she was determined to make a good first impression. The boardroom was full but she wasn’t actually late. Just last. She walked in, head high, polite smile in place.
‘Ah, Phoebe, there you are,’ George waved her in. ‘Everyone, may I introduce Edoardo Benedetti—’
Phoebe glanced at the dark-haired man on the far side of the table just as he looked up and caught her gaze on the full.
Short hair. Angular cheekbones—the sort that looked like they’d been chiselled by a sculptor. What?
‘Edoardo is the CEO of EDB International,’ George added.
He was who ? Blood roared in Phoebe’s ears and the floor pitched beneath her suddenly unsteady legs.
They were supposed to be meeting Felipe—not someone called Edoardo. Definitely not this Edoardo. This Edoardo was Edo and he worked on a vineyard in Tuscany. Outdoors. Which was why he had a full body tan and seriously fit muscles and slightly callused hands. He had nothing to do with insurance . He shouldn’t have a suit that made him look every bit as sexy as when he’d been half-naked. He should be on some hill in the Italian countryside seducing all the other tourists he took to that pond.
‘Phoebe?’ George prompted. ‘Are you going to sit down?’
What? Oh. Yes . She was going to snap her mouth shut too. She sank into the last empty seat—directly across from his—and couldn’t stop staring. Deep-brown eyes locked on hers for a scant second before his focus dropped to the paperwork in front of him—not a flinch, not a gasp, not a flicker of recognition.
Maybe— please, please, please, to all the deities —maybe he didn’t recognise her. Or maybe he’d had so many lovers since, he’d forgotten all about her. Better still, maybe she was mistaken. Maybe this guy was Edo’s doppelganger ?
Yeah, no. He looked identical and had the same first name. She’d never found out his surname. It hadn’t mattered when it had been a perfect fever dream. She’d not tried to find him on social media. She’d kept it a treasure—close and secret. She’d not even told her best friends. Elodie had been away, Bethan had been busy at work. Phoebe had also been busy with her new job but determined to stay on her self-care plan. In fact, she’d recklessly splurged the last of her funds on a pretty ring at the airport when leaving Italy to remember that feeling of freedom and fulfilment. She’d chosen to wear it on her wedding ring finger—where Ryan’s had once sat—as a proud reminder that she needed no man to buy her anything. She could get what she wanted and needed all by herself.
Okay yes, it had also been to remember that very particular moment she’d had on the Tuscan hill side, but it turned out she didn’t need the memento because she’d thought about him every night since. At first it had been so seared in her mind she’d struggled to sleep, but since she’d dived deep into work at her new job she now slept like the dead. In fact, she’d snooze past a full twelve hours if she didn’t set a billion alarms on her phone. But she still saw his face just as she fell asleep—and every night felt a tiny, terrifying fear that nothing and no one else could ever compare to that moment. The most incredible sex of her life. The most fun afternoon of her life. No wonder she couldn’t stop staring at him now.
As George introduced everyone, Edo made direct eye contact and nodded to each person. Phoebe’s nerves tightened as her turn neared. He barely glanced at her, the split-second he did, his gaze was brutally cold. The iciness hit harder than when he’d literally knocked her down on a back country road in Italy. Not that it mattered, because sensation scalded her.
It was just like that day—she had a weird loss of co-ordination and hearing as once again the visuals overloaded her brain and short-circuited everything else. And then, to make everything worse, memories overwhelmed her—she’d trailed her hand down his sternum, tested his muscles, tickled him just because she could. They’d had fun . Heat suffused her as she remembered clinging to him as he moved inside her, pleasuring her to the point where she could no longer speak. They’d done everything and then some.
It hadn’t been enough. She wanted more—
Her mouth was now drier than the Sahara and she couldn’t swallow, let alone say anything. She reached for the nearest glass but completely underestimated how much her hand was shaking and instead of sipping like a normal human, she spilled it. The iced water splattered across her blouse—specifically across her left breast.
Could it get any worse?
Actually, yes. Because her blouse was white and the wet patch turned transparent. Worse, Phoebe had gained a little weight lately—still indulging in all things Italian. Namely pasta and gelato. So her boobs were popping over the top of her bra cups and now her all but sheer shirt had her turned on nipples on display for everyone to ogle whether they wanted to or not.
Could she die now? Quickly. Completely. Turn to ash.
Naturally she didn’t. And she didn’t have her blazer with her to cover up. She’d been in a hurry picking up that stuff from the printer because Megan hadn’t been able to fix the jam. Phoebe was good at sorting sticky situations. She was cool and calm under pressure. Not this time. It was too much to hope that no one would notice. There was total silence in the room and she felt the squirming second-hand embarrassment of her colleagues.
She put her hand up to cover herself and risked a glance in his direction. He’d looked down but his expression was now thunderous. The ambient temperature plummeted twenty degrees. Which made her shiver. Which then caught his attention. This time it was for a timeless second that she stared right into his dark brown eyes again. Every memory flashed. Every muscle melted. He was still insanely good-looking. Still mesmerising. Still set her libido on fire even when he glared at her like this. And she was sure he’d just read her mind and knew what she was thinking about, and now he looked even more grim.
‘Thank you for the introductions, George.’ Edoardo broke away and ended the awkward silence. ‘I look forward to getting to know you all.’ He glanced around the table again but skipped Phoebe entirely. ‘Unfortunately Felipe has been delayed so I’m here for a brief transition period until he’s able to get here.’
How long was ‘brief’? Please be a single day. Please let this man board a plane and head back to his company’s headquarters this afternoon.
‘As I’m sure you know, our focus at EDB is insurance and reinsurance. We also specialise in risk management.’
The senior analysts nodded, looking galvanised. Phoebe picked up a pen and pretended to take notes. After all, that was what she was here for.
‘While we’re based in Milan, we have offices around the globe.’ He cleared his throat. ‘As with any integration, there will be a transformation period, but we’ve pursued an aggressive acquisition strategy for some time, so rest assured we know what we’re doing. Disruption and staffing restructure will be expedient and ideally minimal.’
Staffing restructure .
Phoebe tensed, her worst fears confirmed. He was powerful. An apparent master of aggressive acquisition strategy —what, like the way he conquered women? Poor George having to see his life’s work swallowed up by one man’s strategy . Her anger brewed as he smiled at the others. He was arrogant. Greedy. Disingenuous. He was supposed to be a vineyard worker . She couldn’t trust the promise he’d just made. Especially when he didn’t so much as glance at her again. Their shared moment was a liability. There was clearly no chance they were going to be able to laugh about it, but they should be able to deal with it. Have one conversation then never mention it again—just forget about it completely.
Only she’d already tried to forget and very much failed. And now she was utterly on edge, her body aching . All she had to do was look at him and it happened—reckless lust.
But she had a mortgage to pay and while Bethan’s rent helped, money was tight. Phoebe was still paying back student debt from the degree she’d aborted in order to support Ryan and his career. Their divorce had left her worse off in so many ways. That holiday to Italy had been her first ever self-indulgent splurge. So she was not losing this job—especially not because of a man. She’d destroyed her future for a guy once already and she wouldn’t do it again—she simply couldn’t afford to.
* * *
Edo unfastened the top button of his shirt and ran his finger around the collar but loosening it didn’t ease his strangled feeling. Nor did the back of his neck cool from the exposure to more air. He stalked to the window, wrestling with the diabolical nightmare that Phoebe Copeland, the supposedly superstar personal assistant George had raved about for weeks, was his Phoebe. His snowdrop—looking particularly snowy today, it had to be said. Frigid perfection in that white blouse, grey trousers, her long hair half hidden in a neat low ponytail—a world away from the vibrant summer temptress he’d tumbled with.
His innards had ignited when she’d walked in and then memories hadn’t been the only thing to surge. It had been a complete brain and body response to her shining blue eyes and porcelain skin. She wasn’t supposed to be more beautiful than he remembered—than he dreamed night after night—yet here she was, unequivocally stunning, as if she’d been dipped in a dust that had enhanced every feature. He’d not trusted himself to speak. Not trusted his own body. But as the shock receded, complications clamoured in his brain. And then she’d splashed water on her blouse.
Worst torture imaginable.
He’d almost leapt to her aid but had seen her instant mortification. Had they been alone, he could have helped. Could have teased her. Could have touched . One look and he’d been right back to lust-a-thon. But they hadn’t been alone—they’d been in a business meeting—there could be no touching. It had been horrific.
He’d dragged up self-control and relied on muscle memory to deliver the introductory spiel he’d given many times. He’d not trusted himself to look at her again, certainly not smile. But he’d seen her anger flash while he’d detailed his company credentials. When he’d mentioned some smoothing of the company restructure, she’d gone tense. Which had set him on edge too.
Absorbing George’s company into his portfolio would mean staff changes—that was standard with any acquisition, but he’d try to keep them to a minimum, just as he always did. Frankly, he was proud of the low turnover and high staff satisfaction rates in his company reports. But there could be no accusations of bias in any restructuring process.
It shouldn’t be a problem. They’d shared a moment, that was all. He’d never wanted anything more—still didn’t—especially now he was effectively her boss. But his libido now hit worse than it had the night after their afternoon together. They’d had spectacular sex three spectacular times in quick succession and he should have been spent . He hadn’t been. He’d paced like a caged animal. In the end he’d drunk the best part of a bottle of whisky so he couldn’t possibly go to her. So he could forget . Unhealthy as all hell. And he’d been unable to resist visiting the cottage the next afternoon but she’d already left. He hadn’t known anything more than her first name—not where she lived or what she did for work—which was good, because by then he’d been even more desperate to forget her. The intensity of his attraction to her was too much. Knowing he couldn’t find her should have helped end it. It hadn’t.
He couldn’t forget the snowdrop-turned-siren. And now her employment at one of his companies was utterly abhorrent. Even when he was back in Italy, he would know where she was. What she was doing. That he could get to her…
Pull it together.
He didn’t want emotional entanglements. Ever. He certainly didn’t want complication. He would have a direct, calm conversation with her here in the soundproof boardroom with that one wall of windows, yes the glass was frosted, but it was still better than the full privacy— intimacy —a smaller office would invite. It was only a few days before Felipe should get here. It was going to be fine. Manageable. He would sort it out now and restore his focus on important things. He wouldn’t let anything distract him from work.
He sent an email summons and waited in his preferred position—seated with his back to the wall, table between them, eyes on the door. She arrived moments later. She’d changed her top.
Of course she would have a spare in her office. She was prepared for any eventuality—why, she’d had condoms in the bottom of her bag when she’d been on holiday, had a Botticelli print coin-purse stuffed with plasters and paracetamol as well—a miniature medical kit in case of emergency. She was the first aid queen—she probably also had a torch and batteries and who knew what else in there. She was every bit the efficient assistant George had praised. She was also stunning—her long limbs tailor-made to coil around him, her soft curves hidden now but his to reveal.
Edo didn’t—couldn’t—stand as she entered. Didn’t offer his hand or smile. Her presence was pure provocation. He tensely battled the urge to walk round the table, pin her against the wall and kiss her everywhere until she was hot and breathless, breathing his name in that broken way she did just before she came. He didn’t of course. But only just.
Appalling to be so debilitated by lust . It had never happened to this extent before—aside from that afternoon in Italy.
‘Take a seat.’ He jerked his head.
The desk was an enormous plank of wood between them. She perched on the edge of her chair and didn’t smile either. He forgot how to speak, never mind what he’d intended to say. He just stared—how she had this impact on him he didn’t know. But her eyes mesmerised him.
‘I wasn’t sure what you wished to discuss given you gave no indication in your immediate summons, so I brought a selection of senior management reports for you.’
‘You know this isn’t about any reports,’ he said more roughly than he meant to. ‘We have a situation.’
Her deep-blue eyes widened. ‘I disagree.’
‘How?’ he muttered bitterly.
‘I don’t think anything that’s happened prior to today needs to be relevant going forward,’ she said bravely. ‘I don’t allow my personal life to interfere with my work.’
‘Really?’ Did she honestly think they could ignore what had happened? Even though that was exactly what he’d intended they do.
‘There’s nothing between us.’ She added stiffly. ‘In fact I’d forgotten all about it until I saw you here earlier.’
‘You’d forgotten .’
‘Yes, and I think it best we both forget it again immediately.’ She shrugged her shoulders and avoided his eyes. ‘I won’t let some little incident from months ago jeopardise my job.’
A warning if ever he heard one. Was she thinking of blackmailing him into keeping her employed? The thin hold he’d had on himself frayed. ‘Well, I won’t let some little incident jeopardise my reputation in the industry.’
‘Then we’re in accord.’ She pressed her lips together.
Yeah, no. They weren’t. He couldn’t sit still. He rose and paced away from the windows to the back corner of the room where he rested against the wall—trying to get as far from her as possible. Even so, he homed in on her tension. She was worried about her job and he knew he ought to reassure her.
‘I’d been told you’re very good,’ he muttered.
She went impossibly more stiff. Yeah, that hadn’t come out quite the way he’d wanted.
‘Does that surprise you?’ she asked coolly.
He couldn’t answer. Wouldn’t lean into the innuendo he knew they were both hearing.
‘I am good at my job,’ she added. ‘I like my job. And I need my job.’
Frustration raked like nine-inch nails down his back. ‘I’m good at my job too,’ he growled.
Somehow this had devolved into a combat situation where they verbally went toe-to-toe, and it was worsening by the second.
‘ Your job?’ She shook her head. ‘What’s that, exactly? Swallowing up the little guy?’ A thread of emotion made her voice uneven and she suddenly jumped up.
Edo tensed as she paced towards his end of the room but she backed off, taking the wall opposite his.
Accusation gleamed in her gaze as she hissed at him. ‘George built this company from the ground up over decades and you’re just going to gobble it in one bite. His name gone for ever.’
He folded his arms across his chest as grim amusement—combined with irritation—ran through him. ‘Your loyalty is sweet but blind.’
Apparently she’d started working here after returning from her trip to Italy and while she’d thoroughly impressed George in these few short months, it wasn’t enough for the old boy to confide in her completely. This gave him perverse pleasure—the ultimate personal assistant clearly wasn’t perfect. And she certainly was willing to think the worst of him.
‘George asked me to take over,’ he said. He’d met George at industry events several times in the last decade. They’d always got on well and Edo had been touched when George had asked him for help. ‘Scott Insurance doesn’t actually meet my usual acquisition standards, however I’m willing to make an exception for an unwell, aging associate.’
He’d done this entirely as a favour to George, only now it had backfired in a wholly unexpected way.
‘Unwell?’ she echoed, her expression troubled.
‘You’ve obviously not been working here long enough to have George’s complete confidence and his personal life isn’t something I’m prepared to share with you.’
Looking stung, she bit her lip. ‘Is he going to be okay?’
The concern in her eyes forced him to relent. ‘He’s ready to enjoy his retirement.’
‘His grandchildren,’ she said softly.
‘Yes.’
Okay so George had talked to her a little. Of course Edo had wanted to support the elderly man in his desire to prioritise his grandchildren, especially given his own grandfather hadn’t at all. He’d abandoned Dante—Edo’s brother—in his most desperate hour. Ignored Edo’s entreaties in the most inhuman, callous of ways. And in the end, the worst had happened. Edo understood how much family ought to matter, which was also why he would never have one of his own. He—like his grandfather—wasn’t equipped to care for and protect anyone other than himself. But Phoebe’s snap judgement about this acquisition and her denial of everything between them stung. ‘I’m not the bad guy here.’
He was determined never to be the bad guy. That was why he remained alone.
She glared at him. ‘I thought you worked on a vineyard.’
‘In my holidays I do.’
‘You expect me to believe that a billionaire enjoys menial work in the holidays ?’ She lifted her eyebrows.
‘It’s my vineyard and, yes, I greatly enjoy working with my hands.’
She shot him a death stare. He would smile but he was too pissed off at himself to be able to. He was letting her get to him. But it hadn’t been some little incident and no way had she forgotten about it. That flicked like a whip on a raw welt and pushed him to test if it were true.
He slowly crossed the floor. They were far enough from those frosted windows but in his flash of temper he no longer gave a damn about anyone seeing them anyway. He just had to get closer to her and—
‘How’s your ankle?’ he asked huskily, skimming a glance down her body as he inched nearer.
‘Fine.’ She stood stiffly.
The closer Edo got, the more he drank in her features—the clarity of her deep-blue eyes, the delicate swirls of her ears, her enticing full lips. Desire washed over him, obliterating all thought. He hovered a breath away, barely holding back. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted her heat, her sighs, her softness, her sensational response to having him thrust—
No way could he work alongside her.
The electricity in his body short-circuited his brain.
‘My personal assistant will fly out and work with George,’ he snapped.
‘You’re side-lining me?’ She gaped. ‘Why?’
He couldn’t be near her. ‘Because if you’re my assistant here, we’ll have to work in close proximity.’
‘And?’ She tilted her head and shot him down, saltiness blooming in her eyes. ‘That’s no reason why we can’t work together. We’re adults. We’re professional.’
No reason? He glared at her. Irate with himself.
‘You’re here only temporarily, correct?’ she added. ‘So, it’s no problem. As I said, forget it. Or at least pretend as if it never happened.’
‘You really think that’s going to be possible?’ He couldn’t believe it.
‘Of course.’
‘So what, we meet in open spaces?’ He tried to pull himself together. ‘With other people present?’
‘Are you afraid to be alone with me?’
Honestly, yes.
‘It’s for both our safety,’ he ground out.
‘ Safety? Can you not control yourself?’
Apparently not. He stared— appalled —as she refused to look him in the eyes again. Suddenly he was very keen to prove that he wasn’t the only one feeling this. Because her body was sending him the wildest signals. She might’ve changed her top but the new one didn’t hide her entirely—he saw her arousal, saw her flush, saw lust in her eyes. It had strengthened with every step he took nearer. ‘I don’t think I’m the only one. I don’t think you can either.’
‘You’re unbelievably arrogant.’
But not wrong. He placed one hand on the wall either side of her head and held himself back from pressing against her. Colour stained her skin, he ached to feel the warmth of it, wanting to whisper in her ear, to nip that petite lobe again, wanted to spread her legs and—
‘Edo?’ she suddenly whispered. ‘What are you doing?’
He pressed his palms harder against the wall. He wasn’t touching her. He wasn’t . But just being this close sent chaos through his body. And—thankfully—hers.
‘Proving why we both need chaperones. At all times.’
More colour flooded her cheeks.
‘Proving that it wasn’t a little incident ,’ he added huskily. ‘It was wild. And I don’t believe you’ve forgotten a second of it. I know I haven’t.’
Her breath shuddered. ‘Edo—’
‘Don’t dismiss me,’ he muttered. ‘Don’t dismiss this.’
‘But this cannot happen,’ she pleaded.
‘Exactly.’
Yet neither of them moved. He didn’t want to. He cursed the situation. He’d never had an affair at work. Never even been tempted. Never ever thought he would. But right now? He was so on the edge and already behaving badly.
Her pupils surged—drawing him in until she bent her head and brushed back her hair, hiding her eyes from him and something glittered in the light.
‘What’s that?’ He lost his self-control as white-hot fury flared and snatched her hand in his to stare at the little blue stones set in a thin band. It looked like a dainty cross between an engagement and wedding ring. ‘Are you married ?’
She’d not been wearing a ring when he’d met her in Italy. Had she removed it? Had she cheated on her husband with him? Jealousy strained his already tight leash. He had to make a conscious effort not to squeeze her hand too hard in his outrage. ‘What the hell , Phoebe—’
‘It’s not a wedding ring,’ she snapped.
‘So you’re not married?’
‘I was ,’ she said jerkily.
Edoardo recoiled.
‘Obviously I’m not any more and haven’t been for a while and I never will be again, which is why I wear it on that finger, because I’m not available. Not that it’s any of your business.’ Incandescent, she tugged free of his grip.
Relief and fury coalesced, leaving him confused as hell. He gritted his teeth, but the curiosity leeched out of him anyway. ‘What happened?’
‘Nothing that’s relevant to this situation.’
Right. Angry, he glared at her. But those full lips tempted him—he would lick, taste, tease—he would make her tremble and take him in with that wild abandon. He almost lost it in the urge to haul her against him and trigger her surrender to their chemistry here and now and—
He was behaving appallingly . He was at work . She was trying to put him in his place and he should already be there. He’d just done everything he’d promised himself he wouldn’t. So much for self-control. Her personal life and her past weren’t his business. Except he wanted to smack the guy. And she was staring back straight at him with a passion that she couldn’t hide and he knew he was the same.
‘Phoebe—’
‘You’re right. We need to establish firm boundaries,’ she interrupted fiercely. ‘We’re never alone. We only discuss work.’
It was exactly what he’d wanted, except now he didn’t.
‘I meant what I said,’ she said. ‘I need this job.’
He took a second—two—to rebuild control and nodded.
‘I understand,’ he said curtly. ‘I’m not a jerk. Any employment decisions will be entirely merit-based.’ So much for a smooth conversation to circumvent awkwardness. He didn’t know what this was. Who he was. ‘I’ll be gone from here as soon as possible.’