The Flaw In Raffaele's Revenge

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‘If you hired me to break the law, think again, Signor Petri. I won’t do that for any client.’ She sprang to her feet and paced away.

That was better. At last he read something definite in Lily Nolan. Not just anger but indignation and surely a little fear?

He didn’t want to scare her. But she’d sparred with him for so long he’d begun to wonder what it would take to probe past her control. Even when she was angry she’d been coolly poised, a challenge, a mystery he couldn’t resist prodding.

Not now. Now Raffa saw the woman behind the mask of calm self-sufficiency.

What he saw heightened his interest.

Lily Nolan’s eyes flashed fire as she turned to face him. Her lips moved in what he was sure was an unconscious pout of defiance. A pout any red-blooded man would respond to.

Except he was her boss.

He never harassed his staff.

Besides, he wasn’t into kissing. He’d perfected the art from necessity but never really enjoyed it. It was a tool like any other to get what he wanted.

Raffa stilled, surprised at his blurring thoughts. He didn’t want to kiss Lily Nolan. The idea was farcical.

He wanted to understand her. Label and catalogue her so she no longer took up even a scintilla of his brain space. Then he’d move on to more important things.

Yet now he’d provoked a reaction he wanted more. Contempt welled. Had he turned into what he’d always abhorred? A wealthy man so self-absorbed his only delight was toying with others?

‘You have scruples, Ms Nolan.’

She strode back to stand close, hands on her hips.

‘There are lines I won’t cross, Signor Petri. Breaking the law is one.’

Spoken like a woman who’d never experienced real need. Raffa’s mouth tightened. He knew precisely the depths to which poverty and desperation could drive people.

Or was that the excuse he used to justify his past?

‘Not even for money?’

Those eyes weren’t muddy brown now. They looked almost pure amber, rimmed with honey brown, and they met his with quiet certainty. ‘Not even for money.’

Slowly he nodded. ‘Good. Then presumably you can’t be bought by a competitor to betray confidential information.’

A furrow appeared on her forehead. ‘Was all this some elaborate test of my honesty?’

Raffa shrugged. Easier to let her believe his interest was so straightforward than try to explain something he didn’t understand himself.

If her report was insufficient, he’d have to ignore his prejudice and hire a detective. At least now he wouldn’t be sucked in by nebulous ‘promising leads’ that required just a little more time to produce results.

Years ago, when he’d begun making decent money, he’d spent lavishly on fruitless investigations. Older than his years in most ways, his desperation to find the man responsible for his sister’s death had made him gullible in this one area.

Now he knew better. He didn’t trust investigators.

He didn’t trust anyone.

Raffa pushed his chair back and stood. ‘We’ll meet when you’ve completed your initial report.’

By that time this fascination would have worn off. She’d be just another employee.

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_6b3b2ee9-f0e1-5728-8e4e-9fd8893f4ed6)

THERE WAS NO SOUND, no disturbance, but suddenly Lily knew she was no longer alone.

Her spine tingled from her scalp to her tailbone. Her skin drew tight and she realised she’d frozen, fingers on the keyboard, waiting.

Slowly she lifted her head.

There he was, one shoulder propped against the doorjamb, legs casually crossed at the ankles. The only man whose presence she could sense with unerring accuracy.

Every time.

Even before he looked at her.

Even when he never looked at her.

It was a sixth sense, something primitive, buried so deep in her animal instinct as to be inexplicable. Yet it happened whenever Raffaele Petri got near. Lily was always the first to notice his presence. Her senses were on alert when he was nearby, even if he wasn’t talking to her.

Now he watched her with a heavy-lidded look that made her blood surge.

She’d thought him stunning in the casual trousers and jackets he wore in the office. But in formal clothes... Her eyes widened. He looked like some sinfully gorgeous fallen angel wearing a tuxedo and a lazy half smile. The bow tie loose around his collar added a decadently raffish air.

‘Working late again?’

Lily nodded and cleared her throat. Ridiculous that he had this effect after more than a month, but there was no mistaking the excited pump of her heart or that sudden breathlessness.

It did no good to tell herself millions of other women had the same reaction. Or that she made a fool of herself. All she could do was ensure no one, most especially the man before her, guessed.

‘But obviously not to impress the boss.’ He crossed his arms but Lily kept her eyes on his face, refusing to dwell on the way the gesture emphasised the impressive symmetry of his broad-shouldered, slim-hipped frame.

‘You think not?’ Her voice worked after all.

What she’d give for an interruption! These days other members of staff were in and out of her office regularly. To her surprise, after their initial shock they’d accepted her as one of the team—so different from her other work experiences. Maybe because she’d been so focused on this project she hadn’t had the leisure to stress about their reactions?

Yet a frantic glance through the glass walls told her they were alone. Everyone had gone home long ago.

‘I know not.’ He straightened and, to her alarm, stepped into her office.

‘You’re a mind-reader now too?’ The words blurted out.

‘In addition to what?’ He stopped a couple of paces from her desk, sucking all the oxygen out of her office. ‘No, don’t tell me. I’ll enjoy the challenge of working it out.’

Lily sat back, letting her hands drop to her lap. His words were light, as if he viewed their interactions as some sort of game.

Well, she wasn’t playing.

Especially since his light tone didn’t match that assessing scrutiny.

‘How do you know I’m not trying to impress you with my diligence?’ Better to stick to concrete issues than try to guess what was going on in that brilliant, convoluted mind.

He shrugged, the fluid movement innately Italian.

‘You never look to me for approval. You don’t hang about my office asking questions or showing off your success with what you’ve unearthed about Bradshaw.’

Lily’s mouth twitched, a smile hovering at the implication he’d been impressed. But she was too much on edge to allow her lips to curve up. If she let down her guard with this man, she sensed she might never be able to resurrect it.

No matter how charming he could be, Raffaele Petri was dangerous. He’d forced her here. He’d unleashed a sexual awareness in her that terrified her. Every day and every night he’d loomed in her thoughts, a forbidden temptation when she should have been focusing on work or sleep or anything but mortifyingly sensual imaginings.

‘You see the end results anyway.’ Carefully she laced her fingers together as if relaxed. ‘What would be the point of hanging around your office showing off every little success?’

Those sculpted lips stretched in a smile that tugged a sexy crease down one tanned cheek.

Heat drilled from Lily’s lungs to her belly, cramping her abdominal muscles and stirring sexual arousal, instant and unmistakable.

That was why she needed to be vigilant. Raffaele Petri didn’t just have the power to make or break her. He made her crave things that were impossible.

‘You’re paying for the best.’ It had taken her a long time to develop self-confidence about her work and she refused to play coy about something that meant so much. ‘I’m not so needy I require a pat on the head every time I do well.’

If she’d aimed to deflect his attention she’d erred. Instead of backing off, he surveyed her through narrowed eyes.

‘Sometimes it’s not about a pat on the head,’ he murmured. ‘Sometimes people just want my attention.’

Lily looked up into that bright, deliberate gaze, sifting his words.

Seeking attention.

From him.

Why? As soon as she asked the question she had the answer. Because they were attracted to him. Because they wanted him to notice them, respond to them. Just as a tiny, unstoppable part of her had fantasised he might—

She moved so abruptly her chair slid back from the desk, rolling till it crashed into the wall.

Lily found herself standing, her stomach churning so hard she tasted bile. He’d touched too close to her own secret desires and made them seem all the more pathetic. As if he suspected the attraction she couldn’t quell.

Her right hand lifted in that old, compulsive gesture she’d taken years to vanquish. At the last moment, just before her fingers reached her scarred face, she remembered, forcing it back down, planting both palms on her desk. Her hands were damp against the wood, her throat jammed with distress.

It wasn’t just that Raffaele Petri would never find her attractive. No man would.

She was experienced enough to accept that, after several painful experiences where she’d tentatively reached out to a man and had to endure horrified, embarrassed rejection. Yet some foolish part of her still fantasised.

It wasn’t him she was angry with, but herself.

‘You mean they want you to notice them because they’re attracted to you?’ Her voice was raw, stretched tight.

‘It’s been known to happen.’ Again that fluid shrug, but she was beyond noticing how appealing it was. She was too caught up with the burn of shame and self-consciousness.

‘You’re annoyed I haven’t fallen over myself to get your attention?’ She almost choked on the words. Pride was her only lifeline and she clung to it tenaciously. ‘You do realise there are some people who aren’t bowled over by your beauty, Signor Petri?’ Her tone made it clear she was one of them.

If only that were true! Daily exposure to Raffaele Petri had done nothing to inoculate her against his golden good looks. Instead it had given her a respect for his incisive decision-making and his ability to get the best out of his team. She’d discerned fairness and even a self-deprecating humour she found far too appealing.

The sound of laughter sliced her thoughts. Rich and warm, it encircled her like a caress. There was nothing calculated about it, or about his expression, and Lily had the impression that for a moment she saw Raffaele Petri as few did. For, despite his approachability to his staff, he usually exuded a sense of being utterly self-contained.

‘You’re absolutely right, Lily.’ Her pulse gave a throb of pleasure at the sound of her name in that deep, lush voice. ‘And an antidote to my overblown ego. Not everyone finds me attractive. It’s good to know you’re one of them. It makes working together much simpler.’