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CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_ec41f09f-0cd1-535a-be9d-104a9bd338a2)
‘YOUR PENTHOUSE?’ LILY couldn’t hide the shock in her voice. ‘I’m staying in your penthouse?’ Her fingers dug at her chair’s leather arms.
‘No other floor has a roof garden or swimming pool.’ He surveyed her as if analysing a curious specimen.
For the second time that day she felt almost like she were blushing.
‘I didn’t open the blinds. It was late and I was jet-lagged and—’ She snapped her mouth shut before she blurted out any more. She’d had a vague impression of a spacious sitting room, of stylish furnishings, but she’d never dreamed...
‘Never mind, you’ll see the roof garden later.’
Lily shook her head. ‘There won’t be a later. I can’t stay there.’
‘But you said the accommodation was perfectly adequate.’ This time his mouth didn’t curl in a smile but she knew he was laughing at her. How could he not be when she was too thick to realise she’d spent the night in a Manhattan penthouse?
‘It’s your home. It wouldn’t be appropriate.’
* * *
Raffa couldn’t imagine any of the women he’d dated turning down an opportunity to move into his apartment, even if just the guest quarters. They’d see it as a stepping stone to more.
He’d known Lily Nolan was different from the moment she picked up the phone and spoke in that sultry midnight voice. It had evoked a fragile tendril of something—not quite arousal, but definite interest.
She continued to pique his interest. She was...refreshing. Intriguing. Not because of her damaged face or appalling clothes. He, of all people, was the last person to judge on looks.
How many years since he’d found any woman interesting?
He leaned closer, registering her subtle shift as she compensated by pressing back into her chair.
Did she dislike men or just him?
The fact he wondered pulled him up short.
He wouldn’t be distracted into musing on Lily Nolan’s likes and dislikes. But he did need to ensure he’d made the right decision, bringing her here. Too much rode on this.
‘If I think the arrangement appropriate then who’s to say otherwise?’
‘Are you perverse with everyone or just me?’ She spoke slowly, enunciating each syllable with clipped precision. ‘I can’t live in your home.’
‘Is it your privacy you’re concerned about? Are you worried I’ll invade your space?’
The paparazzi labelled him a playboy because he wasn’t seen with the same woman twice. No one knew that was due to boredom and a dislike of being the object of any greedy woman’s avarice. These days his reputation for carnal pleasure owed everything to the fantasies of those he hadn’t taken to bed. He hadn’t desired a woman in years.
They always wanted something from him. Always had.
He hated how that made him feel.
Surely Lily Nolan didn’t think he was so desperate he’d sexually harass his staff?
‘The guest wing is separate, with its own entrance. There’s a lock on the door connecting to the rest of the penthouse so you’ll be quite alone.’ In light of experience, he should be worried about her intruding.
Yet she remained silent. Indignation rose.
The sensation made him pause. Raffa couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt it.
Because he always got his own way?
Or because there was little except business that he cared about, including what people thought of him?
‘The arrangement is temporary. My PA had organised accommodation but there was trouble with burst pipes yesterday. The place is badly water damaged.’
‘I could stay at a hotel.’
‘You could, but you said you couldn’t afford that. Something about spending your salary on other things.’
Her eyebrows lifted as if she recognised his curiosity and was surprised by it.
Dannazione! He was surprised by it!
‘You couldn’t have put me up somewhere else?’
‘Because I’m rolling in cash?’ She had a point. It would have been the work of a moment for Pete to make alternative arrangements. But Raffa was already financing her New York stay in style. Besides, having her close meant a chance to satisfy his curiosity.
‘I didn’t get rich by wasting money, Ms Nolan. The guest suite is empty and convenient for your work here. I can be sure you’ll be on hand, doing what I want you to do, not off sightseeing.’
For a moment her eyes glowed and he could have sworn the temperature in the room rose a couple of degrees. But her temper didn’t ignite. She really had phenomenal control.
Raffa refused to consider why he enjoyed testing it.
‘You may recall I didn’t want to come to New York. If you’re concerned I’ll get distracted I could go home and work there.’
He shook his head. ‘You’ll stay where you are till the other apartment is ready. I’m paying top dollar for your services. I want to be sure I get my money’s worth.’
‘You don’t trust me?’ Her head angled as if to view him better.
‘I don’t trust anyone till they prove themselves.’
Her gaze sharpened. ‘You were the one eager to have me here.’
He shrugged and steepled his hands, elbows on the arms of his chair.
‘Based on past performance, I judge you to be the person I need. But this project is more important than any you’ve done. Nothing will be left to chance.’
* * *
Lily looked into those bright blue eyes, felt the intensity of that searing stare and knew they’d reached the heart of things.
She felt the change in him. The quickening, the sizzle of energy.
Their conversation up to now had been skirmishes. Maybe he kept all new staff on their toes till he was convinced of their worth. Though why he’d take such a personal interest in her she couldn’t fathom.
‘Why is it so important?’
The furrow on his tanned brow disappeared as he leaned back. ‘I won’t brook failure on this.’
As far as Lily knew he never failed. Raffaele Petri had a nose for a good deal and a reputation for success. He also had an unerring instinct for what would appeal to the wealthiest clientele. That was how he’d built his fortune, with elite resorts, clubs and now marinas servicing those who demanded the best in everything. The rich always had enough to spend on themselves despite economic downturns that affected people like her, struggling to make a go of things.
‘This man I’m to focus on, Robert Bradshaw...’
‘Yes?’
‘Can you tell me about him?’
‘That’s your job. I want a full report—his business interests, friends and connections. Everything.’ Raffaele Petri’s expression didn’t alter but Lily heard something in his voice that made the hair at her nape rise.
She had the disquieting certainty she was venturing into dangerous waters. Once more instinct yelled at her to back out. But she had no choice. He’d destroy her reputation if she reneged on this job.
‘It would help if you told me something about the project.’
He regarded her, unblinking, and she shivered. It was said Raffaele Petri could seduce a woman with a glance from those stunning ocean-blue eyes. Not that he’d ever turn his fabled seduction skills on her. But what she read there now was hard calculation. Shrewdness as if he assessed her, deciding how much to share.
Not much, if the firm set of his sculpted jaw was an indication.
Lily stared back, trying to ignore the tremor of feminine response fluttering through her belly and the teasing trickle of heat in her blood.
What a time for her hormones to wake up from hibernation!
She breathed deep, corralling her thoughts. ‘My other commissions for you have been to research companies or commercial trends, even localities.’ They had been to determine if a site or company would be a good investment. ‘This time it’s about a man.’
Still he said nothing, as if waiting to see how far she could go connecting the dots.
Exasperation rose. ‘Is there a particular angle I’m to focus on?’
‘I told you. Everything. The size and nature of his income. His business associates. His interests, his weaknesses and habits. Who he sleeps with. The lot.’
Was it imagination, or did that stare harden?
She didn’t imagine it. His voice when he’d said ‘who he sleeps with’ was different, his Italian accent stronger, like rich chocolate coating a lethal stiletto blade. She fought to repress a shiver. Whoever Robert Bradshaw was, whatever he’d done, she’d hate to be in his shoes.
In that instant Lily felt what she’d understood only intellectually before: Raffaele Petri would be a dangerous enemy.
Just as well she was too insignificant to be his enemy.
‘I see.’ She didn’t, but clearly he wasn’t going to enlighten her. ‘Okay. I’ll do the best I can.’
‘That’s not good enough. I need to know you’ll deliver the goods.’
‘You’ll get your report, Signor Petri. But it will take time. This is a broad brief.’ She waved one hand, trying to look brisk and organised, despite the chill sinking between her shoulder blades. ‘His commercial interests and associates I can uncover. I’ll do a thorough check on all those. His property and lifestyle, ditto. But there are limits.’
‘Limits?’ Dark eyebrows rose as if he’d never heard the word.
‘I’m a researcher, Signor Petri, not a private detective. If you want information on this man’s personal life, you’d do better hiring one of those. They can stake out his residence and give you an account of his comings and goings.’
He was already shaking his head. ‘I learned long ago not to trust them. I want results, not excuses.’
Surprised, Lily leaned forward, then froze as she registered a warm, spicy scent. It teased her nostrils, sending shockwaves of delight to her belly.
It made her think of photos she’d seen of this man years ago. He’d lain half naked on a rumpled bed, jaw shadowed and his arms raised behind his head in a pose that accentuated the impressive musculature of his chest and arms. The sight had coaxed millions of women to buy decadently expensive aftershave for their men.
Was that what she smelled now? Lily inhaled, wondering at the art of producing a fragrance that seemed so purely natural, like hot male flesh and forbidden longing.
Abruptly she pulled back, trying to remember her train of thought.
That was it. When had he used private detectives in the past, and why didn’t he like them?
His expression made it clear he wouldn’t answer.
She shrugged. ‘It’s up to you. I’m just warning you that there are limits to my capabilities.’
‘Yet you once worked in a private detection firm, even received some training.’
Lily stared. He knew that about her? She tried to recall how much detail she’d included on her résumé, but what really surprised her was that he’d read it personally.
‘It was a long time ago and I didn’t qualify as a private investigator. The work didn’t suit me.’ She’d got sick of grubbing around in people’s personal lives. Commercial research was much less seedy.
‘But you have the skills. I want everything, from Bradshaw’s finances to his phone records.’
Lily laid her hands in her lap, maintaining her aura of calm despite the alarm bells going off in her head.
‘Unless you have a warrant, phone records are protected.’ She paused, breathing deep. ‘Obviously you’re not talking about hacking into phone company records.’
Those straight, decisive eyebrows rose. ‘Aren’t I? But I understood you included hacking in your skill set.’
Lily reared back, her seat sliding away from the conference table. ‘How did you know that? It was years ago.’
Her breath came in staccato bursts. It had been years since anyone had mentioned her one brush with the law. She’d been just a kid, bored from being alone so much, cut off from her friends by the regime of medical treatment and surgery she’d undergone. And by the fact that to a lot of her schoolmates she’d become a freak. Not just because of her scars, but because she’d been the one to survive. She’d wondered if they felt guilty because secretly they’d have preferred it if her popular friend Rachel had lived, not her.
Emotion tugged at her like an ocean current, threatening to pull her under.
Instead she focused on Raffaele Petri—so strong and arrogant and utterly in control. She’d bet he’d never felt overwhelmed or insecure. Surprisingly, that worked. Her racing pulse slowed.
‘I chose the best for this project team, with the best skill set. Your short-lived career as a hacker was impressive. It’s a wonder you got off so lightly.’
Lily crossed her arms over her chest. ‘I was underage. And I did no damage.’
‘No, just managed to break into one of the best protected and encrypted government databases in the world.’
* * *
