Italian Bachelors: Ruthless Propositions: Taming Her Italian Boss / The Uncompromising Italian / Secrets of the Playboy's Bride

CHAPTER NINE

MAX WAS SO FURIOUS he couldn’t speak, could hardly even breathe. How dare she act as if he were in the wrong? And how dare she bail on him after only one week? What was he going to do now? Knowing his mother, she’d make an impulsive decision and say she couldn’t possibly keep Sofia here on her own, and then he’d be stuck here, right when it was more urgent than ever that he leave this tangled family mess behind and concentrate even harder on his work.

He wanted to march after Ruby, to give her a piece of his mind, but he suspected she was in no mood to listen. She was stubborn as hell, that woman, and bound to dig her heels in if he went in with all guns blazing.

He’d give her half an hour. Then he’d go and find her, make her see sense.

He looked down at the stack of papers in his hands. His scribbled-on plans were on top. Just the sight of them made his temperature rise a couple of notches. He turned and headed for the library. At least he’d be able to distract himself for a short while trying to see if anything was salvageable. Once he was there, he dropped the stack of papers on the desk and sank into the chair.

It had to have been her fault. She must have come and got more paper from his makeshift office at some point, despite what she’d said, because how else could his pristine plans have ended up on Sofia’s drawing-paper pile? They hadn’t been outside the library all week.

A cold feeling washed through him from head to toe.

Except...

Last night, when he’d taken some papers into the salon as a cure for insomnia, and the plans had been amongst them. It had worked, too. After an hour and a half of poring over them, going over every detail, he’d woken himself up, his head lolling against his chest, and then he’d stumbled back to bed.

Oh, hell.

And he had no idea if he’d stumbled back into the library first and replaced the plans.

He stared at the clean, narrow printed-out lines of his plans, with Ruby’s thicker doodlings over the top. It was his fault, wasn’t it? Not hers. While he hadn’t exactly put them on Sofia’s paper stack by leaving them lying around in the salon he’d opened up the way for them to get muddled into it during the course of the day.

Max exhaled heavily and let his forehead drop so it rested on the pile of papers.

Damn.

And he’d lost his temper. Something he never did. He’d always hated losing control like that. Not just because when his really long fuse went, it tended to verge on apocalyptic, but because of how he was feeling right now. Raw. Open. Weak.

If it had been Sofia that had done the drawing he knew he wouldn’t have reacted the same way. Oh, he’d have been cross, but he wouldn’t have exploded like that, and not just because she was only two and he would have scared the living daylights out of her.

There was something about Ruby that just got under his skin.

He sat up, ran his hand through his hair and stared at the dark green wallpaper.

He should let her leave, shouldn’t he?

She wanted to. It would certainly be better for him.

But he needed her.

He shook his head. No. He didn’t need anyone. Especially not a woman who ran at the first sniff of trouble, which was exactly what Ruby had done, proving his point very nicely for him.

He needed a nanny. That was all.

The choice was up to her. If she still wanted to go he wouldn’t stop her, but there was one thing he needed to do first—apologise.

In a bit, though. Ruby was probably still spitting fire, and if he tried to knock on her door now, he’d probably get a few more of those wonderfully eloquent hand gestures.

A smile crept across his face, even though he knew it wasn’t really funny at all.

She was a pill, that one.

He sighed and turned his attention back to the plans in front of him, unfolding the paper and having a good look. It was interesting what she’d drawn. She’d taken his plain, square arch and added some traditional Venetian style to it. She really had been paying attention to the shapes and patterns of the buildings, hadn’t she? Here was an ogee arch, and here a lobed one. She’d reproduced them perfectly, even when she’d only been doodling.

That was when something smacked him straight between the eyebrows.

The shapes.

Ruby had been talking about the geometric shapes, the other day, the way simple ones interlocked to make more complicated ones. All he’d been able to see when he came to Venice was the fuss, the frilliness. He’d forgotten that even the most of ornate fasciae were constructed of much simpler, cleaner elements.

If he took Ruby’s idea and pared it back, using simpler shapes, overlapping and juxtaposing them to create something, not exactly elaborate, because that wasn’t his style, but something more intricate that still kept that essence of simple elegance.

He grabbed one of Sofia’s scrap-paper sheets and a pen and began to scribble. Semicircular arches here and here, intersecting to create a more pointed version, with slender pillar for support. His hand flew over the paper, sketching shapes and lines, at first for the arches in the atrium, but then taking the same idea and applying it to other aspects of the space, giving it all a cohesive feel.

He could see it so clearly. Just a hint of gothic style, built in glass and steel. Modern materials that echoed back to classic design. It was just what he needed to tie the new wing and the existing institute building together and make them feel like one space.

He kept going, filling sheet after sheet, until he suddenly realised he’d been at this for ages.

Ruby!

He still hadn’t gone and apologised.

He shoved away from the desk, sending a stack of Sofia’s colourful drawings flying, and then sprinted down the corridor in the direction of her and Ruby’s rooms. He didn’t bother knocking when he got there, just flung the door open and raced inside, expecting to find her shoving clothes into her rucksack, a scowl on her face.

Wrong again, Max.

She can pack in under ten minutes, remember? Sometimes five.

Where Max had expected to find Ruby stewing and muttering insults under her breath, there was nothing but empty space.

Ruby Lange was gone.

* * *

Ruby shivered as she waited on the little creaky dock outside Ca’ Damiani. The clouds had sunk closer to the water and coloured everything a murky grey. A drop of rain splashed on her forehead. Great.

Her rucksack was at her feet, leaning against her lower legs, and she craned to see if the light bobbing towards her, accompanied by the sound of a motor, was the taxi she’d ordered. She needed to get out of here and she needed to do it right now.

This was so not how she’d imagined seeing Venice by water this evening.

More raindrops, one after the other. She could hear them plopping into the canal near her feet.

The approaching craft turned out to be a private boat that puttered past and stopped outside one of the buildings opposite. Ruby felt her whole body sag.

Stupid, stupid girl. You take on a job you know nothing about—just because some random guy says he needs you—and you think he’s going to see past all of your inexperience and believe you’re something special? Get real. The only thing Max Martin believed about her was that she was a flaky screw-up, just like everyone else on this planet.

She hugged her arms tighter around her, wishing she hadn’t packed her jacket in the very bottom of the rucksack.

Not everyone believes you’re a screw-up.

Okay, maybe she was being a little dramatic. A number of her bosses over the years had begged her to stay when she’d realised the job wasn’t for her and had given in her notice. They’d said she was competent and organised and they’d love to promote her, but she hadn’t been able to ignore that itchy feeling once it started. The only way to stop the intense restlessness, the only way to scratch it enough so it went away, was to move on. But Max was wrong. She didn’t run away. She ran to the next thing. There was a whole world of difference.

The rain began to fall harder now. She pushed her fringe out of her eyes. It was already damp. Where was that taxi?

There was a creaking behind her as the boat door that led to the dock opened. Ruby’s blood solidified in her veins. She refused to turn round.

She expected another angry tirade, braced herself against it, but when his voice came it was soft and low. ‘Ruby?’

‘That’s my name,’ she said, and then grimaced, glad he couldn’t see her face. What was this? High school?

‘Don’t go.’

She spun round to face him, arms still clutched around her middle, as if she was afraid she’d fall apart if she didn’t hold herself together. ‘What?’

The anger was gone. She could see none of its vestiges on his features. Part of her breathed a sigh of relief, but another, deeper part, sighed with disappointment. The anger had been horrible, but it had been a little wonderful, too.

He walked forwards. Ruby was tempted to back away, but that would mean taking a dip in the canal, so she had to stay where she was. Cold drops peppered her skin and she shivered. Off in the distance there was a muffled rumble of thunder.

‘I want to apologise,’ he said, looking so earnest her heart grew warm and achy inside her chest. ‘I should never have let off at you like that. It was totally uncalled for.’

‘Thank you,’ she said in a wobbly voice. ‘And I should probably apologise for the verbal—and non-verbal—assault. That wasn’t very professional.’

A wry smile lifted one corner of his mouth. ‘I deserved it.’

Her stony blood started to warm and melt. It danced and shimmered and sang. Stop it, she told it. You’re making it very hard to leave.

And so was he, looking at her like that.

The itchy feeling returned, stronger this time. Unable to stand still, she walked in a small circle. The falling rain multiplied the lights of the city, but a cold breeze wrapped around her, stealing her breath.

‘It was my fault the plans got mixed up with Sofia’s drawing paper,’ he said, not breaking eye contact. ‘I left them in the salon the night before. I’m sorry I accused you of that.’

She nodded, not trusting herself to say anything.

He looked down at his feet briefly before meeting her eyes again. ‘Forgive me.’

Revenge, passion and utter, utter devotion. The words spun through Ruby’s head.

‘Okay,’ she croaked.

He nodded, his expression still slightly grim. ‘Then stay...please?’

Ruby blinked. Up until now, she hadn’t been sure that word was part of Max Martin’s vocabulary.

She looked away, even closed her eyes for good measure. She’d wanted to go so badly. So badly... It was a surprise to discover the tug to stay was just as strong. Not to stay and be Sofia’s nanny, although she was sure she would enjoy another week of that, but to stay here. In Venice. With Max.

She sucked a breath in and held it. Thank goodness he had no idea about the silly things she’d been feeling. Thank goodness he probably thought she was acting out of hurt pride. And fear, yes. He’d been right about that. She did run when things got too hard. Always had. How could you save yourself the crushing pain of disappointment otherwise?

She opened her eyes and looked out across the water. The moon was rising farther away, where the clouds had not yet blotted it out. It cast a silvery glow on the far-off bell towers and roofs, spilling glitter on the still waters of this back canal, where it undulated softly. It looked like a fairy tale.

And if this were a fairy tale, she’d stay. Max would fall madly in love with her and make her his princess. In their happy-ever-after she’d soothe his pain, teach him to let it go, and they’d be gloriously happy together.

Only real life didn’t work that way. It hadn’t for her and her father, and it hadn’t for Fina. Only a fool wouldn’t escape when they had the chance rather than sentence themselves to that kind of misery.

If she stayed, she might fall for him properly, not just teeter on the brink of an inappropriate crush.

She pulled her rucksack up from the floor of the dock and hugged it to her before turning to face him. ‘I don’t know, Max. I don’t think it’s a good idea I stay...for anybody.’

The water taxi chose that moment to turn up. The driver, oblivious to the tense scene occurring on the little wooden dock, looped a rope round a post and called out in Italian.

Ruby wiped the rain off her face and waved to show she’d heard him, then she slipped the straps of her rucksack over her shoulders. She pressed her lips together and tried not to let her eyes shimmer. ‘Goodbye. Tell Fina and Sofia I’m sorry.’ And then she turned and steadied herself before stepping into the boat.

As she lifted her foot he called out again. ‘Don’t go.’

She turned to look over her shoulder. ‘Why, Max? Why shouldn’t I go?’

For a moment he didn’t say anything, but then he looked her straight in the eye. ‘Because I need you.’

CHAPTER TEN

IF RUBY HAD THOUGHT she’d felt a little breathless before, now she really struggled to pull oxygen into her body. Max needed her?

He doesn’t mean it that way. Don’t be stupid.

‘No, you just need a proper nanny. It isn’t me specifically that you need.’

No words left Max’s mouth, but she discovered his eyes contradicted her quite beautifully. Her heart literally stopped beating inside her chest, just for a second. When it started up again, her pulse thundered in her ears.

She let her rucksack slip off her shoulders and it landed behind her on the dock with a thud. The rain began to fall in earnest, soaking the thin wool of her cardigan, but she didn’t seem to feel the damp and cold seeping into her skin.

Him, too? It hadn’t just been a physical, knee-jerk kind of thing?

That made her feel as if the world had just done a somersault around her and she needed to find solid ground again. Pity she was stranded in a city where that was in short supply.

That didn’t mean she was about to commit emotional suicide by staying, though. She cleared her throat. ‘I meant what I said earlier, Max. I don’t think I’m cut out to be a nanny in the long term.’

He nodded. ‘I agree. But I’m not asking you to be a nanny for the rest of your life. I’m just asking you to be one for the next week or so. After that it’s up to you.’

She nodded. That all sounded very sensible.

‘If you don’t think I’m cut out to be a nanny, why on earth do you want me to stay and look after Sofia?’

Max gave her a weary look. ‘I didn’t say I didn’t think you could do the job.’ He smiled gently. ‘I said it because I didn’t think you should commit yourself to something when your talent clearly lies elsewhere.’

Ruby’s eyes widened. ‘You think I have talent?’

He frowned. ‘Don’t you? Your drawings are fabulous, and that doodle you did on my plans set ideas firing off in my head so fast I could hardly keep up with them.’ The smile grew into a grin. ‘I have my “wow factor” for the Institute now, Ruby, and it’s all because of you.’

She closed her eyes and opened them again, not quite able to believe what she was hearing. ‘Do you... Do you think I should be an architect?’

His eyes warmed, making her forget the salty lagoon breeze that kept lifting the shorter bits of her hair now and then. ‘I think you could do that if you wanted to, but there’s something about your sketches that’s so full of life and personality. I think you’ve got something there. They’re quirky and original and full of...’

You. His eyes must have said that bit, because his mouth had stopped moving.

‘They’re captivating.’

Ruby felt the echo of his words rumble deep down inside her. Or maybe it was the crack of thunder that shook the sky over their heads.

Oh, heck. She really was in trouble, wasn’t she? How could she leave now?

And maybe Max was right. Maybe it was time to stop running. She might not have to see being a nanny through to the bitter end, but she could see this job through. How could she leave them all in the lurch like this? Sofia wouldn’t understand where she’d gone and feel abandoned all over again, Fina would be saddled with looking after a toddler full time, and Max wouldn’t have time to work on his plans, and she really wanted him to do that.

She still didn’t believe there was much in the future for them, even if some bizarre chemistry was popping between them, but she’d like to visit the National Institute of Fine Art on a rainy afternoon in a few years’ time and sit under Max’s atrium and feel happy—and maybe a little sad—to know that she’d had something to do with it, that in some lasting way she had a tiny connection to him.

She looked down at the rucksack threatening to pitch off the dock and into the canal. The taxi driver, whom she’d forgotten all about, coughed and mumbled something grumpily about being made to hang about in this kind of weather. She shot him a look of desperation.

He shrugged in that fatalistic Italian way, his expression saying, Are you coming or not?

Ruby looked back at Max. He was waiting. Not shouting. Not bulldozering. It was totally her choice and she knew he would hold no grudges if she got on this boat and told the driver to take her to the Piazzale Roma to catch a train.

She swallowed and twisted to face the driver and rummaged in her pocket and gave him a tip for his trouble. ‘Mi dispiace, signore.’

* * *

Ruby woke up to sunshine pouring into her bedroom the next morning. She stumbled over to the window, which overlooked a narrow little canal that ran down the side of the palazzo. It almost felt as if the night before had never happened. There was no hint of the storm. The sky was the clear pale blue of a baby’s blanket, hardly a cloud to mar it, and where the sun hit the canal it was a fierce and glittering emerald.

Things were just as surreal at breakfast, with Fina bustling around and fussing over Sofia, never once mentioning that Ruby had packed her bags and tried to leave last night.

Max had been in the library since before she’d got up, and that had been pretty early. She half expected him to bury himself away all day, working on his plans until it was time to pack up and leave for the airport. She didn’t know what would be worse: not seeing him most of the day or spending a bittersweet last few hours with him before he returned to London. She’d forgotten all about that last night when she’d agreed to stay. So when the salon door opened at ten o’clock and Max walked in, Ruby’s heart leapt and cowered at the same time.

‘What do you want to do this morning?’ he asked his niece, glancing briefly at Ruby and giving a nod of greeting.

‘Fishing!’ Sofia yelled and ran off in the direction of the cupboard where the crabbing gear was kept.

Both Ruby and Max charged after her, knowing just how tightly that cupboard was packed and just how much mischief an unattended two-year-old could get up to inside it. They managed to beat Sofia to the lines and hooks, but Max gave her a bucket and a small net to carry to keep her happy. And then they bustled around, getting into the boat, coaxing Sofia into a life jacket, making sure she didn’t let go of her bucket and leave it floating down a canal somewhere.

She and Max worked as a team, exchanging words when needed, passing equipment to each other, but it wasn’t until they were standing at Max’s favourite crabbing spot, the little boat moored up and bobbing about a short distance away, that they slowed down enough for Ruby to get a sense of his mood.

She watched him gently helping Sofia wind an empty line back up without getting it tangled. He’d been polite this morning, almost friendly.

Had she imagined it? Had it all been some weird dream, a spell cast by this contrary city?

She let out a long sigh. Maybe it was better if that was the case. It was sheer craziness. Even if she’d seen what she’d thought she’d seen in his eyes last night, what did she think was going to happen? A wild fling in his mother’s house, with a toddler running around?

Once again, get real, Ruby.

She knelt down and took interest in what Sofia was doing. She’d plopped the crab line into the water for the fourth or fifth time, but so far no luck. The little girl heaved out a sigh. ‘Fish go ʼway,’ she said slightly despondently.

Ruby couldn’t help but smile. Despite her self-contained manner, Sofia had a little bit of her grandmother’s flair for drama in her. She forgot herself, looked up at Max to share the joke. He was crouching the other side of Sofia, who was sitting on the edge of the fondamenta where the railings parted, her little legs swinging above the water, and their eyes met across the top of her head.

Ruby almost fell in the canal.

It was all there, everything he hadn’t said last night and everything he had.

Oh, heck. Just when she’d almost managed to talk some sense into herself.

And it still all did make sense. He was her boss. He was going back to London in a matter of hours. He was her total polar opposite. In what world was that anything but a recipe for disaster?

Everywhere but Venice, she discovered as a slow smile spread across her lips. She felt she must be glowing. Actually radiating something. It would probably scare the fish away.

She wanted to lean across, press her lips to his, wind her arms around his neck and just taste him. Feel him. Dive into him.

‘Fish!’ Sofia yelled, and it was almost her who did the diving. She got so excited she almost toppled off the edge into the canal. It was only Max’s quick reflexes that saved her.

After that they made sure they had their eyes on Sofia instead of each other at all times. It didn’t matter, though. It was pulsing in the air around them, like a wonderful secret, a song carried on a radio wave that only they could tune into.

She felt it as they ended their crabbing expedition, a weary Sofia rubbing her eyes and complaining about being hungry. She felt it as they stood mere inches apart at the front of the boat, Max steering, her holding Sofia so she could see over the top of the little motorboat’s windscreen. Felt it as they passed buckets and nets and bags to each other from boat to dry land.

As they pulled the last of the luggage from the boat and headed into the large downstairs hall of the palazzo Ruby turned to Max, made proper eye contact in what seemed the first time in decades. ‘What time’s your flight?’ she asked, plainly and simply.

It was all very well dreaming on the canals, but their feet were back on solid ground now. It was time to anchor herself back in reality, remind herself of what really was happening here.

‘Five o’clock,’ he said.

She nodded towards the first floor. ‘You’d better get going if you’re going to get any work done before you have to stop and pack.’ She held out her hand to take the nets from him.