Sharon Kendrick - Priceless

‘Make it seven-thirty,’ he instructed.

‘But—’

‘No arguments.’ Salvatore glanced at the expensive gold timepiece which gleamed against his wrist and his mouth hardened into an odd kind of smile. ‘Consider it done,’ he drawled.

And punching out a number on his telephone, he began to speak rapidly in Italian before turning his back on her—as if she was of no real consequence at all.

JESSICA carried on working at an increased pace in order to get everything done in time, but something had changed and it wasn’t just because she was alone in the office with Salvatore. Reserve and shyness had entered her body along with the rapid thunder of her heart as it suddenly occurred to her what she had agreed to. It was like every wistful daydream come true—her gorgeous boss was insisting on giving her a lift home in his chauffeur-driven limo!

And what, Jessica?

You think this is the powerful Sicilian’s not-so-subtle attempt to get you, his office cleaner, alone away from the office? Maybe so that he can try to seduce you? Yes, sure he is—and he won’t really be collecting you in a car at all, but in a glass carriage!

Just accept his generosity with good grace, she told herself as she removed a smear from the coffee machine with a fierce wipe. Enjoy the novelty of a trip home in a luxurious car—it’ll make up for all the patronising remarks he made earlier.

At seven thirty on the dot, she picked up her bucket and cleared her throat. ‘I’ll go and get changed then, sir,’ she said, feeling faintly foolish. ‘Er, shall I meet you downstairs?’

‘Mmm?’ Salvatore glanced up at her, his eyes narrowing as if he’d forgotten she was there. ‘Yes, sure. Where?’

‘Do you know where the back entrance is? It’s a bit tricky to find.’

There wasn’t a flicker of reaction on his rugged features. ‘Not really, but no doubt I can manage without a map,’ he said drily. ‘The car will be waiting and I don’t like to wait. So don’t be long.’

‘I won’t,’ said Jessica, and sped off.

But her heart was thundering as she pulled off her pink overall and untied the scarf, wishing that she were wearing something other than a plain skirt and jumper with a great big waterproof coat to put on top.

Yet why should she? This wasn’t the kind of job that you dressed up for—dressed down for, more like. She took off her flat black shoes and put them in the locker along with her overall and scarf, then set about brushing her hair—which was her one redeeming feature. It fell to her shoulders and, although it was a rather boring shade of brown, it was good and thick and nearly always shiny.

Jessica squinted into the mirror. Her face looked pale and drained without make-up but she found the end of a tube of lip gloss at the bottom of her handbag and her fingers hovered over it with hesitation.

Would it look a little obvious, as if she might be expecting something, if she applied some make-up? But suddenly, Jessica didn’t care. A woman had her pride, and even if she happened to be wearing cheap clothes then surely it wasn’t a crime to want to make the best of a very bad job.

Fortunately, because she had knocked off slightly early, there was no one else around. None of the other cleaners offering to walk to the bus-stop with her—or, worse, witness her sliding into the back seat of a fancy car.

Why, to any other member of staff it would look … Jessica went pink around the ears. It would look highly suspicious and throw a not very flattering light on her character.

But there was no time for any further doubts. He had specifically told her not to be late, so she grabbed her bag and hurried out. And sure enough there sat a long, low limousine purring like a mighty cat by the back entrance.

Jessica gulped down the dryness in the back of her throat. It was odd to think of someone regarding this kind of car as normal—when in her world it was the type of vehicle which was usually used for weddings.

Convulsively, her fingers clenched around the strap of her handbag. Weddings? Weddings ? Now what on earth had made that thought pop into her head? Probably because Salvatore had rather surprisingly asked her whether she was married. And why had he wanted to know that ?

But there was no time for further thought because a uniformed chauffeur was actually opening the door of the luxury car—for her !

‘Thanks very much,’ she said hurriedly, trying to slide into the back of the car as decorously as possible—something which wasn’t especially easy since Salvatore was sitting on the other end of the soft leather seat, his long legs sprawled out in front of him. His arms were crossed and she couldn’t make out the expression on his face because the interior of the car was shadowed, but she saw the glint in his narrowed eyes as he watched her.

‘So here you are,’ he murmured, though his initial thought was one of disappointment. His crazy scheme was just that, he realised. Crazy. With her cheap and bulky coat concealing her slight frame and her pale face she looked just what she was. Ordinary. There was no way that this young woman could accompany him to anything, other than perhaps to help carry his shopping in to the apartment. Who would believe that a man like him was dating a woman like her? Nobody with more than one brain cell, that was for sure. ‘Where do you live?’

Jessica sat bolt upright. ‘Shepherd’s Bush.’ She gave the name of the road to the driver, who then closed the interconnecting glass so that she was left alone with Salvatore. The last time she had felt as out of place as this was her last day at school, when she’d forgotten that it was a ‘no uniform’ day.

Salvatore’s mouth curved with wry amusement as he registered her stiff frame and uptight body-language. She was nervous, he realised. Did she think that he was about to leap on her? If so, then she clearly had an over-inflated view of her own appeal! ‘Relax,’ he said softly.

Jessica leant back in the seat—though the leather was so soft and squishy that it was hard to believe that she was actually sitting in a car.

‘This is really very kind of you,’ she said.

‘Not a problem.’

‘Where … where do you live?’ It seemed like a very personal question to ask—but what were the rules for a situation like this? She couldn’t spend an entire journey asking him if he was satisfied with the level of cleanliness in his office!

‘Chelsea.’

Of course he did. Rich, glamorous Chelsea with its glorious white villas and springtime trees daubed with cherry blossom.

‘I don’t want to take you out of your way, sir.’

The ‘sir’ seemed oddly inappropriate under the circumstances, but she was a thoughtful little thing, he realised. Salvatore smiled as he leaned back and glanced out of the window.

‘I can easily have the driver drop me off first if I choose,’ he said coolly. ‘But there are parts of your city with which I am unfamiliar—and so I shall see this place Shepherd’s Bush for myself.’

Don’t hold your breath, Jessica wanted to say, but instead she smiled back. She half wondered if she should chat and ask him about whether he was enjoying his time in England, but he seemed to have an aversion to small talk. And besides, he was the kind of man who liked to lead a conversation—not to follow it.

Salvatore felt oddly soothed by the silence which filled the car and which—surprisingly—she didn’t try to fill with inane chatter. Why could women never see the value in peace and always insist on shattering it with unnecessary words?

They drove through a rainy city and for once he felt completely cocooned within the purring warmth of the car. It was all too easy to take luxury for granted, he found himself thinking as the limousine slowed to turn into a road featuring a row of terraced houses.