Lee Wilkinson - Unwordly Secretary, Gorgeous Boss - Secretary Mistress, Convenient Wife / The Boss's Unconventional Assistant / The Boss's Forbidden Secretary

Unworldly Secretary, Gorgeous Boss

Secretary Mistress, Convenient Wife

Maggie Cox

The Boss’s Unconventional Assistant

Jennie Adams

The Boss’S Forbidden Secretary

Lee Wilkinson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Secretary Mistress,

Convenient Wife

Maggie Cox

The day MAGGIE COXsaw the film version of Wuthering Heights, with a beautiful Merle Oberon and a very handsome Laurence Olivier, was the day she became hooked on romance. From that day onwards she spent a lot of time dreaming up her own romances, secretly hoping that one day she might become published and get paid for doing what she loves most! Now that her dream is being realised, she wakes up every morning and counts her blessings. She is married to a gorgeous man and is the mother of two wonderful sons. Her two other great passions in life—besides her family and reading/writing—are music and films.

To everyone at the Miracle Café for the inspiration

I receive every time I go there!

‘MIO Dio!’

Jet-lagged and irritable, Fabian Moritzzoni pressed his fingers between his brows and sighed heavily. Finally, in complete exasperation, he rose up from his seat. Outside, the sound of passionately raised voices sliced through the atmosphere—an ill-timed bombardment he was unprepared for and could well have done without. And the loudest voice of all belonged to his housekeeper, Maria.

By the time Fabian reached the twin front doors of his palatial home, the tail-lights of a battered silver Fiat were careening away at speed down the wide, gravelled drive, and Maria stood glaring after them, her hands planted firmly on her amply fleshed hips as though she was quite prepared to take on the whole Roman army if she had to.

‘Are we being invaded?’ Fabian demanded in his native Italian. ‘Because that’s what it sounds like!’

‘The nerve of these people! The audacity! Who do they think they are?’ Turning her affronted gaze towards her employer, Maria passionately elaborated, ‘They were from the press, Signor Moritzzoni. I caught them sneaking around, taking pictures of the villa. Then, when I confronted them, they demanded an interview with you about the anniversary concert and about the celebrities that are going to be there. I sent them packing with a flea in their ear, I can tell you!’

‘They should be speaking to Carmela if they want an interview. No doubt she has organised something to that effect already.’

Shaking his head from side to side, Fabian sighed. Then, in spite of his irritable mood, he found himself succumbing to the wryest of grins.

‘I am fortunate indeed to have you around to protect my privacy, Maria. It is better than having a personal guard! But do me a favour, eh? Keep the volume down first thing in the morning … respect for my poor head, yes?’

‘Of course, Signor Moritzzoni. Shall I make your coffee now and bring it to you?’

‘That would be very good. Thank you.’

Taking his espresso coffee with him, Fabian followed the long, winding concrete path down to the elegant orangerie at the end of his lush private garden. Sitting down beside an intricately fashioned wrought-iron table outside on the terrace, he glanced back towards the graceful Palladian house that dazzled in the early-morning Tuscan sunshine, and at the plethora of pristine white marquees that had been erected in front of it. At the end of the coming week those marquees would be milling with the cream of Italian glitterati, as well as family and friends, all attending the now famous concert that Fabian organised every year in memory of Roberto Moritzzoni—his father.

The house was, inevitably, a hive of activity, in preparation for the big event. Add to that the altercation outside earlier with the press, and he craved some time alone to drink his coffee and think his thoughts in peace. Although the notion of peace and his father definitely did not go hand in hand …

The prospect of the coming concert had been playing on Fabian’s mind for days now, and had induced the tension and irritation in him that he’d come to know only too well. Add to that a frightening schedule, travelling here there and everywhere, and he had to own to not receiving the same satisfaction and pleasure from his work as he normally did. As a highly successful businessman, dealing in valuable art as well as giving support to several important and worthy charities, his presence seemed to be in almost constant demand, and lately he had had the compelling notion that he ought to jump ship for a while and really look at where his life was going. God knew, a review was well overdue.

Scraping his hand through the strands of his dark gold hair, he grimaced. With such a gruelling work schedule a restorative vacation seemed light years away, never mind the possibility of the other pressing item that had been on his mind of late— marriage and children.

‘So this is where you are hiding. Maria said that she’d seen you head this way.’

Her pretty mouth shaped into a teasing grin, his PA, Carmela, suddenly hove into view. He’d been so preoccupied with his thoughts that Fabian hadn’t even registered her approach. Inevitably accompanied by her trusty notepad and pen, she was clearly primed and ready for work. So much for time on his own to sit in quiet contemplation!

‘I have been back but one day in my own house, after my trip to America, and it is like returning to a football stadium! Apart from my private suite, I swear there is not one room anywhere that is not overflowing with people! Do you wonder that I have to hide?’ Fabian grumbled.

Carmela gave him another broad grin. ‘Poor Fabian! But I have some good news for you, so perhaps hearing it will cheer you up.’

‘And what is this good news you have to cheer me? You are not going on honeymoon just before the concert after all?’

Carmela’s grin disappeared. ‘Of course I am going on honeymoon, Fabian! I have already postponed it once in deference to the demands of work. Vincente is a patient man, but not that patient! No … I came to tell you that my friend Laura will be arriving from the UK later on this afternoon, and I will be showing her the ropes so that she can take over from me when I leave the day after tomorrow.’

‘Stepping into your shoes and handling such an important event is a big responsibility to put on the shoulders of a novice, Carmela. Are you sure this friend of yours will be up to the task?’

‘She’s been a music teacher for some years now, and has also organised some local concerts where she lives, so she’s not exactly inexperienced. And she will, of course, be very familiar with the artistic aspect of the work.’

‘Does she speak Italian?’ Pressing his fingers against the tender spot between his dark gold brows again, Fabian winced, as though some medieval instrument of torture was doing its best to bring him to his knees.

‘She’s a very fast learner, and when I was at school with her in London she was always top of the class in languages. Anyway, your own English is practically perfect, so you won’t have to worry.’

‘Good … just as long as she does not expect me to hold her hand and guide her every step! Quite frankly, I will be very glad when this whole tedious affair is over and my home can return to normal.’

Tossing back her head of raven curls, Carmela took instant umbrage. ‘The concert is a wonderful event that raises a lot of money for the children’s hospice. Surely you do not regard the privilege of holding it as “tedious”, Fabian?’