HELEN BROOKS - Out of Hours...Cinderella Secretary - The Italian Billionaire's Secretary Mistress / The Secretary's Scandalous Secret / The Boss's Inexperienced Secretary

‘Mmm?’ he prompted, his lips close to her ears.

‘I’m…I’m having a great time,’ she answered truthfully, because in that moment she couldn’t think of a place she’d rather be.

‘Me, too.’ Tightening his hands around her waist, he looked down into her flushed face. Saw the way that her lips had parted. Noted the tiny pulse which hammered at the base of her throat. And suddenly he wanted to kiss her. Damn the ballroom, he thought. And damn the guests with their quick and curious eyes. Riccardo swallowed, pulling her even closer—wanting to demonstrate just how aroused she had made him. ‘I may just take you out for the day tomorrow,’ he added. ‘If you’re lucky.’

Angie’s heart missed a beat. If you’re lucky .

Maybe the words weren’t intended to be patronizing, but that was how they came across—or maybe it was because they were accompanied by the shameless thrust of his pelvis, so that she could feel the hard heat at the very cradle of him. It was nothing but a silent and arrogant sexual boast and it seemed to mock at her own romantic interpretation of the dance, making her feel stupid. Angie pulled back, ignoring the screaming objection of her body. ‘Sorry, but I’m afraid I’ll have to work tomorrow.’

He stared at her blankly. ‘Work?’

‘That’s what you supplied the laptop for, remember?’

He was in such a state of frustrated desire that she might as well have been speaking in Greek for all the sense he made of her words until his head cleared. ‘But you did that work this afternoon,’ he said quickly.

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘You didn’t?’

Angie allowed herself a serene smile. ‘No. I took a long bath and read a book instead, actually.’

A pulse began to flicker at his temple. Was this the beginning of rebellion—of Angie abusing her position simply because they’d become lovers? Why, in all the years of working for him she had never refused to carry out one of his orders. ‘That’s not what I wanted,’ he snapped.

‘Well, it’s what I wanted,’ she returned.

‘But I’m paying you to do what I want,’ he reminded her with silken cruelty.

‘No, you pay me to support you in a secretarial role.’ The words came out in a breathless rush, fuelled by a fury at what he’d just said and suddenly Angie didn’t care that they were in the middle of the dance-floor. Because wasn’t this long overdue? ‘Don’t you think I’ve done enough out-of-hours for you over the years to recognise when I deserve some time off, Riccardo? If you trust me enough to make me privy to all your confidential business dealings—then you should credit me with the judgement to decide when I want to ease off!’

There was a stunned kind of silence for a moment, and then he smiled. ‘Oh, cara,’ he murmured. ‘Your insubordination is such a turn-on that I can hardly wait until I get you into bed again. If only I’d realised that I had such a little wildcat hiding away all these years.’

‘Well, you’re the one who’s made me into a wildcat,’ she returned, without thinking.

‘Am I really? Then at least I have something to be grateful for.’ Trickling his thumb down over her hips in what felt like a proprietorial marking of his territory, he bent his mouth to her ear. ‘But you will forgive me if I leave you now. Much more of this on the dance-floor and I shall be dragging you off to the nearest alcove to peel off your panties and that really wouldn’t do, would it?’

And without another word, he turned and walked away and Angie was left staring after him with flaming cheeks and a hammering heart. Had he meant to drive home that her impact on him was purely physical? She felt faint, dizzy, and wondered how soon she could decently slip away from here—away from the eyes which she sensed were looking at her with open curiosity.

Distractedly, she went to the side of the ballroom and was just thinking about making her escape when she felt a tap on her shoulder and she turned to see Floriana standing there.

Up close, her mannequin-like appearance was even more apparent and Angie thought that the girl’s lips looked positively bloodless. Pushing thoughts of Riccardo out of her mind, Angie forced a smile. ‘Lovely party,’ she said.

‘Thank you.’ But Floriana’s smile didn’t meet her eyes. ‘Angie, would you like to come and see my wedding dress?’

‘Me?’ questioned Angie in surprise.

‘Please. You’d like to, wouldn’t you? I thought that all women liked wedding dresses.’

Telling herself she should feel flattered, Angie nodded. ‘Of course. I’d love to.’

‘Then come with me—but let’s be quick,’ the Italian girl urged. ‘Before Romano accuses me of neglecting my guests.’ Linking their arms as if they’d been lifelong friends, Floriana led her along one of the long corridors alongside the ballroom and which led to yet another staircase. At the top of the stairs was Floriana’s bedroom and as she pushed open the door Angie could see the gleam of ivory satin beneath Chantilly lace.

‘Oh, it’s beautiful,’ she exclaimed, walking over to where the gown hung, marvelling at the delicate fabric and thinking that this was the kind of wedding dress that little girls sometimes dreamed of. ‘Absolutely beautiful.’

‘Isn’t it?’ said Floriana, but her voice was flat as she shut the door and Angie turned round, her eyes narrowing with concern.

‘Floriana, is…is something wrong?’

There was a pause as the girl raked long olive fingers through her fringe, dislodging a diamond pin in the process but ignoring it as the precious clip clattered to the floor. And eventually, like someone who had finally thrown in the towel, she nodded. ‘I can’t marry Aldo,’ she breathed. ‘I just can’t do it!’

Realising that the girl was trembling, Angie walked over to her and put her arm round her shoulders, thinking how bony and birdlike they felt. ‘Listen—every bride gets nerves,’ she soothed, realising that she was echoing what Riccardo had told her. And you didn’t believe him, did you? ‘It’s perfectly natural.’

‘No!’ Distractedly, Floriana moved away. ‘It isn’t that, believe me. People keep telling me it’s nerves, but it’s not. I’ve allowed myself to get into a situation which should never have happened. I feel as if I’ve sleep-walked my way into a nightmare. Angie, I can’t go through with it!’

Angie stared at her uncomprehendingly. ‘But why are you telling me all this?’

Dark brown eyes were fixed on her unwaveringly. ‘Because you are an outsider.’

Angie flinched.

‘And you must be a sensible woman to have been employed by Riccardo for all these years. You will not tell me what you think I should hear. You will tell me what I must do.’

‘That’s too big a responsibility,’ Angie protested, shaking her head.

‘Please.’

‘What about your brothers?’ questioned Angie. ‘Can’t you confide your fears in them?’

‘In them? You have to be joking. They are so keen for this marriage that I suspect they would march me down the aisle!’ said Floriana bitterly. ‘They are nothing but tyrants!’

There was a long pause while Angie considered what to say. But Angie knew she couldn’t look into the frightened eyes of a woman panicking on almost the eve of her wedding, and pretend that everything would be all right in the morning.

‘And does Aldo—the Duca —does he know how you feel?’

‘I’ve tried speaking to him but he will not listen,’ whispered Floriana. ‘His mind is set on this wedding. He would never allow it to be cancelled. Every time I say something it is as if I have not spoken at all. For I am his trophy bride—his innocent virgin—or so he thinks.’