Chapter Two #2
He’d spent one summer at Westwick, her father’s stately pile in Wiltshire.
At the time Sante would have said it was the best summer of his life—certainly, it had been his only holiday.
The only time he’d had away from the boarding school aside from sports tournaments.
A few months before the accident in their final school year, it had been a summer of freedom.
He and Dario had spent the afternoons training for sport, learning to code on Dario’s computers half the night and spitballing app ideas—the more ludicrous the better.
He’d naively believed he might finally have a future he could look forward to.
Dario had been his best friend—hell, he’d have considered him the brother he’d never had apart from—no.
He slammed the door on that earlier, even more devastating, memory. He could never go there.
Dario’s father had come home twice during that summer and his presence had instantly changed the atmosphere of the place.
But there’d been another occupant in the house aside from the stand-offish, clearly disapproving, staff.
Mia Lorenti. At least five years younger than Dario, she’d been a rambunctious kid with long, messy hair, loud laughter and who sang as she skipped down the long corridors of the manor.
He’d not interacted much with her, he’d been busy plotting with Dario, but he finally let himself remember the last time he’d been face-to-face with her.
She’d been in the reception area of the hospital when Sante had finally made it there a full twelve hours after the crash.
She’d been tired, tear-stained, so young and he’d asked her how Dario was. She’d not known.
But she’d clearly believed whatever she’d been told about him since.
Stolen idea… Blood money…
He swallowed the bitter betrayal at the scope of the lies her father had spun.
Sante had no real need to defend himself, yet he felt oddly compelled to.
It would be a futile undertaking. It wasn’t as if he could just tell her and expect that she would believe him.
People always believed the worst. And he refused to have her opinion matter.
She wasn’t a kid now. Now she was tall, curvaceous, utterly beautiful and utterly unable to be ignored in any way.
He wasn’t actually attracted to her. He’d just experienced a basic bodily reaction to copping an eyeful of breasts spilling over lace bra cups—unexpected, and his reaction had been visceral.
Automatic. Frankly, animal. Because he’d had barely any sleep and his brain had gone primeval on him because of it.
Frustratedly, he refreshed his email. No CV. So much for the efficiency everyone was raving about. Still, the longer she took to fulfil his request, the better, right? If she failed in her duties he could get rid of her even more quickly.
In that instant his email pinged a notification. Mia’s CV. He read the document five times and was no less apoplectic by the end of the ninety seconds that it took. He snatched up the phone again.
‘Get back in here,’ he ordered gruffly.
She appeared in the doorway in moments. Chin high, the epitome of spiky defiance.
‘Do you order all your employees about with such devastating charm?’ she asked. ‘No wonder none of them like to make an appearance in the office.’
Sante chose to use few words at the best of times but to be actually rendered speechless was new, even for him. And he pushed against it.
‘Close the door.’ He cleared the gruffness from his throat.
Her eyebrows lifted.
‘Unless you want everyone to overhear how spectacularly unqualified you are to work for me,’ he elaborated.
‘We both know I’m far too qualified.’ She closed the door and leaned against it.
‘Aside from the lawyer to keep you out of jail, your accountant to track your ill-gotten billions and an older woman you take advantage of because she’s desperate to support her unwell husband, you only employ university dropouts and ex-hackers—none of whom are actually present right now. ’
Sante gaped, then clamped his mouth shut.
It seemed Mia had no problem in using many words—albeit unwisely.
She was being deliberately and outrageously provocative and to his utter bemusement he suddenly felt the urge to laugh.
Not an appropriate reaction, and he dragged up an element of severity. ‘You were a nanny.’
Amongst an assortment of other temporary and vastly different jobs in a variety of places. But Mia was basically British aristocracy, so why had she spent the past five years working an assortment of weird and frankly low-paying jobs using an alternate surname?
‘Yes.’ Fire flickered in her eyes and she lifted her chin proudly. ‘I was a very good one. I have the employer recommendations to prove it. Feel free to phone and check them.’
* * *
Mia crossed her fingers behind her back. Sante Trovato was calling her bluff but she was bluffing right back. Still smarting from the humiliation of standing in front of him while he’d spoken with Adele, she wasn’t letting any weakness show.
Adele had made her ‘saint’ of a boss sound ancient and somewhat infirm.
She’d said he spent a lot of time working from his private estate and that he needed gentle handling.
It was complete rot. Sante Trovato was an absolute villain.
He’d left her brother trapped in a smashed-up car on a country road in the middle of the night.
He’d been Dario’s friend, then taken so much from him.
She did have exemplary references from every job other than the first. She’d fudged the embarrassing end to that one but she’d learned her lesson. Never again would she make the mortifying mistake of having an affair at work.
Ordinarily, she would be the first to admit she wasn’t perfect.
As a child she’d been full of mischief, but after her mother’s death she’d moved to her father’s home in England and become ‘always makes mistakes Mia.’ As the old jerk had repeatedly berated, she was too boisterous, too capricious, too loud, too much.
But while she was well used to never pleasing authority figures, Sante was no saint and his searingly obvious judgement stirred her full rebellion.
Mia had long ago accepted there was no real way to ease the pain Dario had suffered, but maybe she could make Sante pay just a little.
He rose and walked around his desk, slowly advancing upon her with a thoughtful expression in his eyes. ‘My employees are not toddlers.’
‘No, but they have some traits in common with the little darlings,’ she said. ‘They like to nap. Take time out to play. Have the occasional tantrum.’
His lips twisted. ‘Are you stereotyping my coders?’
She shrugged. ‘I’ve managed recalcitrant children. I’ve managed egotistical genius chefs in a five-star restaurant and exhausted crew on a ship coping with overly demanding wealthy clients in the middle of a ten-week luxury cruise. I can handle your teenagers.’
His jaw flicked. Was he about to smile?
The man had a shocking amount of magnetism despite his grumpy demeanour. Good-looking even when frowning, his rare flash of a smile was electrifying. Looks like his were actually a weapon.
She stiffened even more. ‘I can pull people together.’
‘You think I want you to pull them together?’
‘Adele said that you wanted to get your workers into the office for the same two days in a week, isn’t that correct?’ she asked. ‘I’ll create an environment in which they can thrive.’
Mia was neither daunted nor fazed by that challenge. She knew how to treat spoiled children. But Sante Trovato was more than spoiled. He was selfish and he had no empathy.
He blinked. ‘That was something she and I discussed.’
‘Well, it might be helpful if the CEO were to lead by example.’
‘You’re saying you want me in the office?’
‘I’ve been here ten days and this is the first one you’ve bothered to show up.’
He glared at her. ‘I have no immediate travel plans. You have ideas for bringing them back in?’
‘I have a plan,’ she fudged.
‘Talk me through it.’
‘I prefer to show, not tell.’ She was fully employing delaying tactics.
‘Actions over words?’ He cocked his head. ‘Do you really think I’m going to let you do whatever you want with my workers?’
Why did that sound inappropriate? She arched her eyebrows at him. ‘Maybe you should. Give me rope to hang myself, right? Then you can fire me legitimately without having to resort to threatening behaviour.’
‘How did you meet Adele?’
‘I was the activities coordinator on a cruise she and Bruno were on a couple of years ago.’
‘A cruise?’
She bristled at his obvious distaste. No doubt Sante would hire a luxury yacht and ensure he never had to see any staff, the supercilious jerk.
‘A big one with a lot of customers and a lot of activities to coordinate. I’m extremely good with spreadsheets and rosters.’
‘It was a cruise to Norway.’
‘Yes.’ She was taken aback. She’d not had the impression he would know anything about it. ‘We got on very well. I always thought it a shame that she had to work most of the time she was on board.’
Sante’s lips twisted into a small cynical smile. ‘I paid for that cruise outside of her usual remuneration. Adele only accepted on the proviso she would work while she was away. Adele loves her job. She’s been with me for years.’
‘I know. It’s a true mystery as to why.’
His lips twisted. ‘Perhaps I’m a good boss.’
‘Well, you are out of the office more often than not…’ Mia mused. ‘I suppose that would be a bonus.’