‘Don’t laugh at me!’ Her words rapped out, too short, too sharp.
In the sudden silence she realised what she’d revealed. He knew he’d got to her.
Raffaele Petri might be a bully but he was clever. All the world knew he came from the backstreets of some large Italian city. His business success was a commercial miracle.
‘What if I’m laughing at myself? Finally being called on my defects.’ His voice held an edge but she couldn’t tell if it was amusement or banked fury. ‘My decrepit age. My lack of emotional staying power. What else, I wonder?’ He paused. ‘Have you been investigating me, Ms Nolan?’
Despite the rich cadence of his voice, Lily heard the threat in that low purr of sound.
‘I haven’t, Signor Petri. Your business, yes, before I agreed to work for it. But as for a personal profile...’ She shook her head, her hair swirling. ‘That wasn’t necessary.’
‘Because the paparazzi do such a thorough job of portraying someone’s life, don’t they?’
Lily frowned. Was that emotion? Had she hit a nerve?
‘The passport can be fast-tracked. I’ll get my people onto it. Accommodation will be arranged. Plus I’ll have the contract altered to include the increased salary and bonus.’ He paused, which was as well, because her head was spinning. His abrupt change of subject left her floundering. ‘Appealing enough for you?’
The silence that followed was thick with expectation. He was waiting for her to agree before he hung up and dealt with whatever issue was next on his list.
Except Lily wasn’t some problem to be fixed.
‘I appreciate the offer, the very handsome offer,’ she choked out, her fingers clamping the phone. ‘But it won’t work for me. I’m happy to do whatever I can from here—’
‘But that won’t work for me.’ His voice sent a trickle of foreboding down her backbone.
For ten seconds there was silence. For twenty. But Lily refused to back down. What he asked was impossible for her and she had too much pride to explain why.
‘You leave me no choice, Ms Nolan. We’ll find someone else to be principal researcher.’
Lily eased back against her pillow, shaky as the tension gripping her body finally began to abate.
‘And my company won’t hire you again.’
Lily couldn’t stifle a hiss of shock. Air locked somewhere between her throat and her lungs as her body froze. Stars scattered her vision, dimming to pinpricks till, with a sagging release, her lungs began pumping again.
Without his business, hers was dead in the water. Four months ago she’d have weathered the setback but not now. Not since the loan and the expansion.
If she couldn’t meet the repayments she’d lose everything—her work and her home. The life she’d so painstakingly built.
‘Did you say something, Ms Nolan?’
Lily gulped to clear her throat but couldn’t think of a thing to say.
‘It won’t take long for my dissatisfaction with your service to get out, either. You’d be surprised how fast news spreads. Continental boundaries don’t mean anything and I have contacts around the world. From Melbourne to Mumbai, London to Los Angeles.’
Again that lethal pause, allowing her time to process the bleak scenario he’d painted. Her name would be mud with the really big enterprises, the internationals she’d set her sights on to make her expanded business a success.
‘You’ll go out of your way to blacken my name?’ Her voice was a thin scratch of sound but at least it was steady. Unlike the rest of her. She shook as if with fever.
‘I’ll be sure to mention it whenever appropriate.’ In other words he’d take delight in savaging her reputation.
Hatred coiled, tightening in her belly. Hatred as she’d only ever felt once before, for the guy who’d changed her life in an instant—from carefree to a grim round of medical treatments. Her hand lifted to her face.
Swallowing hard, Lily turned the nervous gesture into a defiant flick of the wrist, sending her long hair flying back from her face. Deliberately she set her chin, staring at her face reflected in the window.
One thing Raffaele Petri didn’t know—she was a fighter. She’d survived far worse than he could dish out and emerged stronger as a result.
She lowered her hand, smoothing the quilt as she dragged in aching breaths. She opened her mouth to speak but he beat her to it.
‘Of course if you were to change your mind...’
Fury swamped her. He knew she had no choice.
Even so, part of her brain noted that the snake in the Garden of Eden must have sounded like this. No hissing, no sharpness. Just a lush, seductive roll of sound that invited her to go against everything she knew and trusted. To take the plunge, even though it must end in disaster.
‘You’re nothing if not predictable, Signor Petri.’ She pressed the phone to her ear but heard no response. ‘Textbook bullying, in fact.’
Still nothing. His silence infuriated her but she refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing her rant. She looked at her hand, fisted so tight in her lap it was hard to prise open. When she did she saw scarlet crescents where her nails had scored.
‘Very well, Signor Petri. I’ll work for you.’ Her lungs ached as she released the breath crammed in her chest. ‘But you can change the contract to three times the original salary. Ditto with the bonus. Have it in my inbox tomorrow and if it’s satisfactory I’ll sign.’ She paused, trying to control her sharp, shallow breaths.
To her astonishment he didn’t disagree.
‘I’ll see you in New York, Ms Nolan.’
Not if I see you first.
She might be stuck working for him but she had no illusions he’d be part of the project team. He’d be sunning himself in the Bahamas or skiing in Switzerland or whatever the wealthy did when they weren’t harassing ordinary people. Somehow she’d deal with the travel and all those people. She’d do the job, take his money and come back to build her future here as she’d planned.
She’d get through this.
‘Goodbye, Signor Petri.’
‘Not goodbye. Arrivederci, Ms Nolan.’
RAFFA GOT TO the office after a breakfast meeting.
Across the large room he saw an unfamiliar figure—long hair, loose shirt, loose trousers and flat shoes. The clothes were resolutely unfeminine but the body beneath all that unflattering drabness wasn’t. Femininity was there in the way she moved, despite her rigid back and high shoulders.
It had to be Lily Nolan. The area was off-limits to all but his hand-picked team.
She’d been tense on the phone that night too. Uptight and angry, yet that husky, just-awake voice had done things to him no woman had in years.
He frowned at the unwanted memory.
Raffa’s eyes narrowed on the rhythmic swish of hair down her narrow back as she walked away. It all but reached her waist. Not blonde or black or even dark but simply brown. A brown so ordinary and unremarkable it looked uncompromising, as if she spurned most women’s desire to improve on nature with eye-catching colour.
He turned into his private office and took a seat, gesturing for his assistant to do the same. Through the glass walls he saw Lily Nolan talking with someone by the door to the conference room. Her