One Night with her Italian Boss by Trish Morey
9
The morning’s dark clouds had rolled away and for now the water of Auckland’s Waitemata Harbour sparkled and danced under the afternoon sun. The powerful launch skipped along at a fast pace, and Mackenzi relished being outside with the feel of fresh air whipping around her face, the salt spray turning to jewels in the sunlight. No wonder they called it ‘the city of sails’, she thought as she looked around, the spectacular harbour dotted with all kinds of sailing craft.
When the air turned cooler Christine and Mackenzi took refuge in the saloon area, enjoying the rich, wooden tones of the teak flooring and the sumptuous upholstery. If this was boating, Mackenzi was hooked.
Dante stood alongside Quinn at the helm, listening intently to him over the thrum of the engines, and every now and then Mackenzi caught the odd word—horsepower, diesel and hydraulics—that told her they were talking about boats and boating design. Dante certainly wasn’t wasting any time catching up on his latest investment interest. Just to one side of them, looking like he longed to be part of the tete-a-tete but the body language showing he in no way fit in, stood Adrian, scowling with every word.
They slowed when they came to a sandy shore on Motuihe Island, one of the numerous small islands dotting the harbour, the boat now bobbing gently as staff went ahead to offload a picnic lunch on the grassy slopes beyond the beach. It was sheltered here from the wind, making the perfect sun-trap, the perfect picnic-spot.
‘It’s an impressive launch,’ Dante said as they prepared to disembark along the short jetty.
‘That’s why I wanted you to see it. This prototype is just an indication of what we can do, once the retooling goes ahead. Until that happens, we don’t have the means to manufacture enough to achieve the necessary economies of scale.’
‘And the amount needed for a complete retooling?’ Quinn rattled off a figure that made Mackenzi’s head spin and Adrian’s brow furrow, but she noticed Dante barely blinked. Clearly he’d had that figure or close to it in mind when he’d pored over the numbers last night.
‘I must say,’ Quinn added as they settled around the picnic table, ‘I wasn’t overly surprised to get your call this morning. I knew you weren’t the sort that gave up easily, but I certainly didn’t expect you to come out advocating the proposal you did. I thought you’d closed your mind last night to anything to do with incorporating the boat-building business into the redevelopment.’
Dante leaned back, one leg tucked nonchalantly under his chair, the other stretched out in front of him, and threw Mackenzi a look. Even though his eyes were obscured by sunglasses, and despite the tension that had descended on them since that earlier brunch, still her insides did that strange rollover she’d encountered coming out of the bathroom that morning. ‘I thought I wasn’t keen either, but something kept nagging at me.’
Adrian’s scowl grew deeper while Quinn laughed out loud, following Dante’s gaze, and giving a crusty wink. ‘Tell me, Mackenzi,’ he said. ‘What’s your background? Given your interest in the subject, I’m guessing it’s got something to do with the property industry?’
‘Mackenzi managed a hotel in Adelaide,’ Dante interceded.
She smiled, wondering why becoming Dante’s mistress automatically made him her spokesman. ‘That’s right.’ She smiled innocently at him. ‘Though right now I’m between jobs, isn’t that right, Dante?’ She turned to Christine before he had a chance to answer. ‘And it was actually a wonderful hotel in the Adelaide Hills called Ashton House. Maybe you’ve heard of it?’
‘Oh, I know the one,’ said Christine. ‘You remember, Stuart? We went to the Lennon-Groves’ wedding in the gardens there. Some years back. A beautiful wedding. Such a stunning location.’
Quinn’s brow creased before he nodded, his face relaxing into a wide smile. ‘Of course, pretty spot. Those views were something else.’
Mackenzi allowed herself a ‘take that’ smile, noticing Dante’s expression tighten measurably behind his sunglasses. ‘It is a very special place,’ she agreed, hoping Dante would eventually get the message. Far too special to suffer the fate Dante had planned. ‘I was there for three wonderful years. Though, before I did my hospitality- industry training, I worked for a couple of years with a small property business that redeveloped all kinds of dead-end properties into niche sites. I guess it sparked my interest in the industry.’
‘Aha,’ pronounced Quinn. ‘That explains it. Well, given you’re between jobs as you say, let me know if you’re looking for work in the industry, because I’m sure that I’ve got some contacts who could use your talents here in Auckland.’ ‘Thank you, I appreciate it.’
‘I don’t think she’ll have the time,’ Dante broke in, snapping his gaze away to focus on Stuart. ‘Mackenzi’s going to be busy helping me out on a few projects for the foreseeable future.’
She was? She blinked up at him, grateful that her own dark glasses hid her surprise, while Adrian made a sound like a snort and turned away, looking out to sea.
Quinn laughed. ‘I should have assumed you’d get in first. Now, how about we enjoy this lunch?’
The Quinns proved entertaining hosts, the atmosphere a world away from their tense dinner together the previous evening. With the combination of good food, sea and sun it proved to be a relaxing couple of hours, sitting out near the water. Mackenzi took in the ever-changing view, choosing to wander along the narrow sandy beach while the others enjoyed coffee and talked about boats. The tiny hairs on her arms told her the instant she had company, standing to attention like soldiers standing guard. She didn’t look at him, preferring the view over the water to the sandy beach and bushy shoreline opposite. It was safer that way.
‘You’re going to have to try harder than that if you want to save your precious Ashton House.’
She took a deep breath and tasted salt and sea, and a man
called Dante, could smell the rich, dark coffee he held in his hands. She’d been expecting some kind of reaction over her mention of Ashton House, and his voice sounded low and threatening enough—but where was the venom she’d been expecting? Was he mellowing? She doubted it. His restraint had more to do with business and a deal he didn’t want to risk losing again. He could hardly make a scene with Quinn hovering.
‘I didn’t realise I was trying anything,’ she said ingenuously. ‘You were the one who brought up the topic of me managing the hotel. I was merely expanding on it.’
He didn’t respond, and she could have lost herself again in the gentle slap of water along the shore, the cry of a wheeling gull and the occasional burst of laughter from the lunch party. Could have lost herself, if not for the man standing so close beside her.
‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like a coffee?’
‘I don’t think I could fit another thing in,’ she said without looking around. It was the truth. Whether it was the sea air or the more relaxed atmosphere after their strained brunch, she’d more than made up for her earlier lack of appetite.
‘You never told me you’d worked in the property development industry.’
‘I don’t recall you ever asking.’ Only then did she turn from the view and look at him, having to raise her chin because of his height and because he was standing so close. ‘And what’s this about me helping you out on a few projects?’
Dante gave a careless shrug of his shoulders, the open neck of his white shirt rippling with the motion and drawing her attention to that eye-level triangle of olive skin and its dusting of dark, coiling hair. ‘It wouldn’t be too much trouble to give me your opinion when I ask for it, would it?’
She smiled and allowed her eyes to wander slowly back up. ‘My, my. Now you’re asking my opinion. I have come up in the world.’
‘I wouldn’t think too much about it,’ he countered, picking up a stray tendril of her hair and winding it around his finger until she was drawn to him like a fish on a reel. A fish that had too easily given up the will to fight, it occurred to her too late. ‘It’s simply a matter of making the most of our arrangement.’
He frowned slightly and touched a fingertip to her nose, running over the slight sideways bump. She tried to pull away but her hair around his finger kept her right there, tingling under his touch. ‘What happened here?’
‘I broke it playing hockey,’ she said, embarrassed and putting a hand up self-consciously. ‘It never set quite straight.’
‘I like it,’ he said, surprising her. ‘It’s got character. A bit like you.’
They stood that way together on the beach, not touching but for the finger still coiled tight in her hair and keeping her head angled up towards him. His lips slightly turned up at the corners, his eyes smoky with desire. Mackenzi felt the answering effects deep inside her, where heat pooled low between her thighs in time with the gentle ebb and flow of the water along the beach and the thumping drumbeat of her heart.
He was flirting with her, she realised, seducing her with barely a touch right here on the shore in full view of anyone and everyone. Despite everything she knew about him, despite every reason she knew she shouldn’t play his game, she wasn’t about to stop him. Not when it made her feel like this.
It was just a game, she reminded herself, just a game. It was about strategy and tactics and keeping your head. All she had to do was keep her head.
Then he looked down at her lips and she lost it. He was going to kiss her. Her lips parted in answer, a silent consent, and on her next breath she could taste the very essence of him, feeling it coil all the way down.
‘Excuse me, Dante.’
Dante didn’t move a muscle, his eyes remaining locked on her mouth. ‘What is it, Adrian?’ His words came short and sharp.
‘Quinn’s suggesting that we get our teams together tonight over a working dinner to brief them on the new arrangements.’
‘Good idea,’ Dante agreed, still without turning his head.
‘Okay, I’ll let him know.’ Adrian turned to go.
This time Dante did move, releasing the tension in her hair and her body like a switch, letting the coils of her hair slide away just as the coils inside her diminished. ‘And, Adrian?’ His second-in-charge stopped like an eager puppy who’d been denied attention for too long. ‘Yes?’
‘Book yourself a seat on the first flight back to Melbourne. I want someone on the ground at the office first thing tomorrow.’
‘But what about the deal?’
‘I’ll handle the deal.’
‘But...’
‘Thank you, Adrian. That’s all.’
Adrian turned, but not before he’d shot Mackenzi a look that told her he held her personally responsible for his slide from grace.
She shivered, both with the after effects of the let-down and from Adrian’s frosty look. ‘I get the feeling Adrian’s less than impressed with your suggestion that I could help you with a project or two.’
He cast a glance in the direction of his deputy, who was sulkily keying something on his phone. ‘I’m none too impressed with Adrian’s advice lately. He can go and nurse his wounded pride back at the office. Meanwhile, we’re staying in Auckland for the next few days while the architects and lawyers nut out the details. We’re going to take a look at Quinn’s outfit tomorrow, then check out the competition. It’s going to be a busy few days, with more meetings and business dinners than you can imagine—you up to it?’
She smiled, feeling that strange, slow roll of her insides once more. She was not sure whether it was because he’d included her in that ‘we’re’, or because it felt like today they’d turned some kind of corner where, despite their different goals, at least they’d proved they could work together.
And, even better, at least she’d be out there doing something with him and not stuck in the hotel waiting for him, wondering when, if ever, he was going to come back.
If they could work together, if she could show she could perform in the boardroom and not just the bedroom, wouldn’t that give her more leverage when it came to changing his mind about Ashton House? So she’d bide her time, bite her tongue and wait for the perfect opportunity to raise the topic again.
‘I’m looking forward to it,’ she said.
Late the next day, Mackenzi felt like her head was going to explode. They’d done a tour of the site, checking out Quinn’s existing facilities, had gone with Quinn to visit what felt like at least a dozen other boatyards, and now Quinn was driving them back to the hotel. Her head was bursting with facts and figures and new found nautical knowledge.
But her education hadn’t finished there. She’d followed in Dante’s wake today, marvelling at the speed with which he picked up new concepts and terminology and ran with them, gaining a new respect for a man whose fortune, she assumed, had been built solely by riding roughshod over anyone and everything.
But this was a new Dante. Even now, as talk in the car turned to the specifications of the new boatyard, it was easy to see that a new rapport had been established between the two men as they enthusiastically exchanged ideas, both of them united in wanting to move the proposal beyond concept stage and into reality as quickly as possible.
No wonder he was so successful at business, she reflected, when he immersed himself so completely in the world he was entering. He couldn’t help but stay a step ahead of the competition.
She stole a glance at him while he spoke, feeling his enthusiasm, loving the energy that radiated out from him, the spark in the air around him. He turned, and caught her gaze and smiled at her through his words before turning his attention back to Quinn. It was only a moment, only a second that he’d turned her way, but Mackenzi felt the impact of his smile like a tripping of her thermostat, setting her blood to sizzle and her heart rate to overdrive.
Today she’d seen a different side to that ruthless businessman who had strong-armed his way into her life, and extracted a deal the devil himself would have been proud of.
A different side she wasn’t entirely sure she was comfortable with.
It had been easier when she’d hated him. It had been easier when she’d had no respect for him. And it had been so much easier when a mere look had felt like damnation and not temptation.
For that was what he’d become...
They said goodbye to Quinn at the hotel, and Dante took her arm, his fingers like a brand to her flesh. Their eyes met briefly and she caught a glimmer of something simmering beneath the surface, hot and urgent, and finding an answering call in the tremor that moved her body onto high alert.
Without either of them uttering a word, there was no doubt at all in her mind what they’d be doing five minutes from now. This man had an appetite for sex that astounded her, an appetite that was as contagious as it was addictive. Already she could feel her need blossom in the dragging heat between her thighs and in the quickening of her breathing as her body prepared for the inevitable.
He guided her purposefully through the lobby towards the private lift that would take them to their penthouse suite. A man on a mission. A man and his mistress.
‘It was a good day,’ Dante said, his voice as tight as a drum, breaking his silence as he followed her into the lift.
‘It was.’
The lift doors slid closed and he moved so quickly she didn’t see him coming. In a heartbeat she felt herself pressed to the back of the lift, his hands working on her hungrily, hiking up her skirt, freeing himself in a rampaging, desperate rush. ‘And it’s about to get,’ he added as he slid his long, hard length into her, ‘one hell of a lot better.’
There were definitely worst fates than being someone’s mistress, she decided as the lift doors opened and released them to their floor, dishevelled and windblown and bearing all the hallmarks of great sex.
‘I’ll run a bath,’ she said, knowing Dante would want time to check his email.
He pulled her to him and kissed her hard on the lips. ‘Thanks for the entree. I’ll be right there for the main course.’ She could barely stop smiling as she crossed the room on knees still shaky from their elevator encounter. There were definitely worse things than being Dante Carrazzo’s mistress, that was for sure.
She stopped dead when she reached their bedroom. There were clothes spread out all over the bed and a rack of clothes parked nearby—sparkling evening gowns, linen suits and gorgeous day-dresses. Shoe boxes cluttered up the floor, and wide, flat boxes lined with tissue paper spilled over with underwear and accessories.
‘Dante?’ she called. ‘What’s all this?’
He came when she called and looked over her shoulder, his frown turning into a smile. ‘Good, they’ve come.’
‘You ordered them? What for?’
‘You need more clothes,’ Dante declared simply. ‘It was no trouble to have the boutique send up a selection.’
The boutique downstairs; Mackenzi thought some of the clothes had looked familiar. Likewise she had no trouble remembering their price tags.
‘I really think I can manage with what I’ve got.’
‘Out of a suitcase the size of a shoe box? I don’t think so. I saw you this morning trying to recycle your wardrobe into something fresh and interesting. This solves all your problems. They’ve sent up your size. Just choose what you want and send the rest back.’
He kissed her on the cheek and made a move to go, as if already bored with the topic and satisfied she would happily comply, good little mistress that she was.
‘But I don’t want any of them,’ she announced. ‘For a start, their prices downstairs are ridiculous.’
He turned back. ‘No-one said I was expecting you to pay for it. Anything you keep will be charged to the room.’
She shook her head. ‘Oh no. You are not buying me clothes. I thought I’d made that clear.’
He took a step closer and raised one eyebrow high. ‘You made it more than clear that you objected to being given jewellery. This isn’t jewellery.’
She felt the euphoria of their love-making in the lift slide away, leaving her shaky and weak and all too well reminded that their encounter had had nothing to do with who she was and had been all about what she was.
And she’d thought there could be worse things than being Dante’s mistress.
Not if being his mistress simultaneously made her his whore.
‘I don’t want the jewellery or the clothes, or anything. I don’t want the trappings. I’m not that kind of mistress.’
‘No? And I always thought mistress was a “one size fits all” concept. So what kind of mistress are you?’
She swallowed, her throat tight. ‘You know I wouldn’t be here unless you’d blackmailed me into it.’
His eyes turned cold and hard, his mouth curled into a malicious smile. ‘Ah, the blackmailed mistress. As opposed to the mercenary mistress, I suppose? Is that how you see yourself?’ He studied her face mercilessly, as if seeking any sign of weakness he could exploit. ‘Or is it the altruistic mistress you fancy yourself as? The selfless virgin, sacrificing herself in order to save a crusty old pile of bricks?’ He nodded, smiling wider as if pleased with his own analysis. ‘Yes, I do believe it’s the latter. Not that I recall any virgins.’ ‘Does it matter?’ she argued, hating that he was laughing at her, and afraid his interpretation was too close to the mark. More afraid that anything she enjoyed so much could hardly be considered a sacrifice. ‘I didn’t agree to this deal for the trappings. I agreed to sleep with you, sure, and that’s one thing I already have to work out how to come to terms with. But don’t make it worse. Don’t pay me for the privilege. Don’t turn me into the whore you thought you’d found in your bed.’
Her voice broke on the final word and she spun around, her teeth clamping down hard on her bottom lip, her arms clenched tight around herself while tears stung at her eyes, pressing to be released.
Strong hands clasped her shoulders and she felt herself drawn back against the warmth of his body. ‘I don’t think that.’ And when she tried to jerk away in protest he pulled her back against him. ‘Not any more. Not now.’
‘Then don’t buy me things. It’s enough that I’m here, sharing a suite that must be costing a fortune.’
He sighed, and pressed his lips to her ear. ‘But you’re practically part of the team now, working for me on this deal, and you need clothes. You know I’m right.’
‘I won’t wear clothes paid for by you and selected for me by some stick-insect shop assistant.’
He spun her around, and this time his smile looked genuine. ‘Fine. Then go and choose them yourself. But, at the risk of offending you, I should mention that I intend paying for them—’
He hushed her rapid-fire protest with one touch of his lips on hers, a touch that melted her bones and brought her even closer. ‘Let me finish,’ he said, when at last he pulled his mouth away. ‘I intend paying for them, out of the fee for your time and expertise while you assist me on this deal and any other for which I employ your services. A fee we will jointly negotiate, okay?’
She looked up into his eyes and almost wished she hadn’t. After a kiss like that, a person could lose themselves in those eyes, could forget what they were arguing for. ‘Okay,’ she said at last. ‘We’ll talk about it.’
He hugged her tight and kissed her through his smile. ‘Now, then, how about that spa? We’ve got some negotiating to do.’
