Chapter Three
MIA ROLLED HER eyes and stalked to her desk.
The nerve of the guy; he was totally guilty and they both knew it.
Almost the second she’d sat down, her phone rang.
It was a stressed Adele, checking Sante was okay and telling Mia not to let him try to do anything for her and Bruno.
Mia couldn’t understand how Adele could work for someone as soulless as Sante let alone be so desperate not to cause him any additional trouble.
She just managed to stop herself calling out the older woman for coddling the jerk and managed to reassure her instead.
She would take care of it. But the way they treated him was ridiculous.
Mia wasn’t about to do the same. She would work hard, but she wouldn’t succumb to whatever spell he’d put on all his other workers.
It seemed the coders were clearly affected.
Mattia was the only one who’d arrived this morning, but the second he’d seen Sante was present he’d sent out an alert.
Four more had arrived in the past hour. They didn’t look scared.
They were excited. It seemed everyone in the office was amped that Sante had finally shown up.
But the man stayed in his office, his door imperiously shut firm.
However, as the office was all wooden floors and exposed brick and glass, a procession of staff wandered past, peeking to catch a glimpse of the rare and magical creature.
Sante Trovato was apparently a unicorn. He’d somehow manipulated them into thinking he was something wonderful.
No doubt his looks helped. The lean youth who’d taken her brother away had matured into an impossibly handsome man with unruly hair and bottomless brown eyes.
The sharp cheekbones, sculpted jaw and loose-limbed, rakish moves added to his ‘lost boy’ air.
Even in the perfectly tailored suit, there was a wildness about him that seemingly fascinated everyone.
But not her. She would never succumb to those looks—the grumpiness and mystery he exuded was a deliberate ploy.
She checked but there was nothing on the company website about him.
He hid the truth from everyone. No wonder he didn’t want her here—he couldn’t hide his true self from her and he knew she wouldn’t let him get away with projecting this false front.
But she would do a good job—just to spite him. She would get the office full and moving. She would get those shy coders in and despite her cynicism, Mia realised his employees’ obvious interest in him could be useful.
What he’d said about that cruise made a lot of sense.
Bruno had been forever reminding his wife that she didn’t have to work while on holiday.
Worse, Sante’s questions about his and Dario’s accident made conflicting, confusing doubts rise.
Mia knew that what she remembered wasn’t always a complete picture of the past. Sometimes she’d leapt to conclusions.
She’d assumed things because she’d not had anyone close enough—who cared enough—for her to ask the truth from.
And that included her brother Dario. The carefree times Mia remembered from when they’d lived in Capri with her mother—when they’d had picnics in the gardens and devoured leftover luxury hors d’oeuvres—had in reality been engineered by her brother Dario, who’d scavenged them from the kitchen.
Mia had only figured it out when he’d let a clue slip one day in a temper.
It had taken too long for her to see her mother’s absences for what they really were—the neglect of a woman desperate to find pleasure however she could.
Dario had always staunchly defended their mother, but eventually it had become clear how much he’d protected Mia from her neglect.
So had what she remembered about Sante also been wrong?
No. Since the accident, Dario had kept a lot to himself but he believed this about Sante.
Yes, he was distant and wouldn’t discuss it but her brother knew better than anyone how awful their father could be.
So for Dario to believe the worst of Sante, then some of it had to be true.
Even though she’d fought with Dario when he’d wanted to correct the terms of their father’s will, she knew her brother had always wanted to protect her. Now she would protect him in return.
Frustrated by her distraction, she went to the swanky office kitchenette and poured a glass of filtered water.
She leaned back against the counter to sip it, almost choking when Sante walked in, still looking tense.
He checked his step but then headed to the coffee machine.
His guard was clearly up and he was deliberately maintaining distance.
Full-of-mischief Mia couldn’t resist challenging him on it.
‘You worked through the night?’ She studied him.
He looked annoyingly good for such lack of sleep. That tallied with his general physical perfection. As a teen he’d been tall and broad and fit. Blessed with athleticism and intelligence. It was incredibly annoying.
‘You must be very tired.’ She hoped he was. Because if he had inhuman stamina that would just be too much.
‘Working long hours is normal for me,’ he snapped dismissively.
She barely refrained from rolling her eyes at his grumpy abruptness. But he saw and she was provoked into sarcasm.
‘So you feel the need to prove yourself smarter, stronger, fitter, faster?’ she queried. ‘In that total alpha male way of enduring discomfort and extreme suffering better than anyone?’
He sipped the scalding coffee without a wince and regarded her steadily, which made her all the more irrepressibly determined to provoke him into a response.
‘Well, at the very least you must be very hungry,’ she added.
She knew there was nothing in that gleaming fridge other than milk for the coffee. Replenishing it with more supplies was on the extensive list of questions she’d compiled for the boss if he ever made an appearance.
‘I am,’ he acknowledged with almost a whisker of a smile. ‘That cannoncino you demolished earlier looked delicious.’
‘Then you should go get yourself one,’ she said with a sharp smile. ‘Stretch your legs if you’ve been asleep at your desk. The fresh air might do wonders for your temperament.’
His jaw dropped.
Amused, her smile widened. ‘I’m here to manage your workers in the office, not be your personal slave.’
There was a moment of silence in which Mia regretted her unruly tongue as she watched Sante’s expression change from disbelief—and disapproval—to a look she didn’t trust.
Was he almost smirking? And why was she suddenly gripped by the awful vision of being helpless in his hold? And could he read her mind? Because he looked like he could and would and so would she.
OMG. If he looked at her like that, she’d do anything he asked. When he smouldered he was horrifyingly tempting. How could she be remotely attracted to Sante Trovato?
‘I thought you were going to create an environment in which my staff will thrive,’ he drawled.
‘Your staff, yes. I’ll make other purchases for them accordingly now I know you’re happy for me to.’ She shot him a faux smile. ‘I wouldn’t make purchases without prior approval.’
‘You might think you have all the answers, Mia, but know this. I don’t trust you. I’ll be keeping a close eye on everything you do here.’
It was a threat, not a come-on, but that wasn’t how her body reacted. It was a terrible idea to provoke him, but that impishness within Mia still wouldn’t be silenced.
‘Go ahead and watch me all you want,’ she murmured.
The atmosphere shimmered. She reminded herself that he was a callous user. He was the ruthless, money-hungry one. He was the one unworthy of trust. But she’d been in his presence for mere hours and her system was going haywire already.
Sante stared as colour swarmed in her cheeks and the cobalt-blue of her eyes deepened. She regretted that last, he knew. She also couldn’t move. In truth, nor could he. They were locked in a moment of awareness that was completely…completely…
He blinked. He could get rid of her. Of course he could. He was still in charge for all her bluster.
She broke eye contact and cleared her throat. ‘These are very nice facilities in the heart of Rome.’
He stilled, not trusting her flattery.
‘Amazing that you gained such vast success without early investment.’
By investment he knew she meant her father’s money.
The money he’d never taken. Sante had nothing to prove.
He’d long ago made it a rule not to give a damn what anyone thought and he deliberately kept people at a distance.
Their judgement was always instant and always negative, especially if they learned anything about his past—but ultimately he couldn’t care less.
Mia Lorenti wasn’t going to accept the truth so he wouldn’t be bothered even beginning to explain.
He wouldn’t justify. But her very blue eyes drilled into him with an almost insolent challenge.
‘I worked hard,’ he muttered.
‘Really,’ she said. ‘To go from school dropout to tech tycoon in a decade is pretty unbelievable.’
And she clearly didn’t believe he had. She thought he’d cheated. Yet, here she was, the one working an assortment of jobs that she didn’t stick at for long. She’d had the privilege of an aristocratic upbringing whereas he’d come from literally nothing and no one.
The one time he thought he’d gotten a break it had blown up in his face.
He’d left the UK straight after the accident.
He’d walked out of school without completing the year, forfeiting the university scholarship before they could rescind the offer.
Her father had made it clear that would happen.
The police might not have reason to charge him, but Lorenti had contacts and influence in other spheres.