Lee Wilkinson - Unwordly Secretary, Gorgeous Boss

Stunned by the question, Fabian stared hard at Laura. A muscle throbbed in his cheek and for a long moment he struggled to stem the swift tide of resentment that flowed through his bloodstream. ‘Music meant a lot to him, yes. He considered himself an avid aficionado of the opera. He considered himself an expert in many things as a matter of fact! But holding the concert was not my idea. Far from it! My father left instructions in his will. Even in death, Roberto Moritzzoni wanted to ensure that he was not forgotten. He did not easily let go of his possessions or his life.’

‘I see.’

‘I doubt that you do, Laura. But perhaps one day before you leave the Villa De Rosa … I will explain.’

Moving his coffee cup out of the way, Fabian concentrated his focus on the list of dignitaries in front of him. They were all—with the exception of some of the key performers in the concert—ex cohorts of his father’s who still ‘milked’ their association with Roberto Moritzzoni for all it was worth. As if they had not dined in the style of kings enough throughout the years at the expense of Fabian’s family! At that moment he honestly felt like putting a lighted match to that damned list and having done with it. Glancing up, he saw that Laura had quietly made her way back to her desk, her attention captured by whatever was on the computer screen in front of her. What would Roberto have said if Fabian had introduced someone like her to him as his wife-to-be? He could hear the old man’s mocking laughter even now, after all these years, at the thought that he would even entertain such an absurdity! Everything about her would have been wrong, he realised—starting with the fact that she was not Italian. Add to that the probability that she had no important or useful family connections—that would be two more strikes against her suitability. As for her looks and figure—Roberto would no doubt have disparagingly dismissed her as too pale, too thin, and not maternal or voluptuous enough to be the bearer of his grandchildren …

‘Bigoted old fool!’ he muttered savagely beneath his breath.

‘Is something the matter?’ At the other side of the sun-filled room, Laura studied him in surprise. ‘You seem upset,’ she pressed, when he did not immediately reply.

‘You are right. I am upset. Thinking about my father usually ensures that reaction. He was not the most—shall we say … pleasant of men, Laura. He could be quite cruel in fact … especially to those that were closest to him. Does that shock you?’

Her sweetly shaped mouth turned down a little and her big eyes looked concerned. ‘Cruelty always shocks me … even though I know it is hardly rare in the world.’

Fabian grimaced. ‘Then let us change the subject and think about something more pleasant. If you want to restore my good mood, perhaps you would be kind enough to go and get me some more coffee?’

‘Of course. I’ll go and find Maria and get you some.’

She was on her feet immediately, her shy gaze touching him briefly as she left the room, and as Fabian watched her go he was filled with a longing that he didn’t dare examine too closely. The kind of longing that could definitely play havoc with their fledgling boss/secretary relationship.

SOME of Fabian’s well-heeled friends turned up unexpectedly for lunch, and he insisted that Laura join them. They ate al fresco, at a table on another spectacular terrace overlooking a lush sea of olive groves. The sun shone and the wine flowed, and although her boss showed an interest in the conversations that went on around him—even occasionally laughing or smiling with his companions—Laura detected that his mind was not entirely focused on the present.

As she cut a sweet red apple into neat quarters and bit into one, she recalled his surprising comments about holding the concert in his father’s memory. The revelation that he had been a cruel man had disturbed her—mostly because of how that must have affected the young Fabian, growing up. Now that she’d gleaned his relationship with Roberto had been less than idyllic—and that obviously this concert held in his memory was reminding him of the fact—she wasn’t surprised that Fabian’s thoughts appeared to be elsewhere. She couldn’t begin to imagine the money, time and effort it took to organise one of these impressive events—and how much must he be resenting that if it was something he did out of duty and not love? Could it be that he was willing the whole event to be over instead of anticipating it with pleasure?

Her curiosity and concern deepening, Laura lifted her gaze—only to find it on a collision course with Fabian’s. Next to her, an Italian count with an unpronounceable name laughed hard at a joke he had made—but she barely registered the sound because once again she’d dived into that flawless blue ocean and found herself short on oxygen. Expecting him to say something, she was honestly deflated when he didn’t, but simply glanced away again and started talking to the elderly gentleman beside him.

‘ Lo zio , Fabian!’

A small girl with glossy brown pigtails and eyes the colour of luscious cocoa appeared at the top of the terrace steps, ran towards the table and climbed onto Fabian’s lap. Weaving her sturdy brown arms around his neck, she buried her head into his chest.

‘Cybele!’

There followed an affectionate demonstration of delight bar none from Fabian, and Laura watched him make a fuss of the child with a sense of almost dizzying surprise and pleasure that she couldn’t deny. They made the most compelling tableau—the man with the kind of masculine beauty that would haunt you to your grave and the enchanting dark-haired child—and an old longing swept through her heart and made her want to weep, because she knew it would probably never be realised. A longing that had been almost utterly destroyed by a relationship turned dramatically wrong.

Everyone around the table was either applauding or making some admiring comment about the child’s beauty and their host’s obvious pleasure in her company. Simply for being herself, the child commanded all their attention. But that was just as it should be Laura thought smiling.

‘Scusa, Signor Morittzoni?’

Now Maria appeared at the top of the steps, puffing and clearly out of breath in her sombre black dress, a delicate lace handkerchief mopping the perspiration that beaded her brow. From what followed, Laura gathered that Cybele was her grandchild, come for a visit. Delighted to learn that Fabian was home, she had rushed ahead to find him.

Fabian told Maria not to worry. He was more than happy to see the child, and asked if she would like to stay and have some food with them. Maria thanked him, but insisted that Cybele go with her and let the grown-ups enjoy their meal in peace. The child went reluctantly, waving goodbye until she and her grandmother finally disappeared from view.

‘What a gorgeous little girl!’ Laura remarked.

‘You like children, signorina?’ The elderly man next to Fabian leant towards her across the table, the thin, faintly bloodless lips beneath his military-style moustache curving in a knowing smile. ‘Yes, I do. Very much.’

‘Then you will make a perfect mamma! But first you need a husband, si?’

There was a chorus of approving laughter, and as Laura tried to field the wave of embarrassment that swept over her at suddenly being the centre of so much attention Fabian’s penetrating gaze seared into hers with undisguised interest. But he said nothing.

‘Put everything on hold for while … we are going out.’

Re-entering the office after a short but necessary meeting with Maria and her kitchen staff—Laura stared at Fabian in surprise. She got the distinct sense that he’d been pacing and thinking hard about something in her absence, and the tousled appearance of his golden hair indicated he’d tunnelled his impatient fingers through it several times.