Page 13 of The Housekeeper and the Brooding Billionaire

‘My compliments. This is excellent.’ He took another mouthful and another, suddenly realising he was ravenous. He broke off some bread. ‘Sit and tell me about yourself. Why you want to work here.’

She took the seat opposite, her posture erect. ‘As I told Anna—’

‘Anna’s not here. Just tell me what I need to know.’

He had faith in Anna, but reserved the right to his own judgement. After all, it was his privacy being impinged on.

‘I’m English, but I’ve worked most of my career in Switzerland. I began in ski chalets. I have experience in housekeeping, reception and management. I—’

‘Why not work in Britain? Don’t you miss family and friends?’

Alessio watched her eyes narrow and her brow furrow until that blank, professional expression returned. ‘My mother’s dead, and I’m not close to my father. I found good opportunities in Europe and took them because my career is important to me.’

What did that tell him? She didn’t have strong ties to her family. She was focused on success. He had to admire that—it was something they shared.

Yet working here was an unusual choice. He couldn’t shake the suspicion she was here for more than work. To pry and sell a behind-the-scenes exposé?

Yet she’d signed a nondisclosure agreement. He’d checked today and found the document from his lawyers.

‘You see yourself managing a significant hotel? Is that your goal?’

She shrugged. ‘I’d like to work for myself eventually.’

‘Surely a job like this doesn’t fit your career plan.’

‘I didn’t answer an ad. A friend recommended me to someone Anna knew.’

Alessio put down his spoon and took a slow sip of wine. A personal recommendation rather than the usual process? ‘Is that how you get your jobs, personal recommendations?’

She wasn’t a stunning beauty, but there was something about Charlotte Symonds that attracted male attention. Attracted even his, which until today, he’d thought impossible.

Had she won jobs throughpersonalfavours? The delicious flavours on his tongue turned sour.

He would have sworn his expression was unreadable, yet it seemed she’d read his thoughts. ‘Not in the way you’re thinking.’

Her chin tilted, and she regarded him as imperiously as his Great-Aunt Beatrice, the tyrant who terrified the younger generations of the Dal Lago family. No one else would dare look at him that way, yet he felt no anger. He’d take offence if someone implied such a thing about his success.

‘You don’t know what I’m thinking.’

‘I take my work and reputation very seriously.’ Those blue eyes fixed on his unwaveringly. ‘I’ve won every job on merit. It’s not surprising I receive personal recommendations when I do my job well. Surely you find the same in business, that those who excel are recommended?’

Alessio nodded. ‘So why this position? It’s not an obvious stepping stone for a career in hotels. Plus it’s only for a short time.’

She eased back in her seat. ‘I need to practice my Italian. My next position is in Venice. And...’

‘Go on.’

‘And I was ready to move on to something new.’ Still Alessio waited. There had to be more. Finally she shrugged, her gaze flicking away, then back again. ‘You must know your reputation. Working for you, even for a few months, will be impressive on my resume.’

He’d long since ignored the outrageous stories told about him, yet he found he still had pride enough to be annoyed. ‘Because surviving to tell the tale will prove how good you are? Because I’m such a monster?’

That’s what some labelled him.

Her eyes rounded. ‘No! Nothing like that.’ She drew a deep breath that pressed her breasts against her crisp white blouse. ‘I meant your reputation for insisting on the finest. Your auction house is renowned for quality, and so is your personal taste. You only employ the best experts.’ She shook her head. ‘I never meant...’

‘It’s all right, Ms Symonds. I understand.’

Only too well. He really had been mired in his own dark thoughts too long.

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