Annie West - The Flaw In Raffaele's Revenge

Still he said nothing, as if waiting to see how far she could go connecting the dots.

Exasperation rose. ‘Is there a particular angle I’m to focus on?’

‘I told you. Everything. The size and nature of his income. His business associates. His interests, his weaknesses and habits. Who he sleeps with. The lot.’

Was it imagination, or did that stare harden?

She didn’t imagine it. His voice when he’d said ‘who he sleeps with’ was different, his Italian accent stronger, like rich chocolate coating a lethal stiletto blade. She fought to repress a shiver. Whoever Robert Bradshaw was, whatever he’d done, she’d hate to be in his shoes.

In that instant Lily felt what she’d understood only intellectually before: Raffaele Petri would be a dangerous enemy.

Just as well she was too insignificant to be his enemy.

‘I see.’ She didn’t, but clearly he wasn’t going to enlighten her. ‘Okay. I’ll do the best I can.’

‘That’s not good enough. I need to know you’ll deliver the goods.’

‘You’ll get your report, Signor Petri. But it will take time. This is a broad brief.’ She waved one hand, trying to look brisk and organised, despite the chill sinking between her shoulder blades. ‘His commercial interests and associates I can uncover. I’ll do a thorough check on all those. His property and lifestyle, ditto. But there are limits.’

‘Limits?’ Dark eyebrows rose as if he’d never heard the word.

‘I’m a researcher, Signor Petri, not a private detective. If you want information on this man’s personal life, you’d do better hiring one of those. They can stake out his residence and give you an account of his comings and goings.’

He was already shaking his head. ‘I learned long ago not to trust them. I want results, not excuses.’

Surprised, Lily leaned forward, then froze as she registered a warm, spicy scent. It teased her nostrils, sending shockwaves of delight to her belly.

It made her think of photos she’d seen of this man years ago. He’d lain half naked on a rumpled bed, jaw shadowed and his arms raised behind his head in a pose that accentuated the impressive musculature of his chest and arms. The sight had coaxed millions of women to buy decadently expensive aftershave for their men.

Was that what she smelled now? Lily inhaled, wondering at the art of producing a fragrance that seemed so purely natural, like hot male flesh and forbidden longing.

Abruptly she pulled back, trying to remember her train of thought.

That was it. When had he used private detectives in the past, and why didn’t he like them?

His expression made it clear he wouldn’t answer.

She shrugged. ‘It’s up to you. I’m just warning you that there are limits to my capabilities.’

‘Yet you once worked in a private detection firm, even received some training.’

Lily stared. He knew that about her? She tried to recall how much detail she’d included on her résumé, but what really surprised her was that he’d read it personally.

‘It was a long time ago and I didn’t qualify as a private investigator. The work didn’t suit me.’ She’d got sick of grubbing around in people’s personal lives. Commercial research was much less seedy.

‘But you have the skills. I want everything, from Bradshaw’s finances to his phone records.’

Lily laid her hands in her lap, maintaining her aura of calm despite the alarm bells going off in her head.

‘Unless you have a warrant, phone records are protected.’ She paused, breathing deep. ‘Obviously you’re not talking about hacking into phone company records.’

Those straight, decisive eyebrows rose. ‘Aren’t I? But I understood you included hacking in your skill set.’

Lily reared back, her seat sliding away from the conference table. ‘How did you know that? It was years ago.’

Her breath came in staccato bursts. It had been years since anyone had mentioned her one brush with the law. She’d been just a kid, bored from being alone so much, cut off from her friends by the regime of medical treatment and surgery she’d undergone. And by the fact that to a lot of her schoolmates she’d become a freak. Not just because of her scars, but because she’d been the one to survive. She’d wondered if they felt guilty because secretly they’d have preferred it if her popular friend Rachel had lived, not her.

Emotion tugged at her like an ocean current, threatening to pull her under.

Instead she focused on Raffaele Petri—so strong and arrogant and utterly in control. She’d bet he’d never felt overwhelmed or insecure. Surprisingly, that worked. Her racing pulse slowed.

‘I chose the best for this project team, with the best skill set. Your short-lived career as a hacker was impressive. It’s a wonder you got off so lightly.’

Lily crossed her arms over her chest. ‘I was underage. And I did no damage.’

‘No, just managed to break into one of the best protected and encrypted government databases in the world.’

* * *

‘If you hired me to break the law, think again, Signor Petri. I won’t do that for any client.’ She sprang to her feet and paced away.

That was better. At last he read something definite in Lily Nolan. Not just anger but indignation and surely a little fear?

He didn’t want to scare her. But she’d sparred with him for so long he’d begun to wonder what it would take to probe past her control. Even when she was angry she’d been coolly poised, a challenge, a mystery he couldn’t resist prodding.

Not now. Now Raffa saw the woman behind the mask of calm self-sufficiency.

What he saw heightened his interest.

Lily Nolan’s eyes flashed fire as she turned to face him. Her lips moved in what he was sure was an unconscious pout of defiance. A pout any red-blooded man would respond to.

Except he was her boss.

He never harassed his staff.

Besides, he wasn’t into kissing. He’d perfected the art from necessity but never really enjoyed it. It was a tool like any other to get what he wanted.

Raffa stilled, surprised at his blurring thoughts. He didn’t want to kiss Lily Nolan. The idea was farcical.

He wanted to understand her. Label and catalogue her so she no longer took up even a scintilla of his brain space. Then he’d move on to more important things.

Yet now he’d provoked a reaction he wanted more. Contempt welled. Had he turned into what he’d always abhorred? A wealthy man so self-absorbed his only delight was toying with others?

‘You have scruples, Ms Nolan.’

She strode back to stand close, hands on her hips.

‘There are lines I won’t cross, Signor Petri. Breaking the law is one.’

Spoken like a woman who’d never experienced real need. Raffa’s mouth tightened. He knew precisely the depths to which poverty and desperation could drive people.

Or was that the excuse he used to justify his past?

‘Not even for money?’

Those eyes weren’t muddy brown now. They looked almost pure amber, rimmed with honey brown, and they met his with quiet certainty. ‘Not even for money.’

Slowly he nodded. ‘Good. Then presumably you can’t be bought by a competitor to betray confidential information.’

A furrow appeared on her forehead. ‘Was all this some elaborate test of my honesty?’

Raffa shrugged. Easier to let her believe his interest was so straightforward than try to explain something he didn’t understand himself.

If her report was insufficient, he’d have to ignore his prejudice and hire a detective. At least now he wouldn’t be sucked in by nebulous ‘promising leads’ that required just a little more time to produce results.

Years ago, when he’d begun making decent money, he’d spent lavishly on fruitless investigations. Older than his years in most ways, his desperation to find the man responsible for his sister’s death had made him gullible in this one area.