Rebecca Winters - Affairs Of The Heart - The Italian Boss's Secret Child

The train stopped, mid station. Heads lifted from newspapers and novels, knitting needles stopped clacking and fifty heads swivelled around, searching for some explanation for the delay. The speakers crackled into life with the grim news. A minor derailment ahead and a delay of at least an hour. Fifty disgruntled passengers gave a collective groan, giving up any hopes of an early start, and pulled out mobile phones to relay the news before turning their attention resignedly back to their activities.

At least an hour. Another hour to think about what she had to do. Another hour for her insides to rebel. It was the last thing she needed today. She glanced at her watch, realising she wouldn’t be at work anywhere close to being in time for her meeting with Damien and rummaged in her handbag for her own mobile phone. At least she could let him know she’d be late.

Damien knew the moment she arrived. Standing with his hands in pockets, gazing out over the view of the city, he’d heard the soft ping of the lift bell and the whoosh of the doors and he’d known instinctively that she was finally here. He was sure those were her hurried footsteps tearing along the plush careting, and already he could even imagine the scent of apricots drifting along the corridor.

Funny how he couldn’t get that scent out of his head. Even in the chalet in Klosters, surrounded by beautiful women, perfumed and perfectly made-up and offering the ultimate après-ski experience, it had been the faint scent of apricots that had haunted his dreams. For someone who’d almost made a career of studying the effects of different perfumes on women, enjoying the effects of perfume on them, suddenly they no longer appealed. They were all too heavy, too sickly, too cloying.

It hadn’t been a good holiday. Instead of being relaxed he’d had too much time to think. And there were two women he couldn’t get out of his mind. One was a woman who’d let him make sweet love to her and then disappeared off the face of the earth, a woman who defied every attempt of his to track her down.

The other was a paradox, a strange mixture of innocence but with a hidden core, a centre he was finding more beguiling as the layers came off. And when he’d wanted her, she’d turned him down flat.

No one had ever done that before.

Two women, two totally unsatisfactory experiences. No wonder he was having trouble sleeping.

And now one of them couldn’t even make it into work on time. Things were going to have to change around here.

He heard her brief greeting to Enid and the older woman’s reply, followed by a low, ‘He’s waiting for you. Better go straight in.’ It sounded to Damien like a warning. Damned right.

He waited until he could hear her footfall near his door, her breath rapid but soft, as if she was trying not to let on she was worried. He turned.

‘You’re late!’

‘I’m sorry, but—’

‘Our meeting was for nine o’clock. It’s now closer to ten.’

‘I phoned you…Enid—’

‘You don’t work for Enid. You work for me. When you can be bothered to turn up.’

‘That’s not fair—’

Her protest was cut off with a violent slash of his hand through the air that ended with a slam of his open palm on the desk.

‘Are these the sort of hours you expect to be paid for? Because there’s no place for freeloaders in this organisation.’

‘I can’t help it if the trains are late.’

‘It’s your job to get to work on time. Period. If the trains can’t get you here on time, find a reliable form of transport.’

‘I’ll work through lunch. I’ll make it up.’

‘Damned right you will.’

‘Fine,’ she said with a sniff, pulling herself upright that way she did as if it added inches. ‘At least we agree on something.’

He stopped, the wind taken out of his sails as soon as she’d stopped defending herself. His pause gave him his first chance to really look at her. Her soft linen shift fitted her well without being tight, its pastel tones cool and perfect for summer. By contrast her hazel eyes were blazing but instead of her face glowing red she looked so pale, her skin almost translucent.

‘Are you okay?’

Something flared, bright and potent in her eyes, before it was just as quickly extinguished. ‘Perfectly well.’

‘It’s just that you look a bit…washed out.’

Could he tell? Was it that obvious?

‘Er, I ran all the way from the station and…’ She licked her lips. She’d been going to wait until after their discussion of the roll out of the new campaign, but maybe this was as good a time as any. It might serve to wipe that pompous look off his face.

He watched her. ‘And?’ he prompted.

‘And I’m pregnant.’

Stunned silence met her announcement. But only for a few moments. Then all hell broke loose.

‘You’re what?’

‘I’m pregnant.’ Actually, now that she’d said it out loud, she felt pretty good. It was good to say it. It was good to tell someone who didn’t have the title of doctor before their name. A smile made its way to her lips as her hand rested over her tummy. ‘I’m having a baby.’

His eyes followed the movement of her hand but there was no accompanying smile. In fact the way his lip curled made him look positively hostile.

‘How the hell did that happen?’

She shrugged, still unable to stop smiling. That smug look of his was nowhere to be seen. ‘The usual way.’ She thought about that for a second more, enjoying the experience of turning the tables on him. ‘Or not so usual, I gather.’

He grunted, clearly unimpressed, his anger wrapped around him like a shroud. ‘I didn’t pick you for being careless. I certainly hope you’re more responsible when you’re at work.’

‘I was careless? Oh, that’s rich, coming from y—’

‘If you don’t mind,’ his terse words interjected, ‘we’re supposed to be talking about the campaign—that is, if you’re up to it.’

‘Of course I’m up to it. But Damien, I need to tell you that—’

His body jerked up in his seat. ‘That what? You’re not thinking of leaving the company, are you? That would be damned inconvenient after promoting you. I’m relying on you to see this new campaign through.’

‘No, nothing like that. Not unless you think I should.’

‘Why would I think that?’

‘Well, it’s just that…’

She paused, aware of a disturbance down the hall which was rapidly escalating into a commotion—someone was arguing with Enid. A moment later the door was flung wide open.

Her mouth dropped open as her ex-fiancé, carrying a large bunch of stem roses and a bottle of champagne, burst in with Enid close on his heels.

‘Excuse me, Mr Chalmers, you can’t go in there.’

‘Relax,’ Bryce crooned as he lit up one of his dazzling smiles. ‘I’m sure whoever this is—’ he nodded dismissively towards Damien ‘—will excuse us. Philly and I have important business to discuss.’

‘Mr Chalmers, would you please leave. This is not Ms Summers’s office.’

‘Don’t worry, Enid.’ Damien took a step back as he lowered himself into his chair, sensing an opportunity to learn more about the secret life of Philly. First pregnant, now this character, whom one could only assume to be the father. Was he the reason she’d knocked back Damien’s advances at the Gold Coast?

He felt himself bristling at the thought.

Bryce completely disregarded everyone’s presence but Philly’s, sitting himself down on the desk opposite her. She made an attempt to get up but he pushed her back down, thrusting the bunch of flowers into her lap. ‘For you, sweetheart, and hey, you’re looking better than ever.’ He leaned over and pecked her on her still open lips before he began removing the foil from the top of the champagne bottle.