Page 11 of Boss Unyielding (Boss 1)

“No no, Bellissima. I am a designer,” was his response.

She was willing to bet he was a good one if his own attire was any indication. Clothes may not have made the man, but they could sure make a man look hot.

She stepped aside and held the door open, gesturing for him to come in.

As he walked into the spacious, luxurious, grand hotel room, which she could hardly believe Rayner had reserved just for her, he held up the garment bag that had previously been draped over his left arm and hung it on a hook that protruded from the back of the door that led to the bedroom. He unzipped the bag and peeled it off the clothes that hung inside.

“So, how do you know Mr. Rayner?” Farren asked, following him as he opened the door to the bedroom and made his way to the large closet, from which he rolled out a clothing rack. He certainly seemed like a take-charge kind of guy, Farren thought.

“Rogan and I, we go way back. He and I met through a mutual acquaintance while he was here on business several years ago. He always has me dressing his women for him when he is in town,” he said, while moving the clothes from the door peg to the clothing rack and spreading them out on the bar.

He began pulling garments, one by one, and holding them up to her body. Each time, he nodded his approval, as though he were checking to see if they looked like they’d fit, or maybe if the colors went with her dark hair and creamy skin tone.

His admission about dressing Rayner’s women, she had to admit, stung a little bit, though she knew it shouldn’t be a surprise. Rayner had enough women on his hook, she didn’t bother keeping up with them anymore. Sure, he was discreet about all of them, and probably had to be if he didn’t want them killing each other, she guessed. But Rayner did have an undeniable appeal.

“Oh, I’m not one of his women. I’m just his… assistant. Or something like that,” she explained as she tried to hold her arms out to make Bartolo’s process a little easier for him.

She could see a light come on behind his eyes when he paused and looked up at her.

“Oh, really? That is... interesting,” was his response.

Was it? She wondered.

He went back to eyeing the outfits he continued to switch out and hold up against her body, pulling her long strands of hair across the front of them from time to time.

“Yes, these should all work beautifully. You are a very beautiful woman, Bellissima,” he said after he hung the last article of clothing back on the rack and turned to face her. He took her hand in his again, but this time, instead of bringing it to his lips for a kiss, he held it between his own.

Farren felt the heat tinting her cheeks at the flattering comment and the intimate gesture. It was especially complimentary coming from Bartolo, who she thought was insanely hot. Almost as hot as Rayner.

“Thank you,” she said, unsure of what else to say.

“Please say you will indulge me in a dinner before you leave. I would very much like to show a beautiful woman around my beautiful city.”

Wow, she thought. He was asking to take her out? She could only imagine what that would entail, and she couldn’t deny that a part of her wanted to go.

“I don’t know, Mr. Bianchi. I’m not sure Mr. Rayner would approve. I’m supposed to be here for work,” she explained.

“Surely Rogan can spare you for one night. Please do not break my heart, Bellissima. Tell me you’ll join me for wine and a meal before you leave.”

He was persistent, she’d give him that.

“I’ll have to ask Mr. Rayner first to make sure he doesn’t need me to work on anything, or at least which night would work best,” she insisted.

“Very well. I will leave you with my card. I hope to receive your call very soon.”

At that, he brought her hand back up for a kiss, and she walked him to the door. Once he left, she went to sit on the large, Italian Leather sofa sitting in the middle of the spacious living room and replayed that whole scene in her mind.

Who gets asked out by a hot, Italian designer on her first day in Italy, without even leaving her hotel room? A good designer, at that, judging from the collection he had just stocked her wardrobe with.

She looked around, wondering if this was real, or if she was on some crazy, hidden camera, reality show. She was pretty sure Ashton Kutcher had retired from his notorious gig, but she half expected someone to jump out from behind the curtains telling her she’d been pranked.

When her hotel room phone rang, it startled her back into the present reality. She shot up, went to the table it sat on, and answered.

“Hello?”

“Miss Fields, we’ll be leaving in an hour for our meeting this evening. I trust you’ll be ready?”

Rogan’s deep, familiar voice came through the receiver, and it had her breath catching in her throat.

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