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She nodded. What better way to get noticed than to work directly for one of the biggest names in the advertising industry.
“Good. You aren’t done with this project. I want you to dig into those memories and write out some ideas—”
“But don’t you have a creative team for this account?” She wanted to kick herself for blurting out her thoughts.
Mr. Amatucci sent her a narrowed look. His cool, professional tone remained unchanged. “Are you saying you aren’t interested in working on the project?”
Before she could find the words to express her enthusiasm, his phone rang and he turned away. She struggled to contain her excitement. This was her big opening and she fully intended to make the most of it.
This was going to work out perfectly.
A smile tugged at Kayla lips. She’d finally made it. Though people thought she’d made a big mistake by taking a step backward to assume a temporary position as Mr. Amatucci’s PA, it was actually working out just as she’d envisioned.
She’d gone after what she wanted and she’d gotten it. Well, not exactly, but she was well on her way to making her dreams a reality. With a little more patience and a lot of hard work, she’d become an account executive on New York’s famous Madison Avenue in the exclusive advertising agency of Amatucci & Associates.
Her fingers glided over the keyboard of her computer as she completed the email to the creative department about another of their Christmas campaigns. Sure it was only March, but in the marketing world, they were working months into the future. And with a late-season snowstorm swirling about outside, it seemed sort of fitting to be working on a holiday project.
She glanced off to the side of her computer monitor, noticing her boss holding the phone to his ear as he faced a wall of windows overlooking downtown Manhattan. Being on the twenty-third floor, they normally had a great view of the city, but not today. What she wouldn’t give to be someplace sunny—far, far away from the snow. After months of frigid temperatures and icy sidewalks, she was most definitely ready for springtime.
“Have you started that list?” Mr. Amatucci’s piercing brown gaze met hers.
Um—she’d been lost in her thoughts and hadn’t even realized he’d wrapped up his phone call. Her gaze moved from his tanned face to her monitor. “Not yet. I need to finish one more email. It shouldn’t take me long. I think your ideas for the account are spot-on. Just wait until the client lays her eyes on the mock-ups.”
Then, realizing she was rambling, she pressed her lips firmly together. There was just something about being around him that filled her with nervous energy. And his long stretches of silence had her rushing to fill in the silent gaps.
Mr. Amatucci looked as though he was about to say something, but his phone rang again. All eyes moved to his desk. The ringtone was different. It must be his private line. In all the time she’d been working for him, it had never rung.
It rang again and yet all he did was stare at the phone.
“Do you want me to get it?” Kayla offered, not sure what the problem was or why Mr. Amatucci was hesitant. “I really don’t mind.”
“I’ve got it.” He reached over and snatched up the receiver. “Nico, what’s the matter?”
Well, that was certainly a strange greeting. Who picked up the phone expecting something to be wrong? Then, realizing that she was staring—not to mention eavesdropping—she turned her attention back to the notes she’d been rewording into an email. She glanced up to see Mr. Amatucci had turned his back to her. He once again faced the windows and spoke softly. Though the words were no longer distinguishable, the steely edge of his voice was still obvious.
She looked at the paper on her desk, her gaze darting over it to find where she’d left off. She didn’t want to sit here with her hands idle. No, that definitely wouldn’t look good for her.
She was sending along some of Mr. Amatucci’s thoughts about the mock-up of an ad campaign for a new client—a very demanding client. The account was huge. It would go global—like most of the other accounts her boss personally handled. Each of his clients expected Mr. Amatucci’s world to revolve around them and their accounts. He took their calls, no matter the time—day or night. Through it all, he maintained his cool. To say Angelo was a workaholic was being modest.
As a result, he ran the most sought-after advertising agency in the country—if not the world. Stepping off the elevator, clients and staff were immediately greeted by local artists’ work and fresh flowers. The receptionist was bright and cheerful without being annoying. Appointments were kept timely. The quality of the work was exemplary. All of it culminated in Amatucci & Associates being so popular that they had to turn away business.
“Cosa! Nico, no!” Mr. Amatucci’s hand waved about as he talked.
Her boss’s agitated voice rose with each word uttered. Kayla’s fingers paused as her attention zeroed in on the man who never raised his voice—until now. He was practically yelling. But she could only make out bits and pieces. His words were a mix of English and Italian with a thick accent.
“Nico, are you sure?”
Had someone died? And who was Nico? She hadn’t heard Mr. Amatucci mention anyone with that name, but then again, this call was on his private line. It was highly doubtful that it had anything to do with business. And she knew exactly nothing about his personal life—sometimes she wondered if he even had one.
“Marianna can’t be pregnant!” The shouts spiraled off into Italian.
Pregnant? Was he the father? The questions came hard and fast. There was a little voice in the back of her mind that told her she should excuse herself and give him some privacy, but she was riveted to her chair. No one would ever believe that this smooth, icy-cool man was capable of such heated volatility. She blinked, making sure she hadn’t fallen asleep and was having some bizarre dream. But when her eyes opened, her boss was standing across the room with his hand slicing through the air as he spoke Italian.
The paramount question was: Who was Marianna?
* * *
Angelo Amatucci tightened his grip on the phone until his fingers hurt. This had to be some sort of nightmare and soon he’d wake up. Could it be he’d been working a bit too much lately? Perhaps he should listen to the hints from his business associates to take a break from the frantic pace. That would explain why just moments ago when he’d been examining Ms. Hill’s perfume—a scent he found quite inviting—that he’d been tempted to smooth his thumb along the silky skin of her wrist—
“Angelo, are you listening to me?” Tones of blatant concern laced Nico’s voice, demanding Angelo’s full attention. “What are we going to do?”
Nico was his younger brother by four years, and though their opinions differed on almost everything, the one area where they presented a unified front was their little sister, Marianna—who wasn’t so little anymore.
“There has to be another answer to this. You must have misunderstood. Marianna can’t be pregnant. She’s not even in a serious relationship.”
“I know what I heard.”
“Tell me again.”
“I wanted her to taste the wine from the vineyard. I think it’s the best we’ve ever produced. Just wait until you try some—”
“Nico, tell me about Marianna.”
“Yes, well, she has looked awfully pale and out of sorts since she returned home after her year of traveling. I thought she’d done too much partying—”
“Accidenti! She wasn’t supposed to waste the year partying.” Unable to stand still a moment longer, Angelo started to pace again. When his gaze met the wide-eyed stare of Ms. Hill, she glanced down at her desk. He made a point of turning his back to her and lowering his voice. “She was sent to Australia to work on the vineyards there and get more experience in order to help you. If I’d have known she planned for it to be a year of partying, I’d have sent for her. I could have put her to work at the office.”
Nico sighed. “Not everyone is like you, big brother. We aren’t all driven to spend every last moment of our lives working.”
“And you didn’t do anything about her being sick?”
“What was I supposed to do? I asked if she needed anything. She said no, that it was some sort of flu bug. What else was I supposed to do?”
Angelo’s hand waved around as he flew off in a string of Italian rants. Taking a calming breath, he stopped in front of the windows and stared blindly at the snow. “And it took her confessing she was pregnant for you to figure it out?”
“Like you would have figured it out sooner? What do either of us know about pregnant women...unless there’s something you haven’t told me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Angelo had no intention of getting married and having a family. Not now. Not ever.
“She didn’t have any choice but to come clean when I offered her some wine. She knew she couldn’t drink it. Hard to believe that you and I will be uncles this time next year.”
“Don’t tell me you’re happy about this development?”
“I’m not. But what do you want me to do?”
“Find out the father’s name for starters.”
“I tried. She’s being closemouthed. All she said was that she couldn’t drink the wine because she’s eight weeks pregnant. Then she started to cry and took off for her room.”
“Didn’t you follow? How could you have just let her get away without saying more?”
“How could I? I sure don’t see you here trying to deal with an emotional pregnant woman.”
How had things spun so totally out of control? Angelo’s entire body tensed. And more importantly, how did he fix them? How did he help his sister from so far away?
Angelo raked his fingers through his hair. “She has to tell you more. How are we supposed to help if we don’t even know which man is the father. She isn’t exactly the sort to stay in a relationship for long.”
“Trust me. I’ve tried repeatedly to get his name from her. Maybe she’ll tell you.”
That wasn’t a conversation Angelo wanted to have over the phone. It had to be in person. But he was in the middle of overseeing a number of important projects. Now was not the time for him to leave New York. But what choice did he have? This was his baby sister—the little girl he remembered so clearly running around with a smile on her face and her hair in braids.
But a lot of time had passed since he’d left Italy. Would she open up to him? The fact his leaving hadn’t been his idea didn’t seem to carry much weight with his siblings, who were left behind to deal with their dysfunctional parents. Though he dearly missed his siblings, he didn’t miss the constant barrage of high-strung emotions of his parent’s arguments and then their inevitable reunions—a constant circle of epic turmoil.
Maybe the trouble Marianna had got herself into was some sort of rebellion. With their parents now living in Milan, there was only Nico at home to cope with their sister. And to Nico’s credit, he never complained about the enormous responsibility leveled solely on his shoulders.
Now that their parents had moved on, Angelo didn’t have any legitimate excuse to stay away. But every time the subject of his visiting Monte Calanetti surfaced, he pleaded he had too much work to do. It was the truth—mostly. Perhaps he should have tried harder to make more time for his siblings.
Stricken with guilt, anger and a bunch of emotions that Angelo couldn’t even name, he couldn’t think straight. As the oldest brother, he was supposed to look out for his brother and sister. Instead, he’d focused all of his time and energy on creating a thriving, wildly successful company.
In the process, he’d failed their wayward and headstrong sister.
And now her future would forever be altered.
He owed it to Marianna to do what he could to fix things. But how could he do that when he was so far away?
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_248ddc4b-a65f-5b93-934a-74fb47037e9d)
THIS ISN’T GOOD. Not good at all.
Kayla pressed Save on the computer. She needed to give Mr. Amatucci some space. She reached for her wallet to go buy a—a—a cocoa. Yes, that would suit the weather outside perfectly.
She got to her feet when her boss slammed down the phone. He raked his fingers through his short hair and glanced at her. “Sorry about that. Where were we?”
The weariness in his voice tugged at her sympathies. “Um...well, I thought that I’d go get some um...cocoa—”
“The Van Holsen account. We were talking about how we need to put a rush on it.”
“Um...sure.” She sat back down.
Kayla wasn’t sure how to act. She’d never before witnessed her boss seriously lose it. And who exactly was Marianna? Was it possible Mr. Amatucci really did have a life outside this office—one nobody knew about? The thought had her fighting back a frown. Why should it bother her to think that her boss might have fathered a baby with this woman? It wasn’t as if they were anything more than employee and employer.
Mr. Amatucci stepped up to her desk. “I’ll need to go over this with you tomorrow afternoon.”
“Tomorrow?”
She knew that he asked for the impossible at times and this happened to be one of those times. He’d caught her totally off guard. It’d take time to think out innovative ideas for the new campaign platform. And she had an important meeting that night, but there was no way she was telling her boss about that.
Mr. Amatucci arched a brow at her. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“Uh...no. No problem.” She would not let this opportunity pass her by. “I’ll just finish up what I was working on, and I’ll get started.”
He paused as though considering her answer. “On second thought, it’d be best to go over your ideas first thing in the morning.”
“The morning?”
His gaze narrowed in on her, and she wished that her thoughts would quit slipping across her tongue and out her mouth. It certainly wasn’t helping this situation. She was here to impress him with her capabilities, not to annoy him when he was obviously already in a bad mood.
“Ms. Hill, you seem to be repeating what I say. Is there some sort of problem I should be aware of?”
She hated that he always called her Ms. Hill. Couldn’t he be like everyone else in the office and call her Kayla? But then again, she was talking about Angelo Amatucci—he was unlike anyone she’d ever known.
He was the first man to set her stomach aquiver without so much as touching her. She’d been so aware of his mouth being just a breath away from her neck as he’d sniffed her perfume. The memory was still fresh in her mind. Was it so wrong that she hadn’t wanted that moment to end?
Of course it was. She swallowed hard. He was her boss, not just some guy she’d met at a friend’s place. There could never be anything serious between them—not that he’d ever even noticed her as a desirable woman.
“Ms. Hill?”
“No, there won’t be a...uh...problem.” Who was she kidding? This was going to be a big problem, but she’d work it out—somehow—some way.
Her gaze moved to the windows and the darkening sky. With it only nearing the lunch hour, it shouldn’t be so dark, which could only mean that they were going to get pounded with more snow. The thought of getting stuck at the office turned her nervous stomach nauseous.
Snow. Snow. Go away.
He gazed at her. “I didn’t mean to snap at you—”
“I understand. You’ve got a lot on your mind.”
“Thank you.”
His gaze continued to hold hers. The dark depths of his eyes held a mystery—the story of the real man behind the designer suits and the Rolex watches. She had to admit that she was quite curious about him—more than any employee had a right to about her very handsome, very single boss. And that odd phone call only made her all the more curious. Maybe he wasn’t as single as she’d presumed. The jagged thought lodged in her throat.
Mr. Amatucci’s steady gaze met hers. “You’re sure you’re up for this project?”
She pressed her lips together, no longer trusting her mouth, and nodded. She’d have to reschedule tonight’s meeting for the fund-raiser.
“Good. If you need help, feel free to ask one of the other PAs to take over some of your other work. The Van Holsen account is now your priority.”
He gathered his tablet computer and headed for the door. “I’ve got a meeting. I’ll be back later.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”
Without a backward glance, he strode out of the room, looking like the calm, cool, collected Angelo Amatucci that everyone respected and admired for his creative foresight. But how he was able to shut down his emotions so quickly was totally beyond her.
What was she going to do about her meeting tonight? It didn’t help that she’d been the one to set it up. Somehow she’d been put in charge of the Inner City League after-school program fund-raiser. The program was in a serious financial bind. ICL was a great organization that kept at-risk kids off the streets after school while their parents were still at work.
Kayla had been volunteering for the past year. Helping others was how her parents had raised her. They had always been generous with their spare time and money—not that they had much of either. Kayla may have hightailed it out of Paradise, Pennsylvania, as soon as she could, but there was still a lot of Paradise in her. And she’d swear that she got more back from the kids and the other volunteers than she ever gave to any of them. For a girl who was used to living in a small town of friends, it was a comfort to have such a friendly group to keep her from feeling isolated in such a large city of strangers.
There was no way she could reschedule tonight’s meeting. They were running out of time until the charity concert and there was still so much to plan. Somehow she had to make this all work out. She couldn’t let down the kids nor could she let down her boss. The thought of Angelo Amatucci counting on her felt good.
