The Italian's Virgin Acquisition

CHAPTER TWO

HER BOSS WAS the first to step back and a floodgate of embarrassment rushed into Poppy’s face. For a moment she had forgotten they were boss and employee. Forgotten that she was now late to meet Simon, who would be starting to fret when she didn’t return when she said she would—a leftover issue from their childhood.

‘No, you’re not early, Nonno—in fact, you’re late,’ Sebastiano murmured, his eyes still on her. ‘Miss Connolly was just helping me fix my tie.’

Feeling as if she’d just had her hand caught in the cookie jar, Poppy turned to face a much older version of her handsome boss and tried to smile.

His dark-green eyes were warm and encompassing as they swept over her.

‘Nonno, this is Poppy Connolly. Poppy, this is my nonno, otherwise known as Signor Castiglione, or Giuseppe.’

‘Buongiorno, come stai? Pleased to meet you.’ His grandfather smiled broadly.

Still reeling from the shock of imagining how it would feel to kiss her boss—the owner of the company she at least needed a great reference from—Poppy murmured a greeting and wondered how rude it would be just to cut and run out the door.

About to suggest she do exactly that, her words were cut off when Sebastiano’s mobile phone rang.

Glancing at the screen, he scowled. ‘Nonno, scusa un momento.’

Poppy wondered if it was his teary ex-girlfriend again, but then realised that the poor woman probably didn’t have his private mobile number or she would have rung it earlier instead of his office phone. It probably demonstrated her level of importance in the scheme of his life. Which was low. She wondered what a temporary girlfriend warranted at the end of an affair with the virile Sebastiano Castiglione? Diamonds or sapphires?

Shaking herself out of such senseless ruminating about a man who no doubt intended to put her on the black list with HR, Poppy smiled at his grandfather and once more tried to salvage something of the situation. ‘Would you like a drink? Some coffee?’ She tried not to cringe as she offered that. ‘Or sparkling water?’ That would be much better. No stains from sparkling water.

‘No, no.’ Signor Castiglione smiled. ‘You relax.’ He took a seat in one of the bucket chairs opposite the large oak desk. ‘So, how long you know my grandson?’

‘Oh, not long. About five weeks.’ Or really, under an hour, if you counted face-to-face time.

‘Ah, va bene. He is very demanding, no? He needs a firm hand.’

The image of someone handling Sebastiano Castiglione with a firm hand made Poppy want to laugh. But she fully agreed. ‘Oh, absolutely.’

‘But you handle him, si?’

Ah, definitely not si! She might have tied his tie before, but just being that close to him had completely tied her insides up in knots. ‘I wouldn’t say that exactly,’ she hedged. ‘Your grandson is his own boss.’

‘Don’t let him get his own way all the time. It is not good for him.’

He was telling her!

Poppy grinned at the lovely old man. ‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ she murmured, thinking that there was little chance she’d even see her boss again after next week. If she even made it to next week. Especially after the way she’d just been caught staring at his mouth.

Mortified all over again, she stole a quick glance in Sebastiano’s direction. Despite his less than stellar reputation with women, he was the most superb specimen of a man she had ever come across. Tall, broad-shouldered and with that air of power that was like an invisible warning to those who might dare to take him on.

Which would not be her. She was more a ‘steer well clear of overpowering men’ sort of girl. In fact, she was a steer well clear of any kind of men sort of girl. She had definite plans for the future, and they included climbing the corporate ladder, not falling for some good-looking, over-confident business mogul!

Unfortunately, before she could drag her gaze away from him, his eyes connected with hers and something hot and shivery jolted inside her. Once again sensing the effect he’d had on her, his eyes turned darker, his gaze telling her that he could read her most secret thoughts. The ones that said that he was so hot, she thought she might combust on the spot.

‘Sei la persone giusta,’ the old man said, nodding and smiling at her.

‘What? Oh...yes.’ Poppy turned to face him, relieved to have the unwanted spell of his grandson broken. ‘Okay, well...’ She moistened her lips and turned just as Sebastiano stepped forward, bringing them almost nose to chest. ‘Sorry.’ She stepped back quickly. ‘I’ll...uh...let you have your meeting. It was nice to meet you, Signor Castiglione.’

‘What? No coffee?’ Sebastiano mocked.

Poppy’s eyes widened. Was he making a joke?

‘Yes. It was a joke. Seems I’m a bit rusty. Thank you for tying my tie,’ he said softly. Intimately.

‘You’re welcome.’

Cut and run! her common sense shouted at her. ‘Have—er—have a good meeting,’ she said, finally kicking her brain into gear and hurrying through the office door. She didn’t take another breath until the lift doors had closed around her and she could put that surreal experience behind her. Then she slumped against the wall and wondered if any of that had really happened.

* * *

As soon as she closed his office door, Sebastiano turned back to his grandfather. ‘How was your flight?’

‘Good. This woman.’ He nodded slowly. ‘I approve.’

An image of his intern’s nimble fingers skating over his chest as she fixed his tie jumped into Sebastiano’s consciousness.

He approved as well, or at least his body did.

From the first moment he’d looked round and seen her standing in his doorway he’d felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. It was why he had sounded so rude about her clothing. Of course she could wear casual clothing to the office on a weekend if she wanted. He wasn’t a tyrant. He’d just been thrown by those velvet-blue eyes staring squarely back at him with no artifice in them at all.

The rest of her wasn’t bad either. Understatement, he acknowledged wryly. Her figure was glorious: slim hips, rounded breasts pushing against her thin sweater and a thick pile of ash-brown hair pulled into a high ponytail, revealing a slender neck below sweet rosebud lips. She wasn’t his usual type by a long shot but there was something about her that was at once innocent and impish. And hot. The way she had looked at him...an intelligent sparkle lighting those blue eyes as if she could see right through him.

When she had turned pink and asked him why he had been holding her wrist, he’d had an inexplicable desire to know what it would be like to wake up beside her, her face that colour from his love-making.

The memory pulled him up short. She was an intern in his office so she was automatically off limits—no matter how tempting—and, even if she wasn’t, he kept his relationships light and uncomplicated. Something about the way she hadn’t turned coy or giggly to attract his attention told him that she was neither light nor uncomplicated. Which was why he intended to forget that he had even met her.

‘I’m glad you approve,’ he said to his grandfather. ‘But it’s your approval for me to take over as CEO of Castiglione Europa that I want. You can’t keep travelling to Rome every other day to bark at everyone, and you know it. You also know that Nonna wants you to retire,’ he added, playing his trump card. ‘It’s time.’

‘Time to do what?’ his grandfather grouched. ‘Play boules? Pick grapes? Spend time with my grandchildren? Now there—’ he pointed a knotted finger at Sebastiano ‘—there would be a reason to retire.’

And here were go, Sebastiano thought. Operation Marriage. It was a clever name for it but he’d still give Paula grief about not informing him of the office betting pool when she came in tomorrow morning. ‘Yes, yes, I know what you want,’ he said. ‘And I’m working on it.’

‘So what is the hold-up?’ his grandfather asked. ‘You are having trouble making her say yes, is that it?’ His grandfather grinned, seeming to like that idea. But having a woman say yes wasn’t a problem Sebastiano had ever encountered. Quite the opposite, in fact, but regardless of that he understood that he was too much of a loner to make any relationship work in the long term. A fact many of his women would be more than happy to attest to.

Realising that his grandfather was waxing lyrical about how nice Poppy seemed, Sebastiano shrugged off his uncharacteristic lapse in concentration. ‘Forget all that,’ he dismissed, not wanting to let his mind wander back to his sassy little intern. ‘Tell me what I want to hear. You need to retire, and now, with this new deal I just finalised, the timing couldn’t be better to merge SJC with the family business. You know it as well as I do.’

His grandfather steepled his hands beneath his chin, taking his time answering, as he was wont to do. When he was a child Sebastiano had grown fidgety under that steady regard—now he just used it himself when it suited him.

‘I’ll tell you right now, I’m impressed with what I just saw,’ his grandfather said slowly. ‘You should have mentioned Poppy sooner.’

Poppy? Were they still talking about his intern? ‘Why would I mention her sooner?’ he rasped, his brain prodding him that he was missing something important.

‘Ah, I see, you want me to hand over the family company on your terms and not mine. That pride of yours will not do you any good in the long run, I’ve always told you that.’

‘Nonno—’

‘You always were a good boy, and now you have grown into a fine man. But seriously, Sebastiano, sometimes you cannot see what is in front of your face. Fortunately for you I am here to point out the obvious.’

Sebastiano frowned. ‘Wait, do you...?’

His grandfather reached across the desk and laid a hand over his. His nonno’s skin was old and leathery, almost papery in its frailty, his fingers vibrating slightly as they gripped onto him. ‘We have been waiting for you to ditch all those party girls and choose a nice girl to settle down with. And this girl is good.’

Sebastiano went perfectly still. His grandfather thought he and Poppy were an item—it was written all over his craggy features—which was ironic, when in fact they had only just met. But he supposed he could see how his grandfather had got that impression. For one, she had turned up in the office looking as much like an intern as he looked like a monk. And, two, he had very nearly lost his head and kissed her when she’d finished tying his tie.

‘She is the one for you, and when your grandmother sees you together she will be so proud that we did right by you after all.’

Hold on—what? ‘The one?’

‘Si. And she said she knows how to handle you.’ His grandfather chuckled. ‘You need a strong woman like that.’

Sebastiano knew his grandmother ruled their casa but, hell, had Poppy—Miss Connolly—truly said she had him under the thumb?

His frown deepened; no wonder his grandfather had jumped to all the wrong conclusions. But why would she say that? And more importantly what was he going to do about it?

He recalled the slumberous way her eyes had moved over him when she’d been tying his tie. It had been from desire; he would have put money on it because his own body had sent the same message to his brain.

I want her, it had said, right now.

Sebastiano didn’t want to think about his grandfather’s reaction when he told him that, far from being his latest girlfriend, Poppy Connolly was nothing more than a temporary employee. But, instead of wasting his breath to try and convince the old man he was wrong, Sebastiano tried again to direct him away from his love life. ‘Let’s get down to business.’

‘No. Let’s save it for your trip to Italy.’

Sebastiano went as still as a stone. As a general rule he limited his trips to his home country as much as possible. Especially to the family casa where his memories were so strong. ‘What trip to Italy?’

‘For your grandmother and my sixtieth wedding anniversary. We are having a party. Bring your lovely Miss Connolly.’

Sebastiano couldn’t move as his grandfather stood up. A look of sorrow briefly clouded his nonno’s eyes, his voice quiet when he broke the lengthening silence between them.

‘We need to put the past to bed, nipote mio, and we want you to come. No more excuses. No more putting work first. It is time to move forward.’ He cleared the emotion from his throat. ‘After I tell Evelina about Miss Connolly she will want to meet her. In fact, I will text her now.’

Sebastiano blinked. ‘Since when do you and Nonna text?’

‘Since I bought her a smart phone for her birthday.’

His grandfather pulled his own phone out of his pocket and pressed the keys with the agility of someone half his age.

Sebastiano watched him, brooding. He would do a lot of things for his grandparents—he would even cast aside his deeply buried memories of the past to attend their anniversary—but pretend he had a relationship with a woman he barely knew and who might have just set herself up to become the next Mrs Castiglione?

Not a chance in hell.

CHAPTER THREE

‘TWO HUNDRED AND fifty thousand pounds?’ Poppy stared at Sebastiano, who sat behind his desk like a leanly muscled King Tut with a pot of gold in front of him.

When he had requested to see her in his office she’d been convinced she was about to be fired. Instead he had offered her enough money to make her heart stop beating, in exchange for her pretending to be ‘the light of his life’, as he had condescendingly put it.

‘As in two hundred and fifty thousand pounds cash?’

‘You want more? Fine. Make it five hundred.’

Poppy’s mouth was so dry it was arid. The man was insane. Or drunk. She narrowed her gaze, scanning his face for signs she was right. ‘Have you been drinking?’

‘Not since last night, and unfortunately the effects have worn off by now.’

She glanced around, waiting for a camera crew to jump out from behind his Chesterfield and yell, ‘Surprise!’ Only they didn’t. All that happened was her heart thumped so fast she felt faint. ‘I don’t think this is very funny.’

‘I never joke about money. And you only have yourself to blame.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Something you said to my grandfather suggested that we were a couple. Something about handling me.’ His dark brows rose mockingly. ‘Which I can assure you, Miss Connolly, no woman will ever do.’

Poppy’s throat felt tight and uncomfortable. ‘I didn’t say I could handle you.’ She frowned. ‘Your grandfather said something about you needing a firm hand and I agreed. Then he said something in Italian that I didn’t get.’

‘Do you remember what it was?’

She gave him a look. ‘I grew up in the outskirts of Leeds, Mr Castiglione. My Italian starts with si and ends with ciao.’

‘Well, thanks to my grandfather mistaking you for my latest mistress, it’s about to extend to a few days on the Amalfi coast. So, what’s your price?’

Poppy was so shocked at the thought that anyone could mistake her for this man’s anything that she couldn’t take any of this seriously. ‘You’re so desperate to impress him you’re prepared to lie?’

‘I like to think of it as taking advantage of an opportunity when it arises. And, believe me, I spent most of those wasted hours last night trying to come up with an alternative plan. I failed.’ His sculpted mouth quirked at one corner. ‘Something I don’t admit to easily.’