Dreaming Of… Italy. Alison Roberts

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      “There was never a doubt.” He glanced at her. “He’s offering me exclusive negotiations on a multi-billion-dollar conglomerate.”

      “Because you were a foster child?”

      The words rankled. He should have been pleased that for once his status had gotten him something. Instead, he thought of Olivia’s mom and dad. Her arguing sister and brother. He wondered what it might be like to grow up surrounded by people who loved you enough that they traveled thousands of miles to see you simply because they missed you.

      And got angry with himself. He’d forgotten all this, let it go. One episode with a quirky family shouldn’t make him long for things that couldn’t be. No one could change the past.

      His gaze fell to the documents in the envelope. Pictures of a young man with Constanzo Bartulocci’s eyes. A birth certificate that named the baby’s father as unknown. But a DNA test that proved Constanzo was the father.

      “Well, I’m not sure who his P.I. was but he’s thorough.”

      Vivi rose from her chair and sat beside him so she could see the papers. “Why do you say that?”

      He turned to hand the DNA test to her but their gazes caught and those weird feelings swept through him again. The pinpricks of awareness. The warmth of excitement. The swirl of desire. Except this time they came with the knowledge that he was taking her to Italy. They’d spend seven hours alone on a plane, eat every meal together—

      But Tucker dismissed those concerns simply by looking away. He might be attracted but he wouldn’t pursue it. She was his employee but more than that, she wasn’t his type. He liked sexy sophisticates. She was a family girl. Too sweet for him. Or maybe he was just a little too rough for her.

      “To get DNA for the test, Constanzo’s investigator probably trailed the poor kid until he could get his used cup at a coffee shop or something.”

      Vivi laughed. “Really? You think that’s what he did?”

      “He certainly couldn’t ask for a lock of his hair.”

      “Not unless he wanted to get arrested. Or alert Constanzo’s son that someone was investigating him. I’m guessing Mr. B. doesn’t want his name even mentioned until the road is clear for a congenial meeting.”

      Tucker sat back on the sofa. She’d brought the situation down to its real bottom line, and quickly enough that Tucker wondered if that was why Constanzo wanted her to go to Italy. She’d probably said something while they were playing cards to make him think she was smart, intuitive, good with people.

      And maybe she was. Tucker might understand being a foster child, but she understood being poor. She also knew about family.

      “Are you sure you don’t mind me going to Italy?”

      “Constanzo Bartulocci is one of the richest men in the world. You don’t get rich by being stupid or by not understanding people. He sees something in you. Something he thinks I might need. Wouldn’t I be a little foolish to refuse his backhanded advice?”

      “I guess.”

      He slid the papers back into the envelope. “Pack tonight. We’ll leave tomorrow after work.”

      She rose. “Okay.”

      He walked to his desk, dismissing her, but stopped suddenly. “And Miss Prentiss make sure your parents are on board with this trip.”

      There was no way he’d take her anywhere if big Jim and narrow-eyed Loraina didn’t want him to.

       CHAPTER FIVE

      VIVI CALLED HER parents and made arrangements to meet them at a pizza place by their hotel for dinner. When she dropped the bomb about Italy, her dad went ballistic. Her mom absolutely forbade her from going.

      “I’m twenty-two. You can’t stop me. Besides, you met him. He’s a wealthy man who can have his pick of women. Trust me. He doesn’t want the local street waif.” Even as she said the words, she knew they were something of a lie. Not a total lie, but kind of close. She didn’t know what had happened when Tucker Engle had bent to pick up his briefcase and suddenly they’d been two inches away from each other. But her attraction to him had turned her voice to a whisper and she’d seen the spark of something in his eyes.

      Still, he’d ignored it. Pretended it wasn’t there. He might find her attractive but he didn’t want to. Which meant he wouldn’t act on the weird feelings hopping between them, and, technically, that was all her parents were interested in.

      “You’re a very beautiful woman. You don’t think it’s odd that you go to work for him one day and three days later he decides to take you across the Atlantic?”

      She brightened. “That’s just it. He doesn’t want me to go. He wants to buy the company of a man named Constanzo Bartulocci. Mr. Bartulocci dropped in today unannounced and gave Mr. Engle the chance to be the sole bidder on his company. But to get the chance to bid, he has to go to Constanzo’s estate in Italy.”

      “With you?”

      “Only because Mr. Bartulocci wants me to go, too.”

      “Why?”

      “Because I’m part of Tucker Engle’s team. With his regular assistant gone. I’m his go-to girl.”

      When her parents still looked unconvinced, she sighed. “I am twenty-two years old. I had something really bad happen to me three years ago. I got beyond it. And do you know why? Because if I didn’t, if Cord had made me too scared to live, then he didn’t just steal my reputation from me. He also stole my life and, frankly, that’s something I refuse to give to him.”

      Her dad tossed his napkin to the table. “You have a point.”

      Her mother shook her head. “It’s just that Tucker Engle is so young.”

      “Yes, he is young, but he’s a very smart guy. Before you found out how old he was even you told me I could learn from him.”

      She reached across the worn table of the pizza place and caught her mother’s hand. “Don’t trust him, Mom. Trust me. I need to get out in the world to prove I’ve recovered.”

      Twenty minutes later, she was walking home to pack.

      The next day she brought her single piece of luggage and a toiletries case to work. Tucker had meetings out of the office all day in preparation for being away, so he had left the limo for her and told her he would meet her at the airstrip.

      Traffic kept her on the road until almost seven, filling her with panic. But when she saw the long, sleek jet that stood at the ready, she forgot all about being late and gaped at it in awe. Tucker Engle owned that glossy little jet. For all she knew he also owned the airstrip.

      He was a former foster kid who at thirty or so now owned a plane. Maybe an airstrip. It was phenomenal.

      And СКАЧАТЬ