Lucy Gordon - Her Italian Boss’s Agenda

‘That doesn’t sound like me at all. There must be some other reason.’

‘Maybe you preferred to keep me around so that you could inflict dire retribution?’

‘ That sounds much more like me,’ she said triumphantly. ‘How did you come to have such a nasty accident?’

‘I forgot that the English drive on the wrong side of the road.’

His droll manner made her laugh again, but then she said, ‘You really do spend most of your time in Italy, then?’

‘A good deal. I’m at home in many places.’

‘And you’re part of Leonate, and that’s why you’re over here?’

‘Uh-huh!’ he said vaguely.

‘And then you have to report back?’

‘I shall certainly describe what I find, but I think, for the sake of my dignity, I’d better leave yesterday’s events out of it. I wasn’t trying to trap you. I just acted on impulse. I have a peculiar sense of humour.’

‘I have no sense of humour at all,’ Olympia said at once.

‘That would account for it,’ he said. ‘I’ll make a note of that for my report.’ He pretended to write, reciting the words slowly. ‘No-sense-of-humour-at-all.’ He seemed to think for a moment before adding, ‘Problem-to-be-considered-at-later-date. Suggest-dinner. Then-duck.’

‘Get outa here,’ she said, laughing reluctantly.

‘Do you mean that literally?’

‘No, I guess you can finish your breakfast first.’

They shared a grin, and he wished Luke could have been here to see him now. Luke often accused him of having no sense of humour, and that was true enough-with any other woman.

But this one brought laughter welling up inside him, filling the world with light and warmth. It was strange that she could be a witch as well, but he would solve that mystery later. Or maybe he would never solve it. For the moment he just wanted to be here.

‘So what do you say?’ he asked.

‘About what?’

‘About dinner. Shall I duck, or make a reservation at the Atelli Hotel?’

She was impressed by the name of London’s newest luxury hotel.

‘That sounds delightful,’ she said. ‘But only if you’re well enough to go out.’

‘I’m fine now. We’ll have to see about the cars this morning. Where do you take yours for repairs?’

‘There’s a good place about a mile away. Are you sure about paying?’

‘Quite sure,’ he said firmly. ‘Enough of that. Aren’t you going to open those Valentine cards?’

He had resolved not to ask, but his will, so often a source of pride to him, seemed suddenly to be pitifully weak.

‘I guess I might,’ she said casually.

The first one was an elaborate confection of red satin and lace which had clearly cost a fortune. The message inside read,

I’ll never forget. Will you?

He glanced at her face, but beyond a faint smile it revealed nothing.

Slowly she opened the other two. Both were large with pictures of flowers. Neither bore a name or a message.

But her face changed as she looked at them, growing soft, tender, with a smile that was pure delight. When he spoke to her she didn’t hear him at first.

‘I’m sorry, what was that?’ she asked, sounding as if she’d been awoken from a dream.

‘I said, you obviously know the two guys who sent those cards.’

‘I know who sent them, yes,’ she agreed, hoping he wouldn’t notice how she’d changed the words.

‘And they must feel fairly sure that-I mean-’

‘They’re both people I’m very fond of, and they know that.’

‘Yes, that’s what I figured. But doesn’t it get a bit complicated?’

‘Why should it?’

‘Well-do they know about each other?’

‘Of course they do. What do you take me for?’

He was beginning to wonder.

‘Which one of them sent the flowers?’

Olympia shrugged mischievously.

She made no further comment, but when she rose to go to the kitchen she lingered a moment to caress the velvety roses and inhale their scent with her eyes closed and a look of exhilaration on her face.

‘I’ll go and get ready,’ he said abruptly.

When the bedroom door had closed behind him she slipped into the bathroom and took out her cellphone, which she’d made sure of taking with her. Before dialling she turned on the water so that there was just enough noise to muffle her words.

She heard the ringing tone, then a familiar male voice. ‘Hallo!’

‘Dad? They’re beautiful.’

‘Ah, they got there.’ His voice faded as he turned away and she heard him say, ‘They arrived OK,’ followed by a woman’s squeal of excitement.

‘And the cards,’ she said. ‘They’re both lovely, but you shouldn’t be so extravagant.’

‘We couldn’t decide between them, so we sent both.’

‘You’re mad, the pair of you.’ She chuckled. ‘What other parents send their daughter Valentine cards?’

‘Well, like we said, darling, you changed the world, being born like that, when we’d given up hope. Here, your Mum wants to talk.’

Her mother’s cheerful voice came down the line. ‘Do you really like them, darling?’

‘It’s lovely, Mum-as always. But what about you?’

‘Oh, I got roses too.’

‘So I should hope.’

‘And next year-maybe there’ll be a real young man.’ Her mother’s voice was hopeful. ‘Oh, I know you said never again, but your father and I are keeping our fingers crossed.’

‘Don’t hope for too much, Mum. You married the only decent guy around. After Dad they broke the mould.’ Then an imp of mischief made her add, ‘Actually, there’s one here now.’

‘You mean a man who stayed the night?’

‘Yes.’

‘In your bed?’ Her mother sounded thrilled.

‘ Mum! You’re nearly seventy. You’re supposed to be old-fashioned and puritanical and tell me to save it for marriage.’

‘Your Dad and I didn’t. Anyway, one must move with the times.’

‘Yes, he was in my bed, but don’t get too excited. There’s only one bed in the apartment and he had a concussion so I looked after him, and that’s all.’

‘Is he good-looking?’

‘That really has nothing to do with it.’

‘Oh, nonsense dear! It has everything to do with it.’

‘Well-all right, yes, he’s good-looking.’

‘As how?’

‘He’s in his late thirties, tall and-well, his eyes are-really quite something.’

‘What did he think about your cards and flowers?’

‘He was-interested.’

‘You didn’t tell him they were from your parents, did you?’

Olympia chuckled. ‘Nope. You taught me that much savvy.’

‘That’s right. Keep him guessing. Oh, this is lovely. I must tell your father. He’ll be so excited.’

‘Mum, you’ve got a wicked mind.’

‘Of course, dear. It makes life so much more interesting. Are you going to see him again?’

‘We’re having dinner tonight.’

‘ Harold!’ her mother shrieked. ‘ Guess what!’

There was an indistinct mumbling, followed by her father’s bellow of, ‘Best of luck, darling!’

She hung up feeling happier, as she always did when talking to her parents. She could never quite figure out how those two had come this far without discovering that love and marriage were snares for fools. She only prayed that they never did discover it.

For herself, it was too late to forget what she had learned. The finer feelings were not for her. There was ambition, and there was having a good time. Tonight she was going to enjoy them both. Jack Cayman was charming company, although it was true, as she’d told her mother, that his good looks were an irrelevance.

But what really mattered was that he came from the centre of power; he would know Primo Rinucci and could tell her how to aim for her goal. Tough times and hard work lay ahead, but a person could have some fun in the meantime, couldn’t she?