About the Authors

After spending three years as a die-hard New Yorker, KATE HEWITT now lives in a small village in the English Lake District with her husband, their five children and a golden retriever. In addition to writing intensely emotional stories, she loves reading, baking and playing chess with her son—she has yet to win against him, but she continues to try. Learn more about Kate at kate-hewitt.com.

USA TODAY bestselling and RITA® Award–nominated author CAITLIN CREWS loves writing romance. She teaches her favourite romance novels in creative writing classes at places like UCLA Extension’s prestigious Writers’ Programme, where she finally gets to utilise the MA and PhD in English Literature she received from the University of York in England. She currently lives in the Pacific Northwest, with her very own hero and too many pets. Visit her at caitlincrews.com.

Also by Kate Hewitt

Inherited by Ferranti

Moretti’s Marriage Command

Demetriou Demands His Child

Engaged for Her Enemy’s Heir

The Innocent’s One-Night Surrender

Desert Prince’s Stolen Bride

Princess’s Nine-Month Secret

The Secret Kept from the Italian

Greek’s Baby of Redemption

Claiming My Bride of Convenience

Seduced by a Sheikh miniseries

The Secret Heir of Alazar

The Forced Bride of Alazar

Also by Caitlin Crews

Undone by the Billionaire Duke

A Baby to Bind His Bride

Imprisoned by the Greek’s Ring

My Bought Virgin Wife

Unwrapping the Innocent’s Secret

Bound to the Desert King collection

Sheikh’s Secret Love-Child

Stolen Brides collection

The Bride’s Baby of Shame

The Combe Family Scandals miniseries

The Italian’s Twin Consequences

Untamed Billionaire’s Innocent Bride

His Two Royal Secrets

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

The Italian’s Unexpected Baby

Kate Hewitt

Secrets of His Forbidden Cinderella

Caitlin Crews

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90005-2

THE ITALIAN’S UNEXPECTED BABY & SECRETS OF HIS FORBIDDEN CINDERELLA

The Italian’s Unexpected Baby © 2019 Kate Hewitt Secrets of His Forbidden Cinderella © 2019 Caitlin Crews

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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Table of Contents

Cover

About the Authors

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

The Italian’s Unexpected Baby

Back Cover Text

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

EPILOGUE

Secrets of His Forbidden Cinderella

Back Cover Text

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

About the Publisher

The Italian’s Unexpected Baby

Kate Hewitt

His money can buy everything…

Except his heir!

Having escaped the streets of Rome, Alessandro runs a multibillion-dollar empire with a control that is world renowned. Yet Mia, his new, forthright executive assistant, threatens that control. And soon their fiery exchanges explode into unrivaled passion!

Mia is wary of trusting others, so when Alessandro coolly dismisses her after their night together, she dares not tell him she’s pregnant! But on learning her secret, he’s determined to legitimize his child. Mia’s priority is her daughter, but can she let Alessandro in when it means risking her heart?

CHAPTER ONE

‘HE’S COMING!’

Mia James’s stomach clenched unpleasantly as she hurried to stand behind her desk, shoulders back, chin up, heart pounding.

‘He’s in the lift now…’

The numbers above the silver doors glowed, one after another. Two…three…

Mia watched out of the corner of her eye as her fellow colleagues at Dillard Investments did the same as she had, scurrying to desks, standing up straight. They were like schoolchildren awaiting an inspection by the head teacher. A particularly strict and perhaps even cruel head teacher…the notoriously ruthless Alessandro Costa, self-made billionaire and, as of yesterday, the new CEO of Dillard Investments.

Yesterday the company had been taken over by Alessandro Costa in a calculated and clever manoeuvre that had shocked everyone involved in the company right down to their toes, including Mia’s boss and the CEO, Henry Dillard. Poor Henry had looked terribly shaken, aging ten years in a matter of minutes as he realised there was nothing he could do to stop Costa International from gaining controlling shares; it had all happened before he’d even had a chance to realise, Costa stalking the company the way a ruthless predator would a prey.

Four…five… The lift doors pinged open and Mia drew her breath sharply as the new CEO of Dillard Investments stepped through them. She’d seen photos of him online, having done an exhaustive internet search last night when the news had been confirmed that Dillard’s had been taken over. What she’d learned had far from reassured her.

Alessandro Costa specialised in hostile takeovers and then stripping the companies of their assets and employees, to be absorbed into his behemoth of a corporation, Costa International.

A few months ago, he’d taken over a company similar to Dillard’s—small, family-owned, a bit antiquated. Now it was virtually gone, swallowed up by the man who was striding onto the top floor of the building Dillard’s owned in Mayfair.

Mia tried not to make eye contact with Alessandro Costa, but she found she couldn’t stop looking at him. The photos on the internet didn’t do him justice, she realised with an uneasy pang of physical awareness. They didn’t communicate his intense energy, as if a force field surrounded him, as if he crackled.

Cropped dark hair, as black as midnight, framed a face that was all angles and hard lines, from his jaw to his nose to the dark slashes of brows over cold, steel-grey eyes. His body, tall and lethally powerful, was encased in a hand-tailored suit of dark grey silk, the silver tie at his throat matching the colour of his eyes. He made Mia think of a laser, or a sword…something powerful and lethal. A weapon.

He came onto the floor with its open-plan desks with quick, purposeful strides, his narrowed, hawk-like gaze moving in quick yet thorough assessment around the room, pinning people in place. It felt as if the very air trembled. Mia was afraid she did. Alessandro Costa was incredibly intimidating.

She knew everyone’s job was up for grabs, and most likely down the drain as well. In his last takeover, it had been rumoured that Costa had kept three employees out of forty. As personal assistant to the CEO, Mia knew her position would almost certainly be cut. Costa undoubtedly had his own executive assistant already in place, and as he didn’t seem likely to keep Dillard’s going as a separate entity, her job had most likely become obsolete last night, with the takeover.

Still, she was determined to try to do something to keep it. She’d been working for Dillard Investments since she was nineteen, fresh from a B Tech business course, bright-eyed and determined to make something of herself and, most importantly, to finally be independent.

All her childhood she’d been under the controlling thumb of her unbearably autocratic father, having to do as he said and dance to his tune, however discordant its notes. Her mother had been the same, cringing and hopeful in dispiriting turns, and Mia had vowed to gain her freedom as soon as she could—and never make the same kind of mistake her mother had, by marrying a charming yet controlling man…or any man at all.

So now, while Mia knew she could find another job, she resisted the prospect of being fired from this one for no good reason. She’d been here a long time, had worked hard, and had made a few friends along the way.

She might be likely to lose her job anyway, but she’d go down fighting. She had to, as points of both pride and principle.

Alessandro Costa had stopped in the centre of the room, his feet spread wide, his hands on his hips. He looked like the king of an empire, surveying his domain. Like something out of a fairy tale, except in a three-piece suit.

‘Who is Mia James?’ he asked, his voice slightly accented, the words crisp and precise as they echoed through the open space.

Mia felt every eye on the floor turn instinctively towards her. Like a child in school being called on by a teacher, she raised her hand, hoping her voice would come out strong.

‘I am.’ She might have overshot it, she realised; she sounded strident. Aggressive, even, to hide her nervousness.

Alessandro Costa’s eyes narrowed even further in appraisal, and his lips flattened into a hard line.

‘Come with me,’ he said, and walked into Henry Dillard’s office, the only private space on the floor, an elegant room with wood panelled walls and leather club chairs, tasteful oil paintings and heavy curtains. It felt like a gentleman’s club, or the study of an elegant townhouse, which it very well might once have been. Dillard’s offices were in a former home, although much of it had been gutted for desk space.

Costa strode towards the big, mahogany desk, inlaid with leather, that Henry had always sat behind while Mia had taken notes or dictation. Henry had been eccentrically old school; he’d only bought a laptop a few years ago, and he’d still depended on Mia to manage emails and spreadsheets, finding both quite beyond him, and not seeming to mind.

It gave her a pang now to think that was all over; Henry had retreated to his estate in Surrey, and Mia half wondered if she’d ever see him again. Last night, as he’d shuffled out of the office, his business in ruins around him, he’d seemed like an old, broken man, and it had wrung her heart right out. And it was this man’s fault.

Alessandro Costa stood behind Henry’s old desk, his hands placed flat on its surface, fingers spread wide, as he stared at her, his eyes magnetic, his body radiating barely suppressed energy. Although his expression was focused, it wasn’t unfriendly. He looked like a man intent on action, and it made Mia tense, something in her kicking up a notch, ready to respond.

‘I need you.’ Costa spoke the words matter-of-factly, but stupidly they made Mia’s heart skip a silly beat. He didn’t mean in that way, of course he didn’t. But perhaps he meant she might keep her job…

‘You…do?’

‘Yes, for the moment, at least.’ Costa straightened, his gaze surveying her with cool appraisal. ‘You’ve been Dillard’s PA for how long?’

‘Seven years.’

He nodded slowly. ‘And, as far as I can see, you were the plug on his life support.’

Mia blinked, absorbing the cruel bluntness of that statement. ‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ she said quietly, although admittedly there was some truth in it. In reality, Henry Dillard would have been happy playing golf and letting the company his father had founded dwindle away to nothing. The company had been ripe for a takeover, even if he hadn’t seen it himself, and Mia had never let herself consider such a possibility.

‘Perhaps that’s a bit harsh,’ Costa allowed, ‘but Dillard himself admitted he was behind the times. Of course, many of his clients are, as well.’

‘Which begs the question why you took it over,’ Mia returned. Costa’s eyebrows rose as he kept her gaze, and something sparked to life in Mia, something she most certainly wasn’t going to acknowledge.

‘Yes, it does, doesn’t it?’ he remarked. ‘Fortunately that is not something you need to concern yourself with.’

And that was her, put firmly in her place. ‘Very well.’ She met his narrowed, steely gaze unflinchingly, although it cost her. Every time she looked at him she felt something in her spark and tingle in a way she definitely didn’t like. The man was intense and a little scary, but there was something that drew her to him as well—something in his fierce energy, his incredible focus. ‘So why do you need me?’ she asked, deciding that keeping things on track was her best bet.

‘I need you because I require your knowledge of Henry’s clients so I can deal with them appropriately. So as long as you prove useful…’

Which sounded like a barely veiled threat, or perhaps just a statement of fact. Mia couldn’t imagine Alessandro Costa putting up with anyone who wasn’t useful.

‘And when I don’t prove useful?’ she asked, although she had a feeling she didn’t want to know the answer.

‘Then you’ll be let go,’ Costa said bluntly. ‘I don’t keep useless employees. It’s bad business practice.’

‘What about the rest of the staff?’

‘Again, none of your concern.’

Wow. The man had no hesitation in being blunt, yet Mia didn’t sense any cruel relish in his words, just simple bare statements of fact, which she could appreciate, even if she didn’t like them.

In any case, needlessly sparring with Alessandro Costa was a fast track to being fired, and she wanted to keep her job. She needed to keep her job. It felt like the only thing she had.

‘All right.’ She straightened, tipping her chin up, determined to stay professional and match his focus. ‘What would you like me to do?’

Something silver flashed in Alessandro’s grey eyes; it almost looked like approval, and it made a ripple of pleased awareness race through her, treacherous and molten, racing through her fingers and down to her toes. ‘I want files on all of Dillard’s major clients, with notes about any potential quirks, habits, tendencies, or any other pertinent information within the hour. We’ll talk through it all then.’

‘All right.’ Mia thought she could manage that, if only just.

‘Good.’ Without another word, Alessandro Costa strode out of the office, closing the door firmly behind him.

Mia let out a gusty breath and then, on watery legs, she sank into a chair in front of the desk. Now that he was gone, she realised afresh how much energy Costa drew from her, how much adrenalin he stirred up so her heart still pounded and her head felt light. Talking with him had felt like a full mental and physical workout. Ten minutes of it and she was, strangely, both exhausted and energised.

She was also…affected. The man’s forceful personality was only part of his intense charisma; she’d felt as if she couldn’t look away from him—the eyes that almost glowed, the barely leashed energy that radiated from him, the power that was evident in every taut line of his body. Even now she breathed in the faint scent of his aftershave, something with sandalwood in it, and she felt the urge to tremble. Thankfully, she didn’t.

On still shaky legs Mia rose from her chair. She needed to show Alessandro Costa she was oh-so-useful, and more than that, she was necessary. Essential, even. Because she wasn’t ready to contemplate the alternative.

Quickly Mia left Henry’s old office and went to her desk immediately outside of it. The crowds that had been waiting for Alessandro Costa’s arrival had dispersed, and people were back at their desks, attempting to at least seem as if they were working.

Alessandro was nowhere to be seen, and Mia wondered what he was doing. Inspecting the ranks? Firing someone? If the rumours were true, he’d fire most of Dillard’s staff, just as he had countless other times, something she couldn’t bear to think about. She had to focus. She had a job to do.

Dillard Investments was even more of a sorry mess than he’d realised. After a morning of meeting employees and assessing the company’s condition, Alessandro Costa felt nothing but a scathing derision for Henry Dillard, a man whose affable exterior hid a terrible weakness—a weakness that had caused the inevitable loss of his company, his clients’ assets, and the well-being of his employees. The man had the appearance of a lovable teddy bear, but Alessandro was glad he’d put an end to his benevolent ineptitude.

By refusing to keep up with the times and seek out new opportunities and investments, Henry Dillard had been slowly, or not so slowly, running his company as well as his clients’ portfolios into the red, content to live off his dwindling profits and focus on his golf game. If Alessandro hadn’t taken over the company, someone else surely would have.

Better, though, that it was him. This was his field of expertise, after all, and what he’d made his life’s mission: taking over failing or corrupt companies and turning them into something useful, or else dismantling them completely.

As Alessandro knew and had seen, over and over again, the opportunity of defeating the enemy lay within the enemy himself…discovering his weaknesses and finding his vulnerabilities. It was a concept from Sun Tzu’s The Art of War, and what Alessandro had learned long ago was that not only was business war, but life was war, a battle fought every day, and he had the scars to prove it. Yes, life was war… And he was in it to win.

At least a third of the employees he’d met with today would have to be fired. It seemed as if Dillard had never let anyone go, whether out of sentimentality, stupidity, or just sheer laziness Alessandro didn’t know or particularly care.

He always tried to keep redundancies to a minimum, preferring to transfer people to other positions within his portfolio of companies, but many of the staff he’d met here clearly didn’t deserve such an opportunity. Dillard’s PA, Mia James, being a notable exception…

Surprisingly, reluctantly, Alessandro had been intrigued by her. She was beautiful in a very boring, very English way—straight blonde hair, cornflower blue eyes, a clear, healthy complexion, a tall and athletic figure, without any noticeable curves. Competent…in every way, and not the kind of woman that usually sparked his sensual interest.

She was the kind of woman, Alessandro reflected, who had probably been captain of her hockey team at school, who hiked on weekends and had had crushes on horses rather than boys growing up. Who would marry a suitable man and have the requisite two children, a boy and a girl. No one, clearly, whom he would let himself be interested in, much less pursue.

Yet she’d intrigued him. And he didn’t like to be intrigued, especially not by a PA whom he would most likely transfer as soon as possible, because he worked best alone. Always had, always would, in every way possible. That was the only way he knew how to conduct his life, learned in childhood and honed to a highly polished skill in adulthood, and he didn’t see it changing. Ever.

Mia James was waiting for him in Dillard’s office when he walked in an hour after he’d last seen her, to the minute. Alessandro always kept to time, kept his word. Stayed in control, even in such seemingly small, incidental matters, as a point of principle, a matter of pride.

‘Well?’ he asked. ‘Do you have the files?’

She’d risen from her chair as he’d entered, making him notice, rather unwillingly, her long, slender legs encased in sheer black tights, her feet in low black heels. She wore a black pencil skirt and blazer, a crisp white blouse, a simple gold pendant at her throat. Her long, wheat-coloured hair was caught cleanly behind in a clip. He could not fault anything about her, and yet he still felt discomfited. Irritated, even, by his own interest as much as her presence.

He didn’t let people affect him. He didn’t do emotions, and he most definitely didn’t act on them. His own unsettled childhood was testament to the power of emotions, as well as the danger, which was why he behaved in a tightly controlled way that made sense. Because Alessandro Costa needed to be in control. Always.

‘I have everything right here,’ Mia said, her voice calm and cool. Unflappable, unlike how he was feeling, which annoyed him further. ‘Personal files and relevant information on Dillard’s ten most important clients.’

‘And how did you determine they were the most important?’ Alessandro asked, his voice something close to a snap.

Her clear blue gaze met his; she seemed untroubled by his tone. ‘They are the largest investors, and they’ve been with Dillard’s the longest amount of time.’

‘Everyone’s been with Dillard’s since the time of dinosaurs,’ Alessandro returned, his irritation making him more callous than he normally would have let himself be. ‘That’s the nature of the place.’

‘Dillard’s longevity is one of its points of pride,’ Mia agreed, her voice—and what a low, pleasant voice it was—carefully equable. She would not rise to his irritable bait. Another point in her favour, yet unreasonably this just annoyed him further.

He sprawled in the chair behind the desk, beckoning her forward with one hand. ‘So show me.’

Mia hesitated for the barest of seconds—hardly noticeable except Alessandro felt so weirdly attuned to her—and then she scooped up the pile of folders and walked around to his side of the desk, placing them in front of him and then flipping the first one open.

‘James Davis, a millionaire who set up his own company to manage his financial interests. Inherited money. Generous to a fault. Affable and easy-going but very little common sense. Happy to follow a lead, generally speaking.’

Alessandro was silent, reluctantly impressed by how quickly and clearly she’d summed up the client. Given him all the relevant information, without anything unnecessary, exactly as he would have wanted. So few people impressed him, but Mia James had. In more ways than one.

He glanced down at the top sheet detailing the man’s investments but the figures blurred in front of him as he inhaled Mia James’s scent—something understated and citrusy. She was standing quite close to him, her breasts on a level with his gaze. Not that he was looking, but he did notice how the crisp white cotton with discreet pin tucks highlighted her trim figure. Perhaps curves were overrated.

What was he thinking?

Now seriously annoyed with himself and his unruly thoughts, Alessandro flipped through the pages, skimming all the relevant details with more focus than usual. ‘He’s operating at a loss,’ he observed after a moment.

‘Yes.’ Another tiny hesitation. ‘Many of Dillard’s clients are, in the current financial climate. Henry—Mr Dillard—was confident things would bounce back, or at least even out, in the next eighteen months.’

When he would have been retired, with no need to worry about the financial markets or how they were affecting his clients. Alessandro had spoken to Henry Dillard on the phone yesterday, when the takeover had been complete. He always tried to treat his adversaries with dignity, especially when he’d won, which he always did.

Dillard had been furious to be bested by someone he considered his social inferior—and had made that quite clear. Alessandro had taken it in his stride; it was hardly unusual when he chose to target companies run by men like Henry Dillard—entitled, wealthy, and weak. He almost felt sorry for the man; he hadn’t been corrupt, like some of the CEOs Alessandro had taken down, just inept. He’d frittered away his family’s company, indifferent to his clients’ needs, and now he was angry that someone he didn’t think deserved his company had won it fairly. Alessandro had no respect for such people. He’d dealt with too many in his life—first as a child, when he’d had no power, and then as a man, when he’d made sure that he did.

‘Eighteen months is a lifetime in the stock market,’ he told Mia. ‘Henry Dillard should have known that.’

Mia drew a quick breath. ‘As I said, longevity—’

‘Was one of Dillard’s assets. It isn’t any more.’ He swivelled to face her, tilting his head up to meet her blue, blue eyes. As their gazes met and tangled something clanged inside him, like an almighty bell. He felt it reverberate through his whole body, and he thought Mia did as well, judging from the way her pupils dilated, and she moistened her lips with her tongue.

‘Sit down,’ he ordered, and surprise flared briefly in her eyes before she complied silently, taking the seat across from him, so the desk was between them.

That was better. Now he wouldn’t be distracted. He wouldn’t let himself.

‘Next, please,’ he ordered, and calmly Mia took him through the rest of the clients—all of them old money, with an outdated view of investment, wealth, risk, everything. Dillard Investments was an institution that had lazily rested on its well-worn laurels for far too long…which was exactly why Alessandro had bought it.

Finished with the files, he glanced at Mia, who was sitting perfectly straight in her seat, legs to the side, ankles neatly crossed, her expression deliberately serene. She looked like a duchess. It annoyed Alessandro, as everything about her seemed to, which was a reaction he knew didn’t make sense, and yet it was. It was, because he’d much rather be annoyed by her than affected. Which he also was. Unfortunately.

‘Thank you for this,’ he finally said, his voice clipped.

‘Will there be anything else?’

‘How well do you know Dillard’s clients?’

Surprise rippled across the placid expression on her face, like wind on water, and then she gave a tiny shrug. ‘Fairly well, I suppose.’

‘Do you interact with them often?’

‘When they visit the office, yes. I chat with them, give them coffee, that sort of thing.’ She paused, her gaze scanning his face, looking for clues as to what he wanted from her. ‘I’ve also organised the annual summer party for clients and their families, held at Mr Dillard’s estate in Surrey, every year.’

‘You have?’ He would have expected Dillard to hire an event planner for such a high-profile event, but perhaps he was too indifferent even for that. ‘That must have been quite time consuming.’

‘Yes, but rewarding. I enjoy meeting and seeing the families. I’ve become friends with some of them, in a professional capacity only, of course. But after seven years, I believe I can say that I know many of them quite well.’

Alessandro could picture it—Mia circulating quietly through the crowds, always at the ready to help, providing whatever was needed—a tissue, a glass of champagne, a shoulder to cry on. Learning the secrets and weaknesses of Dillard’s clients and their families, as well as their strengths.

Which made Mia James invaluable…for now. She could help him to get to know Dillard’s clients, so he could make a more informed decision about which to pursue or keep.

‘So,’ Mia asked as he continued to stare at her, his mind clicking over, ‘was there anything else you needed?’

‘Yes,’ Alessandro stated as realisation unfurled and then crystallised inside him. ‘Your attendance at a charity gala with me tonight.’

CHAPTER TWO

MIA STARED AT Alessandro’s determined, unyielding expression, registering the iron in his eyes, the laser-like focus of his gaze, and tried to make sense of his request.

‘Pardon?’ she finally said, wishing she didn’t feel wrong-footed by his invitation. She’d been doing her best to be the perfect, unflappable PA since he’d stormed into the office, practically vibrating with energy. At moments like this it felt like no more than a flimsy façade.

‘A charity gala at the Ritz,’ Alessandro clarified, his voice now very slightly edged with impatience, as if she wasn’t catching on quickly enough. ‘Many of Dillard’s clients will be there. I’m attending to reassure them of their assets’ safety. You will attend with me.’

A command, then, and one she couldn’t afford to disobey. Still, Mia’s mind whirled. She’d never attended such a highbrow function, and in what capacity? As his PA? As his date?

No, of course not. She was mad to think that way even for a second, and yet somehow the way he’d said ‘with me’ had felt…

Possessive. As if he were staking his claim on her, branding her with his words.

But of course that wasn’t what he meant. The prospect horrified her, and would undoubtedly horrify him even more. Alessandro Costa most certainly didn’t think of her like that. And she most certainly didn’t want him to.

But why did he need her at such an event? When she’d been Henry Dillard’s PA, she’d always had a quiet, unnoticeable presence. Invisible on purpose, gliding through the shadows. She’d attended the summer party, yes, but only as the organiser, slipping quietly behind the scenes, doing her best to be both indispensable and out of the way.

She’d never gone to any other of Henry’s many social functions—the balls and cocktail parties, fundraisers and expensive, boozy dinners in Michelin-starred restaurants. Of course she hadn’t.

‘I’m not sure…’ she began, and then stopped, because she wasn’t sure what she was trying to say. That she wasn’t the kind of person he should ask? That she didn’t normally go to these events? That she’d be out of her depth? All three, but the last thing she wanted to do was admit her weakness or unsuitability. Alessandro Costa seemed as if he was simply waiting for her to give him one good reason to fire her, and she was determined not to humour him in that regard.

‘You’re not sure…?’ he prompted, an edge to his voice, as if he was daring her.

Mia lifted her chin. ‘When is the gala?’

The tiniest smile quirked the corner of his mouth, electrifying her. The man was devastating already, but heaven help her if he smiled. His eyes turned to silver and Mia’s insides turned molten. She swallowed audibly and kept her chin up.

‘Seven o’clock.’

Mia’s mind raced. It was undoubtedly a black-tie event, formal wear absolutely necessary, and her only appropriate outfit was a basic and rather boring black cocktail dress, back at her flat in Wimbledon. It would take nearly an hour to get there, and then back again…

‘What is it?’ Alessandro demanded, now definitely starting to sound annoyed. ‘Why are you looking like this won’t be possible, when I can assure you it is?’

‘No reason,’ Mia said quickly. She’d manage. Somehow she’d manage. ‘I’ll be ready at seven.’

‘Six forty-five,’ Alessandro returned. ‘On the dot. I like to be punctual.’

Back at her desk Mia couldn’t concentrate on anything, not that there was very much for her to do. Like everyone else she was in limbo, waiting to find out how Alessandro Costa decided to handle his new acquisition, and whether they would have jobs come morning.

A few minutes after she’d left the office, Alessandro strode out of it, without sparing her a single glance. As he stepped into the lift, she tried not to notice how the expensive material of his suit stretched across his shoulders, or his dark hair gleamed blue-black in the light. She certainly wasn’t going to remember that twang of energy that she’d felt reverberate between them when she’d been standing close enough to inhale the heady scent of his aftershave. No, definitely not noticing any of those things. In fact, she decided, now was as good a time as any to go back to her flat and fetch her dress.

Her heart tumbled in her chest as she grabbed her handbag and headed out, half afraid of running into Alessandro and having to bear the brunt of his ire. It was lunchtime, so she had a reason to be leaving the office, but she still felt nervous about crossing or irritating him in any way. Her job, she acknowledged grimly, was in a very precarious place, no matter how useful she seemed to him at the moment.

An hour and a half later, Mia was breathlessly hurrying back into the office, her dress and shoes clutched in a bag to her chest. As the lift doors slid open, she stepped inside—and smack into Alessandro Costa.

The breath left her chest with a startling whoosh, and she would have stumbled had Alessandro not clamped his hands on her shoulders to steady her. For a heart-stopping second his nearness overwhelmed her, the heat and power rolling off him in intoxicating waves. Her mind blurred and then blanked, her palms flat on his very well-muscled chest, fingers stretching instinctively as if to feel more of him. She could not think of a single thing to say. She couldn’t even move, conscious only of his powerful, hard body so very near to hers. If she so much as swayed their hips would actually brush…

Then Alessandro released her, stepping back, his mouth compressed in a hard line as he raked her with a single, scathing glance. ‘Where have you been?’

‘I’m sorry, were you looking for me?’

‘I wanted the files on Dillard’s less impressive clients. Did you think I’d be satisfied with only the top ten?’ Even for him, he sounded on edge, his body taut with barely suppressed tension.

‘I’m sorry, I was at lunch.’

‘For an hour and a half?’

Mia shook her head, a flush fighting its way up her throat and across her face. She’d been afraid of this exact scenario, and now that it was a reality she couldn’t handle it. He was still standing so close, and every time she took a breath she inhaled the aroma of his aftershave, felt his heat. ‘No, of course not.’ She drew herself up, holding onto the last threads of her composure. She could do this. She needed to do this. ‘If you must know, I went back to my flat to find a dress to wear this evening. But I will have the other files to you shortly, I promise.’

Alessandro stared at her for another agonising moment before he gave a brief, terse nod. ‘Very well. I expect files on all the other clients within the hour. Exactly.’

Mia had no doubt he’d been timing her to the second. The man was a stickler for detail…among other things. Back at her desk she hung her dress up on the back of a door and hurried to amass the files Alessandro had demanded. She’d be hard-pressed to do it in an hour, but she was determined to show Alessandro she could.

Fingers flying, mind racing, she managed to assemble everything and jot down relevant notes, stepping into Henry’s—now Alessandro’s—office with one minute to spare. Alessandro glanced at his watch as she stepped through the doors, and then one of his faint smiles quirked his mouth for no more than a second, making her catch her breath.

Heaven help her.

‘Impressive,’ he said after a moment, sounding both amused and reluctantly admiring. ‘I didn’t think you could do it in an hour.’

‘You underestimate me, Mr Costa.’

His gaze lingered on her, and Mia felt her body start to tingle and hum. ‘Maybe I do,’ he murmured, and held out his hand for the files.

Mia handed them to him, and then took him through each one, making sure to sit on the other side of the desk as he’d requested before.

It was surely better for her to have a little distance between them; being near him had the troubling side-effect of short-circuiting her brain. She didn’t know whether it was his intimidating presence, his undeniable charisma, or the unavoidable fact of his outrageously good looks that turned her mind to slush, but something about him did, and that was definitely not a good reaction to have to her boss, or even to anyone. Mia never wanted another person to have any power over her—not physical, not emotional, and certainly not sensual. Just thinking about it made goose-pimples rise on her flesh. Alessandro certainly had the last one…if she let him.

‘Is there anything else you need?’ she asked once they’d gone through all the files, her body tense from holding herself apart and doing her utmost not to notice the powerful muscles of his forearms when he’d rolled up his shirtsleeves, or the stubble now glinting on the hard line of his jaw. No, she was definitely not noticing anything like that.

‘Yes,’ Alessandro told her shortly. ‘Show me your dress.’

Her mouth dropped open before she snapped it shut. ‘My…dress?’

‘Yes, your dress. I want to make sure it is suitable. As my companion, how you look is important.’

‘Your companion…’ Her mind spun emptily again. Surely he wasn’t suggesting…?

‘We are attending together,’ Alessandro clarified pointedly, as if to highlight the utter impossibility of whatever she might have been thinking. ‘You must be suitably attired. Now show me the dress.’

Wordlessly Mia rose from her seat. She had no idea what Alessandro Costa considered suitably attired, but she had a feeling her plain black cocktail dress, bought from the bargain rack, wasn’t going to be it. Unless he wanted her to be discreet, even invisible, as Henry Dillard had? As she was used to being from childhood, slipping in and out of the shadows, trying not to draw attention to herself, in case she provoked her father’s anger? Because in all truth she wasn’t sure she knew how to be anything else.

She grabbed the dress and returned to the office, holding it in front of her. ‘Will this do?’ she asked, unable to keep the faintest tremble from her voice. She’d never had her boss vet her clothing choices before, and she didn’t like it. She certainly didn’t like feeling controlled, even in as small a matter as this. She’d had enough of that in her life, and she didn’t want or need any more, not even by the boss whose good side she was trying to stay on.

‘You intended to wear that?’ Alessandro sounded both scandalised and completely derisive. ‘Did you want to be mistaken for one of the serving staff?’

Mia’s chin went up. ‘It’s perfectly appropriate.’

‘It’s perfectly dreadful, like something a junior secretary would wear to the office Christmas party.’

She had worn it to such a party, and so Mia did not deign to reply to his remark. Alessandro might be offensively blunt, but there was more perception and truth to his remarks than she wanted to acknowledge.

‘You can’t wear it,’ he stated. ‘You won’t.’

‘I don’t have anything else,’ Mia returned. ‘So if you wish for me to attend…’

‘Then I will make sure you do have something.’ He slid his phone out of his pocket. ‘I will not have you on my arm looking like Cinderella still in her rags.’

‘So you’ll be my fairy godmother?’ Mia quipped before she could attempt a more measured reply. What was it about this man that made her hackles rise, everything in her resist? Henry Dillard had certainly never made her respond like this, but then Henry Dillard had never spoken to her in such an arrogant, autocratic way. He’d been affably incompetent, content to let her organise everything.

Alessandro’s eyes gleamed like molten silver as his mouth quirked the tiniest bit, making her respond to him. Again. A very inconvenient response, when her stomach fizzed and her heart leapt. Mia was determined to ignore it. ‘Now, that is the first time anyone has called me that,’ he said, his mouth curving deeper, and Mia forced herself to look away.

Alessandro angled his body away from Mia as he spoke into the phone, asking for a personal stylist to be brought to the office immediately. His right-hand man, Luca, took the rather unexpected request in his stride.

Ending the call, Alessandro turned back to face Mia, trying not to notice the rise and fall of her chest with every agitated breath she took; clearly she didn’t like him deciding what she should wear, although she should be thankful he’d vetted her selection. That black bag of a dress looked cheap and boring and was hardly what he needed his companion for the evening to turn up in.

‘As your PA, I don’t see why I need to wear some fancy dress,’ Mia said, clearly striving to moderate her tone. ‘Or, in fact, why I need to attend this gala at all. It’s highly unusual…’

‘You need to attend because many of the guests there will be Dillard’s clients,’ Alessandro answered. ‘And you will know them better than I do. I require your knowledge in this matter.’

‘Still…’

‘And you need to wear a gown worthy of the occasion,’ Alessandro cut across her. He didn’t like her protestations; he was used to being obeyed instantly, and Mia James seemed not to have realised that.

‘The clients will know I’m Henry’s PA,’ she protested. ‘If I dress up like a proper guest, they’ll think I’m putting on airs—’

‘You are my PA now, and you are my guest,’ Alessandro returned. ‘You will wear an appropriate gown. I am sure there will be something you fancy from the selection provided.’ He gave her a quelling look. ‘Most women I know would be thrilled to have such an opportunity of choice.’

‘Somehow I don’t think I’m like most women you know,’ Mia returned tartly, making him smile.

‘That is very true. Even so, I would like you to pick a dress that is suitable.’

Mia nodded, setting her jaw, her eyes sparking like bits of blue ice. ‘Very well,’ she said, sounding far from pleased about the matter. Despite the difficulties of the situation, Alessandro would have thought she’d enjoy the opportunity to select a new gown.

‘The stylist will be here shortly,’ he told her. ‘Until then you may return to your work.’

With a brief, brisk nod Mia swivelled on her heel and walked out of the office, closing the door behind her with a firm click that was halfway to becoming a slam. It annoyed and amused Alessandro in equal measure. Normally he didn’t like people to oppose him; in fact, he hated any sign of disobedience or disrespect.

As he was a man of both drive and focus, work was a well-oiled machine and rebelliousness was inefficient as well as time-consuming. And, while Mia’s rebelliousness did annoy him, that contrary spark of defiance somehow…enflamed him.

The knowledge rested uncomfortably with him. He was attracted to her, he acknowledged starkly, and that was something he most certainly could and would control. There was no place for attraction within the workplace, and self-control had always been his personal creed, the way he lived his life. The way he stayed on top.

He would never, ever be like his mother, whose sorry life had been tossed on the waves of other people’s whims, her poverty and powerlessness making her constantly vulnerable, searching for love and meaning in shabby, shallow relationships.

Alessandro would never be like that…never at another person’s mercy…not even for the sake of a very inconvenient desire.

Still, he was uncomfortably aware of the simple fact of his attraction, as well as the realisation that his desire to see Mia attired in an appropriate gown was not quite as professional and expedient as he’d made it seem.

As she’d pointed out herself, she was known as Dillard’s PA and a simple, serviceable dress would certainly have been adequate. Yet he hadn’t wanted to see his date in something resembling a bin bag. He hadn’t wanted to see Mia in it.

Still, he told himself, he needed to make the right impression tonight. The last thing he wanted was for people to look at him and think that an impostor had shown up along with his secretary. Because Alessandro had earned the right to be at the party, just as he’d earned the right to be sitting in the office. Just as he’d earned everything he had, fighting for it and winning it, time and time again, a man with a mission. A man who won.

A few minutes later Luca texted him that the stylist had arrived, and Alessandro rose to find Mia. She was at her desk, and as he came to stand behind her, glancing at the screen of her laptop, a cold wave of displeasure and shock rippled through him.

‘You’re working on your CV?’

She swivelled sharply in her chair, her eyes widening with alarm at the sight of him looking at the screen, but when she spoke her voice was cool. ‘For when I’m no longer useful.’

‘And that is not now.’ With one brisk movement Alessandro clicked the mouse to close the document, without saving any changes. Mia’s mouth compressed but she did not protest against his action. ‘The stylist is here. You may use my office.’

Mia’s eyes flashed and he wondered what she objected to—his dismissal of her dress, or his order for a new one? Or simply his manner, which was even more autocratic than usual, because it felt like the best defence against this irritating and inconvenient attraction that simmered beneath the surface, threatening to bubble up?

Even now he found himself sneaking looks at the tantalising vee of ivory skin visible at the all too modest neck of her blouse, and noting the soft curve of her jaw, and the way a wisp of golden hair had fallen against her cheek. He itched to tuck it behind her ear, let his fingers skim to her lobe, a prospect which was too bizarre to be entertained even for a second.

He didn’t want to do things like that. Ever. Relationships were not on his radar, and sex was nothing more than a physical urge to be sated like any other. He’d always been able to find women who were agreeable to his terms. More than agreeable, so why was he feeling this strange way about Mia James?

He wasn’t. Or at least he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t let himself. Work was too important to risk for a moment’s satisfaction, even with someone as annoyingly beguiling as the woman in front of him.

‘Are you coming?’ he asked tersely, and she nodded, rising from her seat with unconscious elegance, following him with a graceful, long-legged stride. Alessandro found himself watching the gentle sway of her hips before he resolutely turned his gaze away.

A few minutes later the stylist arrived with a flurry of plastic-swathed hangers, an assistant behind her carrying several boxes and bags. Alessandro supervised their setting up before he decided to leave Mia to it.

‘Let me see your final choice,’ he instructed, and she arched one golden eyebrow.

‘To approve it?’

‘Of course.’ That was the point of this whole exercise, was it not? Still, he decided to temper his reply, for her benefit. ‘Thank you for attending to this matter.’

She pressed her lips together. ‘It’s not as if I had much choice.’

Alessandro frowned. ‘I’m offering you a dress. Is that so objectionable?’

‘It’s not the dress and you know it,’ she snapped, and surprisingly, he let out a laugh.

‘No, I suppose not.’

‘It’s your entire manner,’ she emphasised, and he nodded.

‘Yes, I realise,’ he said dryly. ‘So at least we’re in agreement about something.’

For the next few hours he found he could not concentrate on the business at hand, a fact which annoyed him as much as everything else about Mia James had done. What was it about the woman that got under his skin, burrowed deep inside? Was it simply her attractiveness, which was undeniable, or something else? The hint of defiance in the set of her shoulders, the surprising vulnerability he sensed beneath the surface? Why on earth did he care?

It was annoying. It was alarming. And it had to stop.

‘Mr Costa?’ The stylist’s fluttering voice interrupted his unruly thoughts; he’d been staring at his laptop screen for who knew how long? ‘Miss James has selected her dress and is ready for you to see it.’

‘Thank you.’ He rose and walked quickly to the office, steeling himself for whatever he was to see. Despite his best intention to remain utterly unmoved, he was still shocked by the sight of her, her slender body swathed in an ice-blue gown of ruched silk that hugged her figure before flaring out around her ankles in a decadent display of iridescent, shimmering material. Instead of back in a sedate clip, her hair was twisted into an elegant chignon. Diamonds sparkled at her ears and throat. She looked like a Norse goddess, an ice queen, everything about her coolly beautiful, icily intoxicating.

Desire crashed over him in an overwhelming wave, unexpected even now in its intensity and force. He wanted to pluck the diamond-tipped pins from her hair. He wanted to tug on the discreet zip in the back of her dress, and count the sharp knobs of her vertebrae, taste the smooth silkiness of her skin.

He wanted. And he never let himself want.

‘Well?’ Mia asked, her voice taut. ‘Will I pass?’

‘Yes,’ he answered after another beat of tense silence, barely managing to get the word out. ‘You’ll pass.’

She let out a huff of sound, turning away from him, and the stylist’s face fell a little bit at his damningly faint praise. Alessandro didn’t care. Already he was regretting his command to have Mia accompany him tonight. Already he was looking forward to it far more than he should.

‘I’ll go and change myself,’ he said when a few seconds had ticked by without anyone saying a word. ‘Be ready to leave in ten minutes.’

Mia nodded, not quite looking at him, and again Alessandro was captivated by the curve of her jaw, the hollow of her throat, the dip of her waist, each one begging to be explored and savoured. He turned away quickly, striding out of the office without another word.

The sooner this evening was over, the better. This desire he felt was inconvenient and overwhelming and very much unwanted. But, like everything else in his life, he would control it. It would just take a little more effort than he’d anticipated.

CHAPTER THREE

MIA FELT AS if she’d fallen down a rabbit hole into some strange, charmed alternative reality…a reality where she rode in limousines, and drank champagne, and walked into a glittering ballroom on the arm of the most handsome man there.

Of course, as PA to Henry Dillard she’d ridden in plenty of limousines. She’d drunk more than enough champagne. But it had always been as an employee, someone to serve and be invisible while she was at it. Someone to make sure the champagne was flowing, and that the limousine arrived on time. Someone who didn’t stride into parties, but sidled along the sidelines, checking that everything was going according to plan and keeping out of the way.

Tonight was entirely different. Tonight, much to her own amazement, she felt like the belle of the ball. It was beyond bizarre. It was also intoxicating, far more than any champagne she might quaff.

It had started with the stylist bringing out several exquisite dresses for Mia to choose from, and then doing her hair and make-up as well, before finishing off her incredible ensemble with the most beautiful diamond earrings and necklace Mia had ever seen.

As someone who had prided herself on always being smart and sensible, no-nonsense and pragmatic, it had felt to her as decadent as an endless dark chocolate sundae to be so pampered and primped. She hadn’t expected to enjoy it; she’d been fully intent on chafing at every opportunity, resenting Alessandro’s needless autocratic intervention, but then…she hadn’t.

She’d submitted to the stylist’s every instruction, and then she’d started to enjoy it. To relish it. Part of her was horrified by her own acquiescence, and what it might mean. And yet…it was one night. One magical night after a lifetime of having her head down, working hard. Why shouldn’t she enjoy it?

At some point she’d let her mind slide into a comforting sort of blurry nothingness, floating on a sea of ease and comfort. As she usually tried to anticipate every possibility, consider every choice, it felt wonderfully relaxing not to overthink this. She wasn’t going to wonder what Alessandro Costa wanted with her, or with Dillard Investments, or whether her job, not to mention any of her friends’, was secure. She was just going to enjoy a night like no other, because she doubted she’d see another one like it, and that was fine.

And then the moment when Alessandro had come into the room and looked her over…that moment had felt as if the world was tilting on its axis, as if everything was sliding away from the comforting security of its anchor even as it came into glittering focus.

For that one second Mia had seen a flash of masculine approval blaze in his eyes like golden fire and it had ignited her right through, as her blood heated and fizzed and her mind spun out possibilities she’d never dared to dream of.

Then he’d told her she’d pass, his voice as laconic as ever, and she’d wondered if she’d imagined it. She must have. This was Alessandro Costa, after all. The ruthless, arrogant CEO she was a little bit scared of. Not a man interested in her. Not her date.

It just felt as if he were. And, more alarmingly, she liked that feeling. She, who had steered clear of love and romance and even anything close to a flirtation, because she did not want someone to have that kind of power over her. Because her mother had fallen in love with her father all those years ago, and look how that had gone.

‘He loves me, Mia. Really. He just has trouble showing it.’

Mia had listened to far too many of her mother’s excuses before she’d died of cancer when Mia was fourteen, too broken and despairing to hold on any longer. Mia had had to wait four more years before she was finally free of her father’s sneering control. And since then she’d made it her life’s mission to stay strong, independent and alone. Safe.

But tonight she let her rules bend and even break. Tonight she let herself forget they existed. It was just a night, after all. Just one wonderful night where she could pretend, for a few hours, that she was a young woman with a gorgeous man, Cinderella with her prince before the clock inevitably struck midnight.

They’d ridden in a limousine to the Ritz, and Alessandro, devastating in black tie, his hair midnight-dark and his hard jaw freshly shaven, had barely said a word, which was fine by Mia because she could barely think. Dressed to the nines and even the tens in a gorgeous gown, on the arm of a beautiful man…going to the kind of party where she’d normally be holding doors or serving champagne…together, all of it, was utterly overwhelming. Intoxicating. Wonderful.

A valet had opened the door of the limousine as they’d pulled up to the front entrance of the hotel, and flashbulbs had popped and sparked as Mia had stepped out, blinking in the glare. She wasn’t used to the spotlight; she always stood to one side, watched it from afar. It felt very different to be the one basking in the bright light, especially when Alessandro had slid his arm through hers and smiled for the cameras, their heads nearly touching.

What was he doing? And why?

She still didn’t really understand the need for her presence at the ball. Yes, she knew Dillard’s clients, but she’d already given Alessandro all the relevant information in the files. And this was a charity event, not a business meeting. Surely he had someone else, a dozen ‘someone elses’, to accompany him to such a glittering occasion, a supermodel or socialite who would fit in more easily with all this well-heeled crowd? Mia didn’t know how to rub shoulders with these people; she was used to fetching them coffee. She was out of her depth, and she never felt it more so than when Alessandro approached a group of people, some of whom she knew, and introduced her as his ‘companion’.

Mia clocked the raised eyebrows, the curious smiles, the speculative looks, and like everyone else in the group she wondered what Alessandro Costa was playing at.

‘Why don’t you just tell people I’m your PA?’ she asked when they had a moment alone. She’d drunk two glasses of champagne in quick succession, more to have something to do than because of any desire to be drunk, but now her head was spinning, her tongue loosened.

‘Because tonight you are a beautiful woman who is accompanying me to a gala.’

‘But…’ She shook her head slowly, trying to discern the emotion behind his cool, mask-like exterior, his eyes like blank mirrors. The man gave absolutely nothing away. ‘Why?’

He shrugged his powerful shoulders, muscles rippling under the expensive material of his tuxedo. ‘Why not?’

‘You seem like a man who has a very clear reason for everything he does,’ Mia said slowly. ‘So your “why not?” doesn’t actually hold water with me.’

‘Oh?’ One dark slash of an eyebrow arched in cool amusement. ‘You surprise me with your perception, Miss James.’

‘If I’m your companion, perhaps you should call me Mia.’

Something flickered in his eyes, and Mia felt a shiver through her belly in response. She hadn’t meant to sound flirtatious, but she realised she might have…and she didn’t actually mind. ‘Very well,’ Alessandro said after a moment. ‘Mia.’ His voice, with his slight accent, seemed to caress the two syllables.

‘Where are you from?’ Mia asked. ‘It didn’t say when I looked online.’

His eyebrow arched higher. ‘You did a search on me?’

She shrugged. ‘After I heard you’d taken over the company, yes, of course. Information is power.’

‘True.’ His gaze held hers, his expression considering. ‘And is that what you want? Power?’

‘I want to keep my job,’ Mia said after a second’s pause. ‘And knowing my employer helps with that.’

‘Mia!’ A woman approached them in a flurry of cloying scent, kissing Mia on both cheeks while Alessandro stepped back discreetly. ‘Darling, how are you? I heard about poor Henry…’

Mia shot an alarmed look at Alessandro; his expression seemed dangerously neutral. ‘Diane,’ she said, after she’d returned the woman’s tight hug. ‘This is Alessandro Costa, the new CEO of Dillard Investments.’

‘New…oh.’ Diane Holley’s mouth dropped into a comical ‘o’ as she swivelled to face Alessandro, her eyes widening in shocked speculation.

‘Pleased to meet you…?’

‘Diane. Diane Holley.’ She took Alessandro’s outstretched hand, looking a bit dazed. As Diane shook his hand, Mia saw her expression change from surprise to admiration, her lowered gaze sweeping speculatively, and almost avariciously, over Alessandro Costa’s admittedly impressive form. ‘Very pleased to meet you too, of course…’ she murmured.

Mia felt a sharp tug of jealousy, a reaction which surprised and appalled her in equal measure. What on earth…? She had absolutely no reason to feel remotely jealous in any way. She didn’t care about Alessandro Costa. She didn’t even like the man. And jealousy was not an emotion she’d ever let herself entertain. It was so weak and needy. It was also dangerous.

And yet…she was wearing a beautiful dress, and he’d looked at her, for a brief second, with desire in his eyes, and for a single evening she’d felt like someone else entirely, someone transported into a fairy tale, from the shadows to the spotlight.

Perhaps one evening was too much, after all. The last thing she needed to do was lose her head, even for an evening, over Alessandro Costa. The man was too dangerous, and too much was at risk. Not just her job, but her very self. She couldn’t let Alessandro Costa affect her. Make her want. Make her weak. Not even for a moment.

Then he put another flute of champagne into her hand, and her fingers closed around the fragile crystal stem automatically. ‘You looked as if you were a million miles away,’ he murmured, his voice low and honeyed. ‘Don’t you like hearing about Diane Holley’s corgis?’

‘Corgis?’ Blinking, Mia realised Diane must have been chatting to Alessandro for a few minutes at least and she hadn’t taken in a word. The older woman, the wife of one of Dillard’s most important clients, had already moved on. ‘She told you about her corgis?’

‘I asked about them. You mentioned them this afternoon.’

‘Did I?’

Alessandro arched an eyebrow, looking more amused than annoyed—for once. ‘You really haven’t been paying attention, have you?’

‘Of course I have. I always do.’ She took a defiant sip of champagne. ‘Diane has four corgis, and one of them has digestive issues.’

‘She didn’t mention those tonight, thankfully.’

‘You were lucky, then.’ Mia’s breath came out in a surprised hiss as Alessandro took her elbow, his hand warm and dry and so very sure as he steered her towards another cluster of people. ‘Where…where are we going?’

‘To mingle, of course. That’s why we’re here. You’re going to introduce me to all these people, and then tell me their secrets.’

‘I thought I’d already done that this afternoon. Besides, I don’t know any secrets.’

‘I still need to put names to faces. And I think you know more secrets than you realise…always working behind the scenes, listening in the shadows.’

‘You make me sound like a snoop.’

‘No, someone who is smart.’ His gaze lingered on hers for a tantalising second as his hand had moved from her elbow to her waist, his fingers splayed across her hip. Heat flooded Mia’s body, and once again she was in danger of drifting along this lovely tide of feeling. ‘Mr Costa…’

‘You must call me Alessandro.’

‘You must stop acting like I’m your date.’ She knew she never would have said the words if she hadn’t had two glasses of champagne, and just chugged half of her third. If she wasn’t so afraid of how much he affected her.

‘Why? You are my date.’ He sounded utterly unruffled, like someone making a simple statement of fact.

‘No…’ Her breath came out in a rush. Her head spun. People were looking at them. Wondering. ‘I’m not. Not really…’

‘Yes, you are.’ They’d reached the group of people, and Alessandro kept his hand on her waist as he stretched out his other one. ‘Alessandro Costa, CEO of Dillard Investments.’ In turn, everyone shook his hand, with varying expressions of pleasure, speculation, or snobbery. It made Mia wonder yet again about Alessandro. What was he doing here, exactly? Why did he want her with him? Who was this man at her side? And how much did she want to know?

The chit-chat washed over her as she took in Alessandro’s easy, urbane manner. The man could be charming when he chose, a fact that alarmed her. If Alessandro Costa affected her when he was blunt and brusque, heaven help her when he was easy and affable.

She knew a few people in the group through Dillard’s, and somehow, her mind still spinning, she made chit-chat, introduced Alessandro to a few others, and stumbled through the evening, feeling as if she were acting a part in a play, desperate now to get to the end of the evening without embarrassing herself or losing her head entirely over the man at her side.

When they were alone again, and she was finishing her third glass of champagne, she rather recklessly asked him about it all.

‘I can make conversation, if that’s what you mean,’ he answered as he sipped his own champagne.

‘What do you want from these people?’ Mia asked, her tongue well and truly loosened by now. ‘Why did you buy Dillard Investments, really?’

A guarded look came over his face before he shrugged, the movement clearly meant to be dismissive. ‘Why do I buy any company?’

‘You tell me.’

The tiniest of pauses. ‘For financial gain.’

‘But you said yourself Dillard’s was operating at a loss.’

‘That doesn’t mean it always has to.’

‘Still…’ She shook her head slowly. ‘A man like you…’

‘A man like me?’ Alessandro’s voice sharpened. ‘What does that mean, exactly?’

‘Only that you must always have your eye on the bottom line.’

‘True.’ He eyed her thoughtfully. ‘So what did you learn about me, during that online cyberstalking session?’

Mia let out a choked laugh. ‘I was hardly stalking.’

‘Weren’t you?’

‘Gathering information. Big difference.’

‘Hmm.’ She felt dizzy with the turn in their conversation. It almost felt as if…as if they were flirting. But of course they couldn’t be. ‘So,’ Alessandro asked, stepping closer, ‘what did you learn about me, Mia?’

Alessandro hadn’t meant to ask the question. He surely didn’t mean to bother with the answer. He was curious despite his determination never to be curious about anyone. Curiosity implied caring, and he didn’t care. And yet… ‘Anything interesting?’ The words sounded provocative.

Mia licked her lips, her tongue looking very pink as she touched it to her full, lush lips, the instinctive movement causing a dart of desire to arrow through him, unsettling in its intensity. ‘Not really.’ Her gaze skittered away from his. ‘Not much.’

‘Tell me.’ His voice was low, the words a command, but with a thread of something dark and rich running through it, a promise he hadn’t meant to make. Mia turned to look at him, her eyes widening, looking very blue and clear. Eyes he could drown in if he let himself. He stepped closer. ‘Tell me,’ he said again.

‘Well…’ Again her tongue touched her lips. ‘You have a reputation for being ruthless. You take over companies, strip them of their assets, and fire about ninety percent of the staff before absorbing the company into Costa International.’

That was the gist without being entirely true, but Alessandro wasn’t about to defend his actions. They spoke for themselves.

‘Are you going to do that with Dillard’s?’ Her chin lifted a little. ‘Fire everyone? Get rid of it all?’

He eyed her for a moment, considering what to tell her. For some contrary reason he didn’t like the thought of her thinking badly of him, which was ridiculous, because he’d been thought of far worse by the furious CEOs he’d displaced.

‘I’m not going to fire everyone,’ he said at last. ‘I never do.’

‘Ninety percent, then.’

‘Your percentages are a bit off.’

‘Do you enjoy it?’ she asked, her voice choking. ‘Ruining people’s lives?’

He stared at her for a moment, fighting the urge to explain the truth of his mission. But, no. He was not going to justify himself to her. He was certainly not going to care about her opinion. ‘Does it seem as if I do?’ he asked, meaning to sound dismissive.

Slowly she shook her head. ‘You don’t actually seem cruel.’

‘No?’ He tried to keep his voice disinterested.

‘The media portrayed you as a bit of a cowboy…someone who came from nowhere and had a meteoric rise. Not entirely respectable, but not cruel.’

‘Well, they were wrong,’ Alessandro said lightly, even though her words were like razors on his skin. ‘I’m not at all respectable.’

‘Is that why you took Dillard’s over? To seem respectable?’

The question grated. As if he wanted to don Dillard’s shabby suit and call himself a gentleman. ‘Not at all. I don’t care one iota if I seem respectable or not.’

‘Then why bother with them? Where is the profit?’

‘In the clients I keep.’ Although Alessandro suspected there would be little profit indeed. Profit was not why he did what he did, at least not in regard to companies such as Dillard’s.

‘And what about all the employees? Innocent people…don’t you care about them?’

More than she would ever know. ‘You’re sounding like a crusader, Mia,’ he warned her. He did not wish to discuss this any longer. ‘It’s quite dull.’

Her eyes flashed. ‘So sorry I’m boring you, but people’s lives are at stake. Besides… I would have thought you might understand how they felt.’

He tensed, the perception in her eyes like a needle burrowing into his skin. ‘Oh?’

‘The media said you came from a poor background…the slums of Naples.’ He angled his head away from her, not trusting the expression on his face. ‘Is that true?’

‘Slums is such a pejorative word, but I suppose, in essence, yes.’ He did his best to sound bored. He was bored.

The last thing he wanted to talk about was his pathetic past…the endless chaos of moving from grotty flat to grotty flat, the stints in foster care when his mother had lost custody of him, the endless jobs she’d taken cleaning office buildings, the countless boyfriends she’d had in a desperate bid to assuage the despairing sadness of her life. A childhood he’d done his best always to remember, to remind him of how he would be different, even as he pretended to forget.

‘Then if you know what it’s like to be poor, to live from pay check to pay check, how can you fire people like that?’

‘Because I know what it’s like to work hard,’ he said in a steely voice, ‘and to earn what I have. And anyone who does those things will have a position with Costa International, that much I guarantee.’

Her eyes widened. ‘They will?’

She sounded so hopeful it made him cringe. ‘Dillard Investments was dying on the vine. I just plucked it before it fell, withered, to the ground. If anything, I’ve saved people’s jobs in the long run.’

‘Do you really mean that?’

Impatient now, he shrugged. ‘Henry Dillard was charming, I’ll grant you that, but he was a terrible businessman. I did his employees a favour.’ Why had he stooped to justifying himself? ‘I’m not the monster you seem to think I am,’ he finished levelly. ‘Regardless of what you read online.’

She stared at him for a moment, and he felt as if she were seeing right inside him, that blue, blue gaze burrowing deep down inside his soul, reaching places he’d closed off for good. He looked away, shrugging as he took a sip of champagne, struggling to master his wayward emotions.

‘No,’ she said softly. ‘I don’t think you are.’

‘You’ve changed your mind?’ He’d meant to sound offhand and failed.

‘I think you like to present yourself as someone hardened and ruthless,’ she said slowly. ‘It’s the right image for someone who specialises in corporate takeovers, isn’t it?’

‘I suppose.’ What else could he say? She saw too much already.

‘I wonder who you really are,’ she murmured. ‘I wonder what you’re hiding.’ Alessandro stared at her, unable to look away. He felt a tug low in his belly, pulling him towards her. She wanted to know him. It was beguiling, alarming. Nobody knew him, not like that.

‘Let’s dance,’ he said, his voice roughened with emotion. When they danced, they wouldn’t talk. She wouldn’t say things or see inside him. He would make sure of it.

Wordlessly Mia nodded, and after depositing their empty champagne flutes on a nearby table, Alessandro took her by the hand and led her to the ballroom’s parquet dance floor. The music was a slow, sensuous piece, the sonorous wail of a saxophone wrapping its lonely notes around them as Alessandro took her into his arms.

Her hips bumped his gently and heat flared white-hot, making his hands tense on hers before he deliberately relaxed his grip and began to move her around the floor.

She was elegant in his arms, matching the rhythm of his movements, her hips swaying, her body lithe. Lithe and eager. He felt her tremble and knew, like him, she felt this most inconvenient and heady desire, growing stronger with every second they swayed together. The realisation only stoked his own.

Sex, for him, had always been a matter of expediency, a physical need to be met like any other—food, water, sleep, sex. That was how he’d viewed it. Something to be ticked off, the same as he would with a physical workout or a medical examination.

This felt different. More. This desire, twining through him like some dangerous vine, felt capable of overwhelming him. Overtaking the rational thought, common sense and, far worse, the self-control that were the touchstones of his life, the anchors of his soul. And the most alarming part was, in this moment he didn’t even think he cared.

The pressures of overseeing the takeover, the twenty-hour work days and the ceaseless striving, for years now, decades…in this moment he sloughed it all off like an old skin, let it slither about him in dead, dried peels, as desire birthed him anew.

The song ended and another started, and still they kept dancing. He pulled her closer, so her body nestled into his. She came willingly, twining her arms around his neck, her breasts brushing his chest. Her head was slightly bowed, so he could see the delicate, vulnerable curve of her neck and he had the nearly irresistible urge to press his lips there, against the skin he knew would be warm and soft and silky.

They twirled around again, and she shifted in his arms, the material of her dress rustling and sliding, pulling taut across her breasts, revealing the pure line of her collarbone. He could press his lips there too.

He could do it, and in the haze of his desire, as well as his exhaustion and the champagne he had drunk, he couldn’t remember a single reason not to.

The music swelled and the world around him fell away. There was nothing but this. Her. They turned again, her dress flaring out from her ankles, brushing his legs.

Some last, desperate part of him tried to claw back his sanity, his sense. This was a bad idea. A terrible, terrible idea. Mia James worked for him, and he never mixed business with pleasure. Ever. It was far too dangerous. The last thing he needed was a woman at work laying claim to any part of him, or, heaven forbid, accusing him of something.

But there was nothing accusatory in the way Mia was melting into him, her body pliant and willing in his arms. Then she lifted her head, tilting her face upwards, her gaze clashing and then tangling with his.

It felt as if they shared an entire conversation in that silent gaze, a shared yearning and a deeper need, a question and an answer, all encapsulated in a single, burning glance.

Neither of them said a word, but Alessandro felt a shudder run through her as he held her in his arms. The last part of his sanity trickled away. He didn’t care.

He didn’t care.

‘Let’s go,’ he said, his voice rough with need.

‘Where?’ Even with her in his arms, he strained to hear her breathy whisper.

‘Anywhere.’

Her eyes widened, her lips parting. She swallowed, and he waited for her answer, the one she’d already given in the silent yearning of her gaze. The song ended, and their bodies stilled. Still Alessandro waited, his breath held, his body taut.

Then wordlessly, her eyes wide, Mia nodded.

Alessandro didn’t wait for more. Taking her by the hand, he led her from the dance floor and out of the ballroom, out of the hotel, into the warm spring night.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE COOL NIGHT air felt like a slap on her face as Mia left the hotel, Alessandro clasping her hand tightly. It felt like an urgent and much-needed wake-up call.

What on earth was she doing?

What madness had possessed her up there in the ballroom, with the music and the champagne and the slow sway of Alessandro’s body in rhythm with hers?

A limousine pulled up to the kerb; Alessandro must have texted his driver while she’d been in this heady daze of desire, a fog that had wrapped her up in its sensuous, blinding warmth, making her immune to everything, including her own common sense. Wordlessly he opened the door and ushered her into the sumptuous leather interior.

Mia slid to the far side of the limo, shivering slightly in the still cool air, despite the sudden blast of warmth from the heater. Now that she was no longer in Alessandro’s arms, in that strange, suspended, otherworldly reality…she realised there was no way she could go anywhere or do anything with Alessandro Costa. No matter how she felt. No matter what she’d wanted.

Already she cursed herself for having danced with him at all, swaying in his arms, moving closer, falling under his sensual spell.

What had she been thinking? He was her boss, and not a particularly pleasant boss at that, even if she now questioned whether he was as ruthless as he’d been rumoured to be.

Even so, getting involved with him in any capacity would be a serious, serious mistake, and one she had never intended on making with anyone. She sneaked a glance at his harsh profile, wondering what he was thinking, now that they were away from the ball, the music and champagne. Was he having second thoughts as she was? Regrets?

‘Where…?’ Her voice came out scratchy and she licked her lips. ‘Where are we going?’

‘Back to the office.’ Alessandro spoke tersely, and when he turned to her there was something hard and resolute in his face, and his eyes looked dark and flat. Looking at him, taking in that unyielding expression, Mia felt chilled. Clearly he was having second thoughts as well, a thought that should bring sweet, sweet relief, but instead she felt disappointed.

Stupid, stupid.

They rode in silence to the Dillard building in Mayfair, the night a blur of dark sky and city lights all around them. The air in the back of the limo felt taut with tension, and Mia let out a quiet sigh of relief when the limo finally pulled up in front of the office.

‘I need to get my things,’ she murmured. She’d left her work clothes, coat, and handbag at the office, an oversight she hadn’t even considered when she’d been dazzled by being the belle of the ball. The party was well and truly over now, the clock striking midnight, everything turning back to the way it was. There seemed to be no question of their going anywhere together, as Alessandro had hinted at the ball. All Mia wanted to do was go home.

‘I need to get my things as well,’ Alessandro replied. ‘I’ll let you go up, and the limo can drive you home.’

‘There’s no need…’ Mia began half-heartedly, feeling she should take the tube as a matter of principle, and after giving her a hard look, Alessandro shrugged, supremely indifferent.

‘As you like.’

He swiped his key card and ushered her inside the building, everything now cloaked in darkness and quiet. Mia had been in the office late at night before, when she’d had to work longer hours for one reason or another, but it felt different now, with Alessandro walking right behind her, and gooseflesh rippling over her skin at the knowledge of him being so close.

The lift had never felt so small or suffocating as they rode up in a silence taut not with expectation but the sudden, unsettling lack of it. Then the doors swished open and they stepped onto the top floor of the building, where Henry’s office was located. Mia walked through the dim open-plan space, lit only by the streetlights outside, thankful that this ordeal was almost over.

She’d come so close to losing her mind and heaven knew what else over this man. She could consider herself lucky, she told herself, even if she didn’t feel all that lucky right then.

‘I left my things in Henry’s—I mean your—office,’ she said, and Alessandro merely nodded as he opened the door and ushered her through. He flicked on a table lamp, bathing the room in warm light, while Mia hurriedly hunted for her bag and discarded clothes. She hesitated, knowing she didn’t want to brave the tube home at ten o’clock at night in a floor-length evening gown.

‘Do you mind if I change…?’

Another hard, fathomless look, another shrug. ‘As you like.’ He left the office, and Mia let out another sigh of relief and pent-up tension as the door closed behind him. Her head still felt fuzzy from the champagne, even though the main part of her was stone-cold sober, longing only to be curled up in her bed with a comforting mug of hot chocolate, this whole evening behind her.

Her fingers fumbled as she unclasped the diamond necklace that now felt heavy and cold around her neck. Carefully she replaced it in the black velvet box the stylist had brandished so proudly just a few short hours ago. It felt like another lifetime. Had she really danced with Alessandro? Flirted with him? Felt she had a connection with him, that something important and intimate had pulsed between them when she’d told him she didn’t know who he was? And then she’d twined her arms around his neck and told him she’d go anywhere with him. She’d even believed it.

Her breath came out in a shuddery rush as she acknowledged the folly of her actions. She had done all those things and more, and all she could do now was thank heaven that it hadn’t gone any further, and that Alessandro at least seemed to have had the same second thoughts she had.

The best-case scenario now was that they would both pretend to forget everything that had—and hadn’t—happened. And really, she told herself, it wasn’t as if they’d actually done anything. They hadn’t even kissed.

But she’d wanted to…

Forcing those pointless, treacherous thoughts away, Mia took off the diamond earrings and put them back as well. Then her heels, silver diamanté-decorated stilettos, and her sheer tights, bundling up the tights and putting the shoes back in the box. Now the dress.

She reached behind her to unzip the dress, her fingertips brushing the top of the zipper but unable to pull it down. Mia groaned under her breath, nearly wrenching her arm out of its socket as she tried again, desperately, to unzip her gown. No luck. She couldn’t do it on her own. And she couldn’t go on the tube in this. She was going to have to ask Alessandro to help her, a prospect that filled her with dread as well as a tiny, treacherous flicker of excitement she chose to ignore.

Alessandro rapped sharply on the door. ‘Are you nearly ready?’

‘Yes.’ Her voice wavered and she took a deep breath before going to the door and opening it. Alessandro stood there, frowning at the sight of her.

‘You haven’t changed.’ He sounded disapproving.

‘I know. I can’t manage the zip of the dress.’ She met his gaze even though it took effort. ‘Do you mind helping me?’

‘With the zip?’

Why did he sound so surprised, so scandalised? ‘Yes,’ Mia answered, and then, pointlessly, ‘I’m sorry.’

Wordlessly Alessandro nodded and stepped into the room. Mia took another deep breath as she silently turned around, showing him the zip that ran from the nape of her neck to the small of her back.

Moonlight poured through the windows, bathing everything in silver, as for a hushed moment neither of them moved. A tendril of hair had fallen from her chignon and Alessandro moved it from her neck, making her shudder.

She hadn’t meant to, heaven knew, she hadn’t, but the response rippled through her all the same, visceral and consuming, and more importantly audible.

What was it about this man that made her respond this way? She never had before, not even close. Her romantic and sexual experience was basically nil, and that by her choice. Perhaps that was why she was reacting the way she was now, because she had nothing to compare it to.

And yet Mia knew it wasn’t that. It was the man. The man whose sandalwood aftershave she breathed in, making her senses reel. The man who was now tugging the zipper down her back, slowly, so achingly slowly, inch by tempting, traitorous, lovely inch. Tug. Tug. Mia held her breath as Alessandro’s breath fanned her neck, and then her bare back as the dress began to fall away, leaving her skin exposed.

The air was cool on her bared back, but Alessandro’s breath was warm. Mia tensed, trying to keep herself from shuddering again, but she failed, a ripple of longing trembling over her skin and right through her. She knew Alessandro saw and heard it, felt it even.

And she felt his response in the sudden stilling of his fingers on the small of her back, the zip almost all the way undone. Still he didn’t move, and Mia didn’t either.

The world felt stilled, suspended; everything a hushed, held breath as they both remained where they were, waiting. Mia knew she should step away, just as she knew she wouldn’t. Couldn’t. In fact, she did the opposite, her body betraying her as she swayed slightly towards him.

Slowly, so slowly, Alessandro leaned forward. His breath fanned Mia’s already heated skin as his lips brushed against the knob of her spine and he pressed a lingering kiss to the nape of her neck.

He hadn’t meant to do it. Of course he hadn’t. Alessandro didn’t know what madness had claimed him as he leaned forward and kissed the back of Mia’s neck. Everything about the moment felt exquisitely sensual, as if a honeyed drug was stealing through his veins, obliterating all rational thought, everything but this. Her.

And he didn’t even care.

He felt Mia’s instant and overwhelming response, her body shuddering again under his touch, and he moved his lips lower, kissing each knob of her spine in turn, letting his lips linger on her silky skin.

The moonlight turned her ivory skin to lambent silver; she was pale, a perfect goddess, like an ancient marble statue, the paragon of classical beauty. He continued to kiss his way down her spine, feeling Mia tremble beneath his feather-light touch. Then he reached the base of her spine and he fell to his knees, anchoring her hips with his hands, as he kissed the small of her back, a place he hadn’t even considered sensual or enflaming until this moment, when it was, utterly.

‘Alessandro…’ The name was drawn from her lips in a desperate plea as the unzipped gown slid from her hips and pooled around her feet, leaving her completely bare. She started to turn and Alessandro rose, pulling her into his arms as his mouth came down hard and hungry and demanding on hers. She responded to the kiss with a frenzied passion of her own as they stumbled backward together, lips locked, hands roving greedily, until they hit Henry Dillard’s desk.

Alessandro hoisted her on top of it, stepping between her thighs, as he deepened the kiss. He couldn’t get enough of her. He didn’t want to. All he wanted was more—more of this, and more of her.

He broke the kiss only to kiss her elsewhere, wanting to claim all her body for his own—her small, high breasts, her tiny waist, her endless legs. Mia’s head fell back, her breath coming in desperate pants, as Alessandro explored every inch of her and still felt as if he hadn’t had enough, a thirst and craving welling up inside him that could never be slaked.

He ran his hand from the delicate bones of her ankle up her calf, along her inner thigh, before his fingers found the heart of her and she tensed under his touch, her breath hitching as he deftly stroked her.

‘Alessandro…’ Another plea, and one he answered with his sure caress.

But even that wasn’t enough; it wasn’t enough when she surrendered entirely to his touch, her voice a broken, shuddering cry. He needed to possess her fully, to make her his own.

Still, one last shred of sanity made him hesitate. ‘Mia, are you sure…?’ His voice was low, ragged, but certain. He had to know that she wanted this as much as he did.

Her eyes fluttered open, the look in them both dazed and sated as she nodded, her pulse hammering in her throat. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Yes.’

Alessandro needed no further encouragement. He spread her thighs wider as he fumbled with his own clothes. Then seconds, but what felt like an eternity, later he thrust inside her, groaning with the pleasure of it.

Mia let out a startled gasp and Alessandro stilled, shock drenching him in icy waves. ‘Mia…’ He could barely believe what had just happened. ‘Mia, are you…’ he could barely manage to say the words ‘…a virgin?’

She let out a choked laugh, her fingernails digging into his shoulders as she anchored him in place. ‘I was.’

Alessandro swore. ‘You…’ He bit off what he’d been going to say.

You should have told me. I should have known. I never would have…

He’d asked, after all. He’d asked her if she was sure. Now, his body aching and still thundering with need, he started to withdraw.

‘No. Don’t.’ Mia clutched his shoulders as she wriggled into position underneath him. ‘I’m all right.’ She shifted again, her body opening beneath him, inviting him in further, and as Alessandro felt her welcoming warmth he knew he was a lost man. He started to move, and Mia gave a breathy sigh of pleasure as she started to match his rhythm.

The regret and uncertainty he’d felt fell away like a mist as they moved together, climbing higher and higher, until they both reached that dazzling apex, and Alessandro let out a shudder of sated pleasure as he pulled her even closer to him, her body wrapping around and enfolding his. He could feel her heart thudding against his own, and he knew he’d never been as close to another person as this.

Seconds ticked by and neither of them spoke or moved. Alessandro had the strange and unsettling feeling that he didn’t want to move; he didn’t want this to end. He had never, ever felt that way before after being with a woman.

Yet of course he had to, and so did Mia, and after another few soul-shaking seconds she started to pull away. Alessandro let her go, tidying himself up as Mia eased off the desk. Her head was bent, her face averted as she walked quickly to her clothes and pulled them on. Alessandro saw that her fingers trembled as she buttoned the now crumpled white blouse he’d admired earlier that day, in what felt like a lifetime ago.

Alessandro knew he should say something, but he had no idea what. Now that the haze of incredible pleasure was no longer clouding his mind, he was realising what an enormous, idiotic mistake he’d just made. Mia James was his PA, and he’d had her on his desk like a…like a…

No. He could barely believe this had happened. This never happened to him, because he never let it. He was too self-controlled, too contained, too certain of what he wanted, to let something as stupid as desire cloud his mind and guide his actions, even for a few seconds.

And yet that was precisely what had just happened. He could scarcely credit it, and yet it had. It had.

Mia had finished dressing and she stood there, her handbag clutched to her chest, her hair in tangles about her pale face, her eyes wide and dazed.

‘I should go.’ Her voice was a whisper, and guilty regret lashed him like a whip, which made him, unreasonably he knew, feel angry.

‘You should have told me you were a virgin.’

Her already wide eyes widened even further, looking huge in her face. ‘Would it have mattered?’

‘Yes. I’m not accustomed to…’ Alessandro gestured to the desk, unwilling to put it into words, furious with himself as well as with Mia. What had she been thinking? What had he?

‘Well, obviously neither am I.’ Her voice was grim, humourless. ‘Let’s just say the moment got the better of us, and move past it, shall we?’

He stared at her, surprised and a little discomfited that she was offering so pragmatic an approach, and the one he would have suggested but now oddly resented. Minutes before they’d been twined around each other like…but, no. He wasn’t going to think about that. Mia was right. They needed to move past this—immediately.

‘Yes.’ His voice was tight. ‘Yes, that is exactly what we shall do.’

Mia nodded, still looking grim, and Alessandro felt the need to gain control of the situation; somehow it had slipped entirely out of his hands, and he needed to come to grips with it. He needed to remind himself what kind of man he was, and it most certainly wasn’t one who unzipped a woman’s dress and then ended up having her over a desk in a darkened office.

Those were the actions of a man who had no self-control, no common sense, no sense of containment. They were the actions of a man who allowed lust or any other unruly emotion to control him, and that was not who he was. It couldn’t be.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked stiffly. ‘You’re not…?’ The question nearly brought a blush to his face. He’d never slept with a virgin before. ‘You’re not hurt?’

‘I’m fine,’ Mia said flatly. She reached for her coat and shoved her arms in. ‘I just need to go home.’ She made to leave and Alessandro stayed her with one hand; she flinched under his touch, which both shamed and hurt him.

‘Mia, please. Don’t leave like this.’

Her eyebrows rose. ‘How am I supposed to leave?’

Alessandro didn’t know how to answer, couldn’t even determine what he wanted. For this never to have happened, he supposed, but there was nothing he could do about that. ‘Take the limo,’ he said at last. ‘It will be safer and quicker.’ She stared at him for a moment, her face like a mask, and Alessandro realised how little he was offering. A lift. But he didn’t know what else he could give her.

‘Fine,’ she said, and then she shook off his arm and walked out through the door.

CHAPTER FIVE

MIA WOKE UP to bright, wintry sunlight streaming through the window of her bedroom, her head fuzzy and full of cotton wool from the three glasses of champagne she’d had the night before, her body aching in all sorts of unexpected places.

For a single second she simply lay there, enjoying the sunshine, and then memory slammed into her, again and again, as the events of the last evening played in her mind in an unwelcome and humiliating reel.

What had she been thinking? During the half-hour ride in Alessandro’s limo the night before, she’d been too dazed to truly consider what had happened or its potential consequences, and so she’d simply blanked her mind, stripping off her clothes and falling into bed as soon as she’d returned home, surrendering to the welcome numbness of sleep, except it hadn’t claimed her.

She’d tucked her knees up to her chest and scrunched her eyes shut tight, trying to block out the memories that insisted on coming anyway, relentless and so awful. So embarrassing, so full of shame and regret, as well as pleasure and wonder.

She could hardly believe that she’d been so heedless, welcoming Alessandro’s kiss, begging him to touch her…and losing her virginity on Henry Dillard’s desk. How could she have let that happen? How could she have let herself be so shameless, so weak? What if this ruined everything?

Now, in the cold light of morning, she let out a choked sound, something between a sob and a horrified laugh, as she considered what she’d done.

Of course, it had been amazing. There was no denying or hiding from that stark truth. She’d been transported to a world of pleasure she’d never even known existed, and yet, despite that, she hated how in thrall she’d been to her own body, as well as to Alessandro’s touch.

He had a hold over her that she both resented and feared, and the result was she’d lost something precious, something that had been hers, in the blazing heat of a single moment…and to a man who most likely didn’t like her and intended to fire her in the foreseeable future.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Stupid and shameful and wrong.

Slowly, still aching, Mia rolled out of bed and headed for the shower, more than ready to wash away the scent of Alessandro from her skin. She turned the water up to as hot as she could stand and let it beat down on her until her skin turned pink and then red.

She knew she needed to get out, get dressed for work, get going. She needed to face Alessandro, even if she dreaded it with every cell of her being. Judging from his reaction last night, he regretted their encounter as much as she did, something which was both a relief and an insult. Still, it was better for them to do their best to move past it, and pretend it had never happened…if they could.

Mia felt as if the memory of Alessandro, the strength of his body, the sureness of his touch, was emblazoned on her brain, branded into her skin. It was going to take a huge act of will even to pretend to forget it. Him. And yet she had to. The alternative was inconceivable.

Quickly Mia stepped out of the shower and dressed in a crisp skirt suit of navy blue with a pale grey blouse. She put her hair in a tight bun, determined to look every inch the efficient PA and not the kind of woman who had sex late at night in an empty office. Because she wasn’t that person. At all.

Since she was eighteen, Mia had been focused on one thing—finding her freedom and forging a career that would give her independence and security. She’d seen how her mother had been miserably beholden to her father throughout their entire marriage, before the release of her death; she’d lived through the awful ups and downs, her father’s sudden, inexplicable rages, his emotional blackmail and silent disapproval, his moods and tempers dictating the unhappy tone of their fractured home, and all the while her mother too scared and unsupported to leave.

Diana James had insisted she loved her husband, even when he’d never shown a reason to deserve that love. Mia had been desperate to escape it herself, as soon as she could. And she had vowed she would never lose her control because of a man—any man—the way her mother had. Yet last night, if just for a few moments, she had lost control, willingly, joyfully…and she was horrified by it.

Resolutely Mia gazed at her pale reflection in the mirror, determined to put last night behind her completely. Hopefully Alessandro would do the same, and she would return to being the useful PA he required…and nothing more.

The office seemed quiet as Mia headed up in the lift, everyone working quietly with their heads down, seeming apprehensive. Alessandro hadn’t started firing people yet, and perhaps if what he’d implied last night was true, he wouldn’t.

But who was the real man? The lover who had shown her a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, or the ruthless tycoon everyone said he was? Who did she want to believe in—and did it matter anyway?

At her desk, Mia let out a little sigh of relief as she looked around and didn’t see Alessandro anywhere. In an ideal world, she wouldn’t see him all day. She could organise the files he’d requested yesterday, and update her CV, just in case. After that, she’d just have to pretend to look busy until Alessandro issued some directives.

As it happened, Mia had barely sat down and clicked on her computer mouse before the lift doors opened and Alessandro strode onto the floor, emanating power and authority in a navy blue suit, looking freshly showered and shaven, reminding Mia of how he’d smelled. Felt.

She tensed where she sat, memories assaulting her senses, and then his steel-grey gaze clashed with hers before he nodded towards the office doors.

‘Miss James…?’

Wordlessly Mia rose on rubbery legs and followed him into the office. Her heart was thudding unpleasantly as she closed the door behind her, trying to avoid looking at the desk. Last night when he’d hoisted her up on it, she remembered papers falling, the phone skittering across the polished surface with a clatter. Now, at least, everything had been neatly replaced and there was no way to tell or even guess what had happened there last night.

But Mia remembered. As much as she was trying to forget, she remembered… Alessandro’s hands on her hips, her mouth pressed against his shoulder. The way she’d cried out…

Resolutely she looked away from the desk and fixed her gaze on an innocuous spot on the wall. She wasn’t ready to look at Alessandro’s face and see what expression resided there, derision, desire, or just remembrance. She couldn’t handle any of it.

Alessandro cleared his throat. ‘Last night…’ he began, and then stopped.

Mia reluctantly forced herself to look at him, even though everything in her resisted. His face was bland and closed. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but she shivered just from the coolness in his eyes.

Last night. The two words did not bode well.

Somehow she forced herself to speak, even though her lips were dry, her voice a papery thread. ‘Last night didn’t happen.’

‘While I’d like to agree with you, I can’t.’ Alessandro met her gaze unflinchingly. ‘We didn’t use birth control.’

Shock jolted through Mia at the stark realisation but she kept her gaze and voice steady as she answered. ‘I’m on the pill.’

Alessandro raised his eyebrows, seeming sceptical. ‘You are? Even though you were a—?’

‘Yes.’ She cut him off. ‘It was to regulate my periods, if you must know.’ Except she had, in the welter of her own emotions, forgotten to taken it that morning. And now that she thought about it, with the news of the takeover, she hadn’t taken one yesterday either. It had hardly seemed important, considering her lack of a sex life, and yet now…

Mia swallowed hard. Surely skipping just two didn’t matter so much? She’d take one later today, in any case. The amount of risk wasn’t worth telling Alessandro about. She could not possibly handle his reaction to a potential pregnancy right now. She couldn’t get her head around it herself.

‘Fine,’ Alessandro said. ‘It’s good to know a pregnancy will not be a concern.’

A pregnancy.

No, she really could not handle thinking about that now. And it was surely so very unlikely. ‘No, it is not a concern,’ she managed.

‘And you do not need to worry about any possible disease,’ Alessandro continued steadily, starkly. Something else Mia hadn’t even considered, not remotely, although if she’d been thinking straight, she surely would have.

‘That’s good to know. Thank you.’

They stared at each other, the tension in the room ratcheting up with every second until it felt unbearable. ‘Then there’s nothing more to say,’ Mia said finally, desperate to have this over, to move beyond this moment, and more importantly, beyond last night’s moment. ‘So, as far as both of us are concerned, last night didn’t happen. We can move on as if it didn’t. We need to, for the sake of…everything.’ She drew herself up, determined to do just that. ‘Is there anything you need from me today?’

Alessandro stared at her for a long, hard moment, a muscle ticking in his jaw. ‘I’m going to write a letter to all of Dillard’s clients,’ he said at last. ‘You can take it down and then show me a draft copy.’

Mia’s heart tumbled in her chest as she felt a weird mix of relief and disappointment that she didn’t want to understand. Alessandro was doing what she wanted…trying to act normal. ‘Very good,’ she said, and turned from the room to get her laptop.

A few minutes later Alessandro was sitting behind his desk and Mia was in front of it, the laptop opened on her knees, her fingers poised on the keyboard, as professional a look as she could manage on her face. This was going to work. She was going to make this work.

She was not going to think about how Alessandro had felt or smelled or tasted, how she’d come apart in his arms and was still desperately trying to put herself together. She wasn’t. She absolutely wasn’t.

And yet the memories still bombarded her as Alessandro began dictating the letter. It took all her mental power, all her energy and willpower, to focus on the words forming on the screen in front of her instead of what had happened between them last night.

It will get better, Mia told herself. The memory will fade.

This was going to work.

This wasn’t working.

Alessandro couldn’t keep from the glaringly obvious fact as he dictated his letter to Mia. Twice he had to start over, correcting himself, because he was hopelessly distracted by the sight of her, looking as prim and proper as you please, yet still, amazingly, seeming sexy to him.

That tight topknot made him long to pluck the pins from it and run his fingers through the spill of straight, wheat-gold hair. The crisp grey blouse with the mother-of-pearl buttons seemed to be begging to be undone, button by tiny button. The crisp navy suit would look far better crumpled on the floor.

‘Mr Costa?’ Her voice, crisp and precise, broke into his scattered thoughts. ‘You were saying…?’

‘I think, considering the circumstances, you should call me Alessandro.’

Something sparked in her eyes. ‘I do not wish to consider the circumstances, and I didn’t think you did, either.’

‘I meant,’ Alessandro clarified, ‘as your employer.’ But he hadn’t been thinking of her as his employee. Not at all.

A faint pink touched Mia’s cheeks, making her look all the more delectable. Making him want her all the more. ‘Of course,’ she murmured, and turned towards back to her laptop, her gaze focused determinedly on the screen.

Alessandro went back to dictating the letter, but again he lost his train of thought, which infuriated him. This was not who he was. This was not who he could be.

‘Mr… Alessandro?’ Mia prompted. Again. Her eyebrows were raised, her eyes so very blue.

‘Type up what you have,’ Alessandro said abruptly. ‘And I’ll look at it then. Thank you.’

Wordlessly Mia nodded, rising from her seat in one elegantly fluid movement. Alessandro couldn’t keep from watching her as she left the room, noting her long, slim legs in sheer tights, the low navy pumps. As far as he was concerned, she could have been wearing a negligee and stiletto heels. Her staid, puritanical outfit still enflamed him, and that was most definitely a problem.

The door clicked shut softly behind her, and Alessandro swivelled in his chair, too restless to get back to his work, although he certainly had plenty to do. He needed to weed through Dillard’s clients and decided which ones were worth keeping. He needed to woo the clients he wanted to stay on and make sure that they did. And he needed to find positions for the employees he intended on keeping, and offer redundancy packages to the ones he didn’t.

Which made him think of Mia. He’d intended on keeping her in the office for at least another week, to help smooth the transition period, but that thought felt like torture now. He could at least check on the details for her eventual transfer, to make sure it happened as easily and quickly as possible.

He was always generous with his offers, and so he would be with Mia. It made the most sense. It filled him with relief, that he could be proactive about arranging her inevitable transfer. All it would take were a few phone calls.

Alessandro felt his shoulders loosen at the thought of being free of this alarming obsession he’d developed—and over someone so unprepossessing. He’d been with women, many women, who were far more attractive and alluring than Mia James, with her straight hair and English schoolgirl looks. What was it about her that affected him so much, drove him to such irritating distraction?

It didn’t matter. His involvement with Mia James was thankfully going to come to an end. He was just reaching for the phone to make the first call when a knock sounded on the door.

‘Yes?’ he barked.

‘It’s Miss… Mia. May I speak to you?’

After a second’s hesitation he put the phone down. ‘Come in.’

She slipped into the office, her blue eyes looking crystal-bright as she met his gaze, a hint of determined challenge to the tilt of her chin.

‘I wanted to speak to you.’

‘About?’

She angled her chin a bit higher. ‘I’d like to request a transfer.’

Shock rooted him to the spot, the phone dangling from his hand. ‘A what?’

‘A transfer. I don’t think it is prudent for us to work together. You mentioned that you found positions for your employees when possible, so I’m asking for you to find me one.’ Her eyes blazed as they met his. ‘Somewhere preferably not in London.’

She wanted to be shot of him, Alessandro realised dazedly. Just as he wanted to be shot of her…so why did the thought rankle so much?

‘Where is this coming from?’ he asked, even though he knew. Of course he knew.

‘Where do you think?’ she returned sharply. ‘You mentioned my usefulness as your PA would only be for so long.’

‘But it’s not finished yet,’ he returned, surprised and a bit alarmed by his own annoyance. He’d been planning this very thing, and yet absurdly he resented her suggesting it first.

‘I think it is finished,’ Mia answered levelly, her tone brooking no disagreement. And, despite the instinctive, gut-level reaction that he had to argue with her, even to insist that she stay, Alessandro held his tongue. Mia wanted what he wanted. Surely he wasn’t so pig-headed as to resist simply because it was now her idea rather than his?

‘There are two possibilities, actually,’ he said after a moment. ‘I was looking into them myself, for this very eventuality.’

‘I’m sure you were,’ Mia returned dryly and Alessandro had the uncomfortable feeling she’d known what he’d been thinking, and had simply pre-empted him. ‘The first is as personal assistant to the CEO of the Arras Hotel Group, based in Los Angeles,’ he said. ‘It’s a property company I acquired two years ago, running luxury hotels on America’s west coast.’

‘Los Angeles…’ She nodded slowly. ‘And the other?’

‘Personal assistant to the CEO of a tech company in Sweden. Or, if you prefer, you can take the standard redundancy package. You’ll find I’m very generous.’

‘I’m sure.’

‘I’ll get you the details of both positions.’ He leaned down to his laptop, and a few clicks later he’d printed it all out and handed Mia the pages.

She took them calmly, scanning them with a cool composure that somehow rattled him.

‘Both positions come with accommodation provided, and the salary is fifty percent higher than yours was here,’ he felt compelled to point out.

‘And I can start immediately?’

She couldn’t wait to leave, could she? ‘If you like. Of course, you can have some time to pack up and arrange your travel. All paid for, naturally.’

‘Naturally.’ She glanced at the paper again. ‘I choose Los Angeles,’ she said firmly, although underneath that conviction he heard a tremble to her voice that unnerved him. He almost told her that she didn’t need to do this, but of course she did. If not now, then next week, or the week after that. Better for her to feel it was on her terms.

‘I’m sure you’ll be very happy there,’ he said as equably as he could manage. ‘Good luck with your move.’

She stared at him for a moment, her lips twisting and then tightening. ‘I’ll clear my desk, then,’ she said, which made it sound as if she’d been fired.

‘You don’t have to do—’ Alessandro began, and she gave him a piercing look.

‘I think it’s better this way, don’t you?’

Yes, he did. Of course he did. Even if he didn’t feel like it just then. ‘Enjoy LA,’ he said stiffly, and she gave him one last accusing look before she nodded and walked out of the room.

CHAPTER SIX

THREE WEEKS AFTER she’d left Alessandro Costa, Dillard Investments, and her home country, Mia came home from work, unlocking the door to her sumptuous apartment in Santa Monica, one of Los Angeles’ best neighbourhoods, with a tired sigh as she kicked off her heels.

Choosing to transfer workplaces had been the only way she’d known how to salvage what was left of her pride as well as her working life. She hadn’t been able to stand working with Alessandro, and in any case she’d sensed that he would have her transferred or even fired if she’d waited long enough; she was no longer useful in the way he required. In fact, she’d become rather inconvenient. Choosing it herself first had felt like the best way to take control.

Since she’d left she’d heard through the grapevine that at least half of Dillard’s employees had been made redundant with packages as generous as hers; the other half had been offered positions within Alessandro’s portfolio of companies. He wasn’t the ruthless tycoon she’d thought he was, at least not in that regard.

It was just in his personal relationships where he was truly ruthless. Because no matter how elegant her apartment, how cushy her job, Mia couldn’t escape the feeling that Alessandro had wanted her gone, more even than she’d wanted to go. She hadn’t seen him since the day she’d walked out of her office, which was how she’d wanted it—and how Alessandro had seemed to want it, as well.

Sighing, she changed out of her work clothes into more comfy ones, anticipating another evening in front of the TV. She’d been invited out for drinks with some of her colleagues, but for the last few days Mia had been feeling a bit off, tired and nauseous. She hoped she wasn’t coming down with the stomach flu, and decided that a good night’s sleep, not to mention a healthy dose of Netflix, would knock whatever she was fighting off on its head.

The next morning she woke up with her stomach roiling, and she barely made it to the toilet in time before it emptied its contents. She called in sick, although by the afternoon she was feeling better again. When the same thing happened the next day, and then the next day after that, realisation sliced through her, as sharp as a knife, and just as shockingly painful, even though she’d known all along it had been an admittedly small risk.

She hadn’t had a period since she’d come to Los Angeles. Sick in the mornings, better in the afternoons, and so, so tired. She might have been a virgin, but she wasn’t completely naïve.

She’d missed two birth control pills, and even though she’d taken one later that day, Mia had read online that she’d opened herself up to a small risk of becoming pregnant. And a small risk was still a risk.

Yet even so, she had trouble believing it.

One night. Two pills. Surely not…

Her heart turned over, an unpleasant sensation, as realisation trickled icily through her.

She couldn’t be…

After work that day she went to the nearest pharmacy to buy a pregnancy test, flushing in embarrassment as she paid for it, even though the pimply-faced teenaged boy ringing up her purchase looked completely bored and indifferent.

She took it home, unwrapping it with shaking fingers, staring at the slim white stick in disbelief that she was holding such a thing, needing it.

She couldn’t be…

She read the directions twice through, still in a haze of incredulity, and then she took the test, all the while telling herself this was crazy, impossible, nothing more than a needless precaution. The chances of falling pregnant after one time, and just two missed pills…

But she wasn’t stupid. She knew it could happen. She just couldn’t believe it could happen to her.

And then she turned the test over and stared down at the two blazing pink lines in disbelief.

She couldn’t be, but she was.

She spent an hour simply sitting on her sofa, staring into space, having no idea what to think, much less to do. Her mind felt fogged with incredulity, unable to think beyond the reality of those two lines. She couldn’t yet consider what they meant or would mean, or how she would respond to them.

Then, at some point, she roused herself from her stupor and made herself a cup of tea. Pregnant. She was pregnant. By Alessandro Costa, a man she barely knew and definitely didn’t like, a man known to be ruthless in both personal relationships and the business world. And he was going to be the father of her child.

Realisation slammed into her with that thought; this was her child. The family she’d never truly had. And she knew, no matter how inconvenient or unexpected, she was going to keep this baby, this child of her flesh and blood.

And Alessandro’s.

Armed with a cup of milky tea, Mia flipped open her laptop and did another internet search on Alessandro. She had deliberately not searched anything personal about him before. She hadn’t wanted to know, or to wonder.

Now she blinked as image after image came up on the screen of her laptop of Alessandro. The sight of his commanding profile, those steely eyes, that impressive form…it all battered her senses, made her remember far too many things. The lingering way he’d undone her zip. The press of his lips to the base of her spine…the sudden frenzy of passion they’d both felt, obliterating all thought and reason for those few crucial moments.

As she clicked through the photos, she noticed a common feature, and her expression hardened. In nearly every image, Alessandro was with a woman. A different woman. Over the last month he’d attended a variety of glittering events, in London, in Paris, in Rome, always with a sexy, pouting woman, and usually one who was poured into a dress, on his arm. Clearly he’d completely forgotten about her.

She pushed the laptop away and took a sip of her tea, feeling sick in a way that had nothing to do with the tiny being she nurtured in her womb. That man—that ruthless, arrogant, philandering man—was her baby’s father. And she knew she would have to tell him so.

She shuddered with dread at the thought of Alessandro’s reaction. Disbelief? Displeasure? He was not going to be pleased, of that Mia was completely certain. And, judging by the way he handled hostile takeovers, he was going to expect Mia to fall in with his plans, whatever they would be.

And what would they be? Would he want to, heaven forbid, get rid of their child, considering him or her an inconvenience he couldn’t abide? Or would he throw money at her, to make her go away? She knew he would want to do something, but she had no idea what it would be.

And what did she want? Never to see Alessandro Costa again, preferably. Perhaps he wanted the same thing. Hopefully they could come to an agreement, even if this wasn’t a scenario either of them had envisioned or wanted.

Of course, she had to get in touch with him first, and Mia didn’t really know how to do that. She’d never had his personal information and she certainly wasn’t going to find it online. The best she could hope for was to call the headquarters of Costa International and hope the message was passed on. After that…it was surely up to him. The thought comforted her. All she could do was try, surely.

The next morning, Mia made the call to Costa International in Rome, and got the switchboard.

‘I’d like to speak to Alessandro Costa, please.’ She tried to make her voice sound confident and firm, and had a feeling she failed.

‘I’m afraid he’s not available.’

‘This is important and personal. Is there another number on which I could reach him?’

‘I’m afraid not.’

Mia bit her lip, fighting both frustration and a treacherous relief. She’d tried… ‘Then may I leave a message?’ she asked, and the receptionist’s voice was toneless as she answered.

‘Of course.’

‘And can I be sure it will get to him?’ Mia pressed, determined to make a good effort. ‘It’s important.’

‘Of course.’

She left her name and number. ‘Please do give him the message,’ she said, knowing she was probably annoying the receptionist but needing, as a matter of principle, to communicate the urgency of the matter. ‘It’s important.’

‘He’ll get the message,’ the receptionist assured her in a bored voice, and then disconnected the call.

Mia sat back, feeling the tiniest bit relieved. She’d made the effort. She’d tried to be in touch. If Alessandro didn’t get the message…

Guilt needled her at the thought. She knew she could ask her boss for his personal details, although whether he’d be willing to give them out, she didn’t know. Still, she supposed she could try harder.

But the grim truth was, she didn’t want to. She knew what it was like to be controlled by a man, someone who dictated what she wore and ate and did. Her father had done all of the above, simply because he could. Mia had lost track of the times he’d insisted she change her clothes, or told her she couldn’t go out, or insisted the dinner her mother had made was inedible when it had been fine. Her entire childhood had been one of barely endured oppression, and she could not bear the thought of opening herself up to that again.

Alessandro might not be as odiously domineering as her father, but already in their short relationship he’d told her what to do, what to wear, where to go. It was obvious to Mia that he was someone who liked being in control, not just of his employees, but everyone in his life. And she could not let him be in control of her, or her child. Not like that.

She’d tried. She’d left a message, she’d said it was important. And that, Mia told herself, pushing away the guilt that still pricked her, was all she could do.

A year later

He hadn’t meant to look her up. He’d excised her from his mind and memory, or done his very best to, even if some nights he still woke up with dreams of her lingering in his mind like an enticing mist, making him remember. Making him want.

In his waking hours, he thought of her not at all, an act of sheer, determined will, and yet, a year later, as he returned to the office of Dillard Investments that he’d done his best to avoid for the last twelve months, he realised some part of him had been thinking of her all along.

Alessandro had worked hard this last year to incorporate Dillard’s clients and assets into his ever-increasing portfolio. He hadn’t been back to London in all that time, but now, with another recent British acquisition under his belt, he had needed to return to the former office of Dillard Investments, now part of Costa International.

As he strode through Henry Dillard’s old office he tried not to look at that desk. Yet even when he was determinedly not looking at it, he was remembering. Remembering Mia’s innocent and yet overwhelming response, the way her body had clasped his in complete embrace and surrender. The dazed look in her eyes afterwards, the way her fingers had fumbled as she’d buttoned her blouse. And the next day, when she’d asked for a transfer before he’d been able to order it himself.

A year on, Alessandro could reluctantly acknowledge that perhaps he should have taken a bit more care with Mia’s rather abrupt transfer. And now she was on the other side of the world, admittedly by her own choice, but he hadn’t even checked whether she’d settled in or was enjoying her job.

It would be the right thing, Alessandro mused, to check on her, just to see how she was doing, that she was enjoying Los Angles and her position with the Arras Hotel Group.

He wouldn’t have to talk to her; she wouldn’t even have to know. He could ask Eric Foster, the CEO of the Arras Group, a man he’d put in place to run the half-dozen exclusive hotels located on the west coast of America that he’d taken over five years ago. This was nothing more than a courtesy call, a way to clear his conscience…if it needed clearing in the first place.

And yet, as he dialled the number, he felt his heart rate quicken. What if he was put through to Mia herself? What if she was happy to hear from him?

As if, on both counts. He was a fool for thinking it, for wanting it even a little.

‘Mia James?’ Foster sounded surprised when Alessandro mentioned her. ‘She was working out wonderfully, of course. I knew she would, if you’d recommended her.’

‘Was?’ Alessandro frowned, a sense of unease clenching his gut. ‘Isn’t she still working for you?’

‘Not at the moment.’ Taylor let out a little laugh that Alessandro didn’t understand. ‘She stopped about three months ago, but she’s expecting to be back this summer, no pun intended.’ He let out another laugh, and Alessandro’s frown deepened, his body tensing.

No pun…? What was that supposed to mean? ‘Has something happened to make her take such a leave of absence?’

‘Has something happened?’ Taylor repeated, sounding surprised. ‘I guess you don’t know…no reason why you would, although I thought she was a personal friend of yours…’

‘Know what?’ Alessandro demanded, brushing the man’s other words aside. He was not about to explain his relationship, or lack of it, to Mia James in any detail whatsoever.

‘Sorry, sorry. She’s on maternity leave. She had a baby three months ago. A little girl.’

For a second Alessandro couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. He felt as if his brain were short-circuiting, misfiring. A baby. A baby three months ago…nine months after their night together.

It was impossible. Impossible. She’d been on the pill. She would have told him. Surely, no matter what had or hadn’t happened between them, she would have told him. It couldn’t be…

‘Right, I must have forgotten that.’ His voice, attempting joviality, sounded forced. ‘Of course.’

‘I hope she comes back,’ Taylor said. ‘She’s a good PA. The best I’ve ever had.’

‘Yes.’ Alessandro’s mind felt as if it was buzzing, full of static and white noise. He could not form a single coherent thought. ‘Yes,’ he said again, and then he disconnected the call. He flung the phone across his desk, glad when it clattered noisily across the surface. He half wished it would break, that something would, because he realised he was furious.

Furious, because Mia James might have had his baby and not even told him. Not ever told him. His fists clenched as his blood pumped through his body in hectic, vengeful thuds. How dared she? How dared she? To not tell him something so critical, so utterly important… To deprive him of knowing his own child…

Unless it wasn’t his child?

A little girl. His mind raced as he paced the confines of the room like something caged. Could it be another man’s? Yet she’d been a virgin, no other men in the picture as far as he knew, but of course he didn’t know…anything. And yet he couldn’t believe Mia would have gone with another man so soon after. Surely it was his. Surely…

There was only one way to find out.

He took his private jet to Los Angeles that night, cancelling half a dozen meetings without a word of explanation. The flight felt endless, his mind going in pointless circles as he considered what he would say to Mia.

If it was his child, his daughter, then he knew what he wanted, and he knew he’d do anything, anything, to see it happen. He’d grown up without a father, and it had tormented him for all his childhood. He would never, ever allow a child of his to experience that same sense of loss, confusion, and grief. He’d never walk away from his own flesh and blood the way his father had, without a single thought or care.

But perhaps the baby wasn’t his. A thought that, irrationally, gave him a little lurch of disappointment, even as he recognised that his treatment of Mia had been less than admirable. Could he really blame her if she’d met someone else and forgotten him?

A limo picked him up at the airport and drove him to the address of Mia’s apartment that he’d had on file. It was a beautiful, balmy evening, the sun setting over the ocean, its placid surface shimmering with crimson and gold, palm trees silhouetted against a darkening sky.

The apartment building where Mia lived was a two-storey stucco house with an apartment on each floor and a pool in the back. Hers was on the second floor, and he mounted the steps with grim determination. Rapped once, short and hard. Waited.

A few seconds later he heard light footsteps, and then the slip of a chain before the door opened. Mia stood there, the questioning smile on her face morphing into an expression of complete and utter shock.

‘Alessandro…’ His name came out in a whisper.

‘You should have told me.’ The words came out before he could stop them.

Her face paled and one hand fluttered to her throat. ‘How did you…?’

‘So it is mine?’ he interjected grimly, and her eyes sparked.

‘It is a she, which you probably already know, considering you’re here.’

‘Yes, I do.’ He’d forgotten her fire, and how it annoyed and impressed him in equal measure. ‘Are you going to let me in?’

Wordlessly she stepped aside, closing the door behind him. Alessandro looked around the room, noting its bland corporate furnishings softened by familial touches—a colourful mat and baby’s activity gym on the floor, a pink bouncy seat in one corner, a wicker basket of bright toys by the coffee table.

He turned to Mia, taking in how she had changed. Her hair was pulled back loosely, golden tendrils framing a rounder, softer face. Her figure was rounder and softer too, more womanly. She was dressed in a tunic top and capris, casual clothes he realised he’d never seen her in. Of course, he’d barely seen her at all. He’d known her for two days. Two short, incredible, life-changing days.

Neither of them spoke; she regarded him nervously, wiping her palms down the sides of her flowing top.

‘Where is she?’ he demanded.

‘Sleeping in her nursery. Alessandro…’

‘You should have told me.’ He couldn’t get past that. ‘No matter what did or didn’t happen between us, you should have told me.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t forgive that, Mia.’

‘You can’t forgive?’ Her nervousness fell away as she stared at him incredulously. ‘You have some cheek, Alessandro Costa.’

Now he was glaring as well, both of them with daggers drawn, only moments into their meeting. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

‘What makes you think I didn’t try to tell you?’ She planted her hands on her hips, her eyes furious slits of bright, bright blue. ‘Why do you assume?’

He shook his head slowly. He wasn’t buying that. ‘If you’d tried, I would have known.’

‘Oh, really? You, the head of a huge, sprawling multibillion-dollar organisation? You think a message from a nobody PA would have been passed on?’

He frowned. ‘So how did you try to reach me?’

‘The only way I knew how,’ she snapped. ‘Through the switchboard of Costa International.’

His frown deepened, but he still couldn’t concede the point. ‘There must have been a better way…’

‘And what way would that have been?’ Mia challenged. Now she was the one who sounded angry and aggrieved, the one who was in the right, and yet Alessandro felt she couldn’t be. She couldn’t be. ‘You didn’t exactly want to keep in touch, did you? I didn’t have any of your contact details, and I was under the distinct impression you never wanted to lay eyes on me again. Which was fine by me, because I didn’t want to lay eyes on you.’

Which, absurdly, stung, even though he knew it shouldn’t have. It wasn’t as if they’d had a relationship, or even been friends. ‘A baby changes things, obviously,’ he snapped. ‘A baby changes everything.’

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