Page 12 of Boss Unyielding (Boss 1)

“Yes sir. I, um… I had a visit from Bartolo Bianchi. Is there anything in particular you need me to wear tonight?”

“Dress to impress. It’s not a formal event, but you’ll need to make a good first impression,” he instructed.

“Okay, thanks. I’ll be ready.”

She hung up the phone and walked back into the bedroom to the rack of clothes. Browsing through the outfits, she decided on a pantsuit with some understated but classy embellishments. She thought it looked professional and would help her get the “take me seriously” message across. She figured no one would pay her any mind anyway, honestly, but the last thing she wanted was to be underestimated as being a beauty without a brain.

This would be perfect.

When she pulled that particular outfit from the rack, she saw a small, velvet bag attached to the hanger that she hadn’t noticed before. She opened it to find hand-picked accessories that, upon inspection, she realized complemented the outfit perfectly.

Damn, she thought. Bartolo was definitely worth his salt, as Gramma would say. This guy was legit, and she made a mental note to Google him later when she had the chance. She didn’t even want to think about how much all these clothes and accessories must have cost Rayner, though it was probably a drop in the ocean for him.

By the end of the hour, she was ready to go, so she grabbed her room key and made her

way to Rayner’s room across and down the hall on the same floor.

She gave a tentative knock, unsure of why her nerves suddenly pooled in heavy knots in her stomach. She could hear the sound of metal clanking when he unlocked the door and pulled it open. She was immediately struck by the soft, masculine scent of his cologne, as if the smell itself were fingers that reached out and stroked her senses, beckoned to her as she inhaled him from where she stood. And for a fraction of a second, she thought she saw Rayner’s eyes look her body up and down, so subtle and quick that she wondered if her mind was playing tricks on her.

“Come in. I’m almost ready,” he said in his deep, brusque voice as he turned and strode back into the room.

She followed, unable to keep from glancing at the way his black suit-pants hung on his thick, muscular glutes. Her mouth watered, and she felt the need to scold herself for her involuntary, secret thoughts.

“Will there be food at this meeting tonight? I’m kind of starving,” she said, trying to distract herself with some casual conversation.

“It’s Italy. There’s always food,” he quipped, looking up at her with a humorous smile that crinkled the outer corners of his eyes.

It was her favorite smile, and usually meant he was in a good mood. Not just a good mood, but his best mood. That was a good sign, she thought, since she always felt a little guilty when his Insensitive Ass-hole persona made an appearance while she was around. Not that she didn’t think it was usually justified, at least in most cases, but she could sympathize with being on the receiving end of it. She knew how humiliating it could be.

“Good, because if I go too much longer, I think my stomach might start eating itself.”

“Then you’d better hold off on the wine. The last thing I need is my hired help making a fool of herself, and me, by getting drunk before the first course.”

He gave her a stern look, but she could still see the mirth that resided behind his deep, blue eyes.

“Yes sir,” she said with a salute of her hand to her forehead.

It irritated her slightly that he had offhandedly referred to her as his hired help, but she buried it for now and went with the good feelings he seemed to be riding on at the moment, while she could.

He tightened his tie, straightened his black-rimmed glasses, gave himself a final once-over in the large, ornate mirror he stood in front of in the seating area, and turned to her with a spin.

“Ready to go?”

NINE

It had been fifteen minutes since Farren had stepped out into the lobby of the country-club type setting their meeting had taken place in, and she had begun wondering if she shouldn’t just figure out her own way home for the night.

The meeting had gone without a hitch, as expected. Rayner had gone in and charmed everyone with his take-charge approach and expert authority, as usual. Farren had a minimal role in the presentation, since her work was more behind the scenes, but it was important for her to be there, to know what her next steps would be. After the presentation, though, she had a front-row seat for the show that was Rayner’s seduction of the business-owner’s daughter.

At first, it was subtle: a brush of the arm, his hand placed strategically at the small of her back, and that certain way he had about him when she looked into his eyes. Barf.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t as disgusting as she would have liked it to have been. Maybe she just didn’t want to admit that a larger part than she felt comfortable with wondered what it would be like for him to touch her that way, or look at her that way.

Or kiss her that way! She thought, as the elevator doors opened from across the lobby to reveal Rayner and the thin, willowy, Italian beauty in a passionate embrace. His mouth pressed so sensually to the woman’s, so pliant and soft, yet so in control. It certainly didn’t take him long, did it?

Farren rolled her eyes and decided to study the grooves in the slate tiled floor beneath her feet. She thought she had come down here to get away from seeing all that. Turns out, it had followed her, first as ghosts that infiltrated and haunted her thoughts, and now right here before her in the flesh.

Rayner said his goodbyes to the woman, carrying on a conversation with her in fluid Italian. Maybe she didn’t speak English. Maybe he didn’t want Farren understanding what he was saying, which she didn’t. She was sure whatever it was, it was silvery-smooth, rolling off his tongue like silk. Finally, he pulled himself away and said what sounded like his goodbyes.

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