Chapter Two
SANTE TROVATO TENSED as rage ricocheted through him. Again. If he didn’t hold himself on lock he’d forcibly manhandle her out of the building or, worse, silence her in another diabolically inappropriate way involving their mouths. He was giving in to neither of those impulses.
Stolen her brother’s idea? Taken blood money from her father?
She was utterly deluded. But her accusations stirred memories he’d ruthlessly suppressed for years, and his head spun as he struggled to catch up on a catastrophe he’d not seen coming.
‘Is that what you think happened?’ he muttered tightly.
‘It’s what I know happened. I was there.’
Hatred radiated from her. Dario Lorenti’s little sister was hissing like an aggravated kitten, fury pushing her not only to provoke him, but punish him as well. To make him pay.
Just over ten years ago, he’d been at boarding school in the UK with Dario.
They’d been friends then. As close as Sante had been to anyone.
They’d busted out of school one weekend—gone to a music festival.
But Sante had gotten lost on a back country road in Wales.
It was black as pitch and he’d slowed—but not enough.
He’d lost almost everything in that instant.
But what Mia thought had happened was a shockingly far-fetched twisted version of the truth.
He hadn’t taken her damned father’s money, but he had been the driver in the crash that had almost killed her brother and smashed his leg.
And no, it didn’t matter that Sante had modelled the physics of the crash on a computer over and over again and knew, fully knew, that there was no way he could have avoided it, he still felt guilty about it.
He would always feel guilty about it. Just as he would always feel guilty about not protecting his foster brother years earlier.
Those facts proved he wasn’t meant to be around people much, but he was too on edge, too defensive, to explain any of that to her.
‘If I’m such a monster, why do you want to work for me?’ He glared at her, ignoring the intense pull he felt towards her on a molecular level. He was not touching her again. Never ever.
‘Let me repeat it for you one more time. Slowly.’ She glared back, adding an even more patronising inflection to her irritatingly precise intonation.
Her Italian was laced by that posh English accent, instantly giving away her status.
‘I’m not working for you, I’m working for Adele. She’s the reason I’m not leaving.’
As if she were some holier-than-thou saviour stepping in to protect his best, most highly paid, most trusted until now, employee from his appalling treatment?
‘I won’t let her down,’ she added, tightening the screws.
Mia couldn’t claim the moral high ground.
She was a Lorenti, and the greed and ruthlessness she’d just assigned to him was nothing on that of her own family.
A fact which made Sante certain that playing protector to Adele wasn’t her only motive now.
Bitten as he was by the urge to toss her onto the street, he would find out her intentions first, then neutralise her.
He scooped up his phone. ‘Then let’s see what she says.’
He’d initially thought that as Adele hadn’t pushed to get hold of him, it meant that whatever had happened wasn’t that bad.
Now he knew the truth was the total opposite.
Bruno had to be desperately unwell because while Sante had given her a lot of power, Adele would never normally hire someone to step into the office without at least consulting him.
He stared at Mia as he waited for Adele to answer, trying not to feel a hit that Adele hadn’t confided in him.
But he didn’t have personal relationships with employees.
Not with anyone, in fact. He’d dated on and off over the years before remembering that he hated the prying into his past that inevitably eventually occurred.
So now he was a misanthropic loner who had the occasional one-night stand and that was the way he liked it.
He had plenty of projects and properties to occupy him.
But Adele had been his only employee for the first few years, and she’d stuck with him all this time and she hadn’t told him she was in trouble.
Of course she’d stuck with him only because he paid well.
But he paid her well because she was intelligent and reliable.
Until now, when she’d hired the sister of his enemy.
Not that Mia was a threat to him in any kind of murderous way, but her presence forced Sante to revisit a deep injustice he couldn’t stand to consider let alone resolve.
Adele wouldn’t have known anything about that when she’d contracted Mia.
Sante—and Mia’s father—had worked in their own very different ways to ensure that.
Adele finally answered his call and the second she did he heard the strain in her voice.
He immediately regretted doing this in front of Mia.
He’d wanted to see her squirm; instead, he was the one feeling wretchedly uncomfortable.
He met Mia’s cool blue gaze as he offered what he could for Adele—money, more resources—and clenched his teeth when Adele distractedly assured him everything was okay and that she just needed time and that she was so sorry for letting him down but that she knew Mia would be doing a wonderful job for him.
Hearing her anxiety, Sante could only bite harder before confirming that indeed Mia was, and that he would be in touch again soon.
Mia’s chin lifted in triumph. But Sante couldn’t contradict Adele or subject her to a barrage of questions when she was so obviously masking her distress.
He ended the call, even more frustrated.
Adele wouldn’t accept direct help. He’d have to figure a more creative way to ensure she had all the support she needed.
He would also have to discover all he needed to know about Mia directly from her.
Given her attitude, he was going to have to watch her every move.
‘Did you find out what you needed to know?’ Sparks flickered in Mia’s eyes, enhancing their blue.
Sante surveyed her defiant stance with bitter, fatalistic amusement. ‘Not everything. I need your résumé.’
‘I’m already hired.’ She folded her arms across her chest.
Sante wished she hadn’t. It had been a defensive gesture but all it did was enhance her glorious shape.
Focus. He cleared his throat and distracted himself by picking up a pen. ‘For now, but I’d like to understand exactly what Adele saw that she thought you’d be such a perfect fit.’
She took another step into his office—filling up all his vision and causing maximum discomfort.
‘Adele has worked for you for almost a decade and never let you down.’
‘She didn’t know who you really are,’ he muttered acidly. ‘You deceived her.’
‘You still think that was some elaborate plot?’
‘I don’t believe she told you how long she’s been with me but didn’t tell you my name.’ He stepped forward to expend just a smidge of the extra energy racing round his body.
‘She only ever refers to you as Saint. It’s like a bad joke.’
Sante glared at her. Adele did call him that and it was a joke between them. About the only one they had.
While it ought to be unbelievable that Mia hadn’t known who she’d be working for when talking with Adele, it was possible. Sante fiercely guarded his privacy—everything personal about him was locked down both online and off—but not for the insulting fabricated reasons she’d inventoried earlier.
‘I still want a copy of your résumé,’ he said coldly.
Mia Lorenti came from a family of users who thought money could buy them anything they wanted.
Why did she even need to work? Hadn’t her jerk father left her a few million when he’d died a few years back—making Dario some pretentious duke or lord or the like?
It galled Sante that he even knew this much.
Maybe Mia had partied her way through her inheritance already.
Well, she wouldn’t be in his offices by the end of the day.
He would pay her off if he had to—whether he’d have to buy out her entire contract or offer more, he didn’t care.
The Lorenti family was all about money, so it was only a matter of meeting her greed.
Then she would be gone and he would forget that searing moment of sensual attraction.
‘I’ll email it as soon as I have a minute.’
‘You have a minute now.’
She pinned him with those ice-blue eyes and lowered her voice. ‘Try to make life difficult for me and I’ll sue you for constructive dismissal.’
He almost smiled. ‘I see you have your father’s negotiation skills.’
‘I’m nothing like my father.’ Stiff with outrage, she stalked out.
Sante stared after her. Well, that got a reaction. Scoring a hit felt good because her fictional list of his supposed failings earlier had bruised. Why should he care what she chose to believe? He rubbed his temples and turned back to his desk.
In the bathroom before, he’d seen fury bloom in her eyes as it had slowly dawned on her who he was.
She’d eventually recognised him. Because they’d met before.
He forced himself not to consider the curves he’d glimpsed, but to think back to the eighteen months he’d spent in the UK that had changed his life.