Valenti's One-Month Mistress. Sabrina Philips

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СКАЧАТЬ to her love of designing things. And that was why, whilst she was debating going to university or trying to get a job in marketing, this summer her father had finally let her loose on his menus.

      When he had finished asking her every question imaginable, she realised she was beaming all over her face. It felt as if she had been invisible her whole life and that he had just bathed her in sunshine and seen her for who she really was.

      ‘My staff, who have had years of training,’ he said, lost for a moment in his admiration for her enthusiasm and talent, ‘are incapable of producing something even half this original.’

      And that was the moment her life had changed for ever. For in response to her wide-eyed amazement, he had announced that he was the owner of the most successful new restaurant and hotel in Rome, and that there was no way he was leaving this restaurant until she agreed to become part of his team.

      It had felt as if she had just won first prize in a competition she’d never even known she had entered. Out of nowhere had come this man, as far from boys her own age as wine was from water, well-dressed, exotically Italian, with a charisma that held her in its thrall, who had created the best there was in the industry she loved. And he’d wanted her to work for him.

      Faye remembered the feeling of pure excitement, the sensation of having arrived in every sense of the word when she had waved goodbye to her proud parents and then arrived at Rome International Airport, to find him waiting for her in his bright red sports car to personally oversee her safe arrival. But she had fallen under his spell even before that. For he could have arrived on a moped and revealed that he was actually a pizza delivery boy and she would have been just as captivated. But he had been everything he had said he was—and more besides. Just as the hotel had been beyond her wildest imagination—Il Maia: goddess of growth, indeed. Here, she had not only been introduced to the glamorous world of five-star hospitality, she had also lost her innocence and her heart.

      Yes, this arrival at Il Maia was a very different one. Rather than being filled with a sense of freedom and anticipation, now she felt trapped here, because it was the only hope she had. But if being forced to relive the desolation of six years ago meant there was even a small chance of saving Matteson’s, she was just going to have to face it.

      Filled with a grim determination, Faye opened her suitcase and began hanging what few outfits she had brought with her in the enormous wardrobes along one side of the room. She sighed. She had not packed with any kind of dining in mind, let alone dining at one of Dante’s exclusive restaurants. Eating out was, ironically, a rare thing for her these days. Though she occasionally went out for a drink with some of the girls from the restaurant when she could, it had been a long time since she had been out on this scale—and longer since she had agreed to a date. Not that this was a date, she reflected, pushing something like regret to the back of her mind.

      She held up the only dress she had brought with her. It was a high-street fern-green wrap-over number that was rather too short, but she had brought it knowing the temperature here in September could still be stifling during the day. It was her only option. So what if he wouldn’t consider it appropriate? He could hardly have expected her to have planned for tonight. She had spent the last of her savings on her suit for the meeting, stupidly thinking she could fool him into believing that the restaurant just needed a little extra cash to expand its already adequate profits. But now she knew he was only too aware of their dire financial situation there was no point pretending.

      Faye looked in the mirror and unclipped her hair, fanning its honey-coloured length over her shoulders. In two and a half hours’ time he would be downstairs, waiting for her. A frisson of anticipation shot through her. Stupid girl, her reflection seemed to mock. So her body still wanted him? So much was different. So much of what she had believed to be real back then was not. But she had never been wrong about the level of desire he evoked within her. She had thought it was the rose-tinted glasses of nostalgia that made her remember how her body had gone into meltdown the moment he touched her, how she had longed for his hands upon her whenever he was near, but today proved that nostalgia had nothing to do with it. Even when his touch had been simply to restrain her, rather than designed to ignite her sexually, she had not wanted it to end. Or maybe that had been precisely its purpose? she speculated as she collected fresh underwear and headed for the luxurious bathroom. She’d only had to see the way Julietta eyed him so coyly to know that he had the same effect on all women. And Dante was not the sort of man who was unaware of his own appeal. It would be exactly his style to torment her with the way he made her feel for his own ends. But it was just sexual attraction, she reasoned. Though her body might be weak, she most definitely was not. Once she had naively fallen for his charms, gladly surrendered her virginity and then slipped out of his life compliantly. But she wasn’t eighteen anymore. She was older, and wiser, and had absolutely no intention of surrendering anything.

      Eight-twenty. He saw her the moment she entered the room. So he would not have to go up to the suite and drag her down here. Pity. To his annoyance, several other men at the bar turned on their stools and gave her the once, then twice over. No wonder, in a dress that damned short; she always had had the most fantastic pair of legs he had ever seen. He fought the urge to walk straight up to her, wrap his hands in that golden mane of hair hanging loose over her shoulders and claim her as his own with all the force of his kiss. All in good time, he thought.

      He finished the remainder of his wine and stood up before she reached him. ‘I trust you had no trouble finding your way here?’ he mocked, eyeing the watch at her wrist and looking upwards, as if through to the floors above.

      Faye did not answer him. She had had no intention of arriving on time, even if she had been ready since seven forty-five.

      ‘Our table is ready—do not let us refrain from the pleasure any longer.’ Dante motioned for Faye to walk ahead of him.

      ‘I agree. Let’s get this over with.’ She felt him place one hand lightly at the small of her back and begin to guide her through the bar into the restaurant. His touch was electric. The heat of his hand spread throughout her body. She swallowed, wanting to yell at him to back off, but she was aware that eyes were upon them. No doubt wondering what the hell the head of Valenti Enterprises was doing in one of his restaurants with her, and not one of the usual supermodels he did more than dine with, if the tabloids were anything to go by.

      Like the rest of the hotel, the Tuscan restaurant had been simply and elegantly updated, Faye acknowledged as he led her to their table, and she didn’t need to be in the restaurant business to know it remained one of Italy’s most celebrated.

      ‘Please, sit.’ He held out her chair for her. ‘Welcome back to Perfezione.’

      Faye raised her eyebrows. Perfection; she had forgotten. Along with the rest of the staff she had known the restaurant affectionately as Fez during her month here. How had the egoism of the name never struck her back then, even if he did have a point?

      ‘I have explained to the staff that we have important matters of business to discuss this evening. They have assured me that their disturbance will be minimal.’

      Faye was not sure that was necessarily a good thing. They were seated in a fairly isolated corner. The tables cleverly concealed by vines that were the restaurant’s trademark. If it was possible Dante looked even more forbidding than earlier, in a dark lounge suit and a maroon shirt open at the neck that revealed a potently masculine sprinkle of dark hair.

      ‘I trust your room is satisfactory?’ His politeness was utterly unnerving.

      ‘Perfezione, naturalmente.’ Two could play at the butter-wouldn’t-melt game.

      ‘I should hope so. You approve of the changes?’

      ‘It СКАЧАТЬ