Lucy Gordon - Her Italian Boss’s Agenda

She had a small twinge of conscience that perhaps she was being unfair to him, but only a small one. This was how the game was played.

She was really looking forward to dinner that evening.

As he gathered his things together, ready to leave, Primo was aware of an extra presence inside his head. He knew it was his conscience, hurling abuse at him, but as it grew more troublesome it was developing a personality uncannily like his brother’s in his more disagreeable moods. It even looked like Luke. He began thinking of it as Lucas.

You ought to be ashamed of yourself, it informed him sharply.

‘It’s just a joke that got a little out of hand. I’ll tell her the truth when the moment’s right-say, about the second glass of champagne. Now shut up!’

As he emerged he found Olympia looking worried.

‘Are you sure you’re all right to drive?’ she asked. ‘Why not call the hire company from here?’

‘No need. I’ll see you tonight, wearing my glad rags. Goodbye for now.’

To his relief the car’s damage was no more than an ugly dent, and it still moved well enough for him to get back to the hotel.

Lucas howled at him all the way.

This isn’t the way to behave. What would Mamma say?

She’s always telling me I should do something stupid. Well, I’m doing it. And how!

He’d said ‘glad rags’ so Olympia chose a floor-length velvet dress in dark green with a tight waist, clinging hips and a dramatic neckline. Her necklace and earrings were gold, and dainty high-heeled sandals gleamed on her feet.

She’d bought the whole outfit in anticipation of some future celebration-promotion?-but tonight was the start of a new life, and it would do fine.

She spent a long time getting her hair right. She didn’t want to be the stern Miss Lincoln tonight. In the end she drew it back more loosely than usual, then twined it into long braids that she wound around her head, giving a softened effect.

When he arrived his eyes flickered over her just enough to be subtle and flattering. He said nothing, but he smiled.

She allowed her own eyes to do the same. In his bowtie and dinner jacket he was more handsome than he had any right to be.

Downstairs he handed her gracefully into a new car.

‘The hire firm actually let you have another?’ she asked in disbelief.

‘I talked them round. What about your garage?’

‘The damage isn’t too bad. I told them to send the bill to me, as we agreed.’

‘Fine. I’ll transfer the money into your bank on Monday morning.’

‘No need. Just give me a cheque.’

He murmured something non-committal and slid away from the subject. It was dawning on him that he wasn’t cut out for a double life. There was so much to remember. He would get her bank details from the firm and deposit the amount in cash so that he wouldn’t have to give a name. Tonight he could have taken her to dine at the hotel where he was staying, but they knew him as Primo Rinucci, so that was out. When the bill for dinner came he would pay it in cash and brave the puzzled stares.

And in future he would ‘go straight’. It was less tiring.

They swept into the Atelli, arm in arm, and were ushered to their table. It was good to be treated like a queen, she thought. This man knew how to entertain a woman and make her feel valued.

It flitted briefly across her mind that if only he were Primo Rinucci, how perfect everything would be. But she shut off the thought. That way lay weakness. Tonight was ‘time out’ with a delightful acquaintance. No more than that.

When the wine had been poured and the caviare served he raised his glass to her and she raised hers back.

‘To a great evening and no strings,’ he said.

Such an unnerving echo of her own thoughts gave her a jolt.

‘No strings,’ she said slowly.

‘We’re going to enjoy ourselves, and to blazes with the rest of them.’

‘Absolutely,’ she said.

Solemnly they chinked glasses.

Over caviare, she asked, ‘What part of the country do you come from?’

‘North London. I’ll probably go back there for a visit. My father’s dead but some of his relatives still live there.’

‘How come you live in Italy?’

‘I go back and forth. I have some Italian family and I’m just as much at home in either country, although Italy’s warmer, especially Naples.’

‘Naples,’ she said, relishing the word. ‘I’ve always liked the sound of it. It conjures up such pictures.’

‘Urchins and cobbled streets?’ he teased. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for the romantic myth?’

‘Certainly not,’ she said quickly. ‘Myths merely get in the way of reality.’

‘Maybe one can have too much reality,’ he suggested.

But she shook her head decidedly.

‘No. Reality is what counts.’

Once he would have said the same, but now reality was seeming less important by the minute. What mattered were the spells being woven in the air about them. And what was reality, anyway?

‘I expect you’ll see Naples soon enough,’ he said.

‘I wish I could.’ She sighed.

‘If you want to get anywhere in the firm, you need to be familiar with everything. Perhaps you should start learning Italian.’

‘What do you mean, start?’ she demanded, offended.

‘Beg pardon, ma’am. How advanced are you?’

She responded with a flood of Italian words, not all of which were accurate, but it was still a pretty good effort. He was impressed.

‘How was I?’ she asked.

‘Not bad at all. You’ve been working hard.’

‘You bet I have! Not just since I knew about the take-over, but before that, since the first deal. I knew your firm was going to be important to us, and I wanted it to be me that did the wheeling and dealing.’

He was amazed at the intensity in her voice and the flashing of her eyes. Here was no ordinary ambition. There was a driven quality to her.

‘Leonate had better look out,’ he said. ‘Before they know it you’ll have taken over. Perhaps I should warn them.’

‘No need. I can make my point for myself.’

‘I’ll bet you can,’ he said with a touch of admiration. ‘The question is, would they be wise to take you on?’

She laughed, but then sighed.

‘It’s easy to talk, but I thought the prize was within my grasp this time, and look what happened.’

‘Curtis?’ He shrugged. ‘A minor prize. But now there are others, bigger, more glittering.’

‘Exactly,’ she said, brightening again. ‘It’s just a question of making the right moves and convincing the right man.’

‘And who is the right man?’

She took a deep breath. Her eyes were gleaming with the thrill of the chase.

‘Primo Rinucci,’ she said.

He stared, jolted out of the happy dream that had begun to swirl around him.

‘Who?’

‘Primo Rinucci. He’s the power in Leonate Europa, even I know that.’

‘Yes, but-you hate him.’

‘How can I when I don’t know him?’

‘Well, you sure gave a good imitation of it yesterday. “To hell with Primo Rinucci” was the kindest thing you said.’

She made an impatient gesture as if to say this was an irrelevance.

‘That was just talk. Now it’s time for serious business.’

‘And he comes under the heading of serious business, does he?’

‘Winning him over does, although it’s going to be harder than I thought, since he isn’t here.’

‘That would make it more difficult,’ he agreed solemnly.

‘I suppose he didn’t bother to come to England himself because we’re not big enough to take up his attention.’

‘You’re not doing very much for my ego,’ he complained.

‘I didn’t mean-’