Page 29 of The Boss's Forbidden Assistant

‘That’s true,’ she agreed eagerly. ‘But again, I checked. There are six items that are most commonly ordered between those hours. The kitchen could run a limited overnight menu, as lots of hotels do, and cut overnight staffing costs by more than half, without affecting guest satisfaction. A more substantial minibar offering would also meet late-night cravings, and as you know the profit margin for minibars is huge.’

‘You enjoy this.’ It was a statement, not a question.

‘Yes.’ It was like being jolted out of a dream. Harper blinked and looked around them, realising that she was talking to one of the most successful businessmen in the world, as if he wouldn’t already know how to maximise profits. ‘Anyway,’ she said with a shrug. ‘I’m sure I’m not telling you anything you haven’t already realised.’

He was silent, watchful, and she was glad when her coffee arrived because it gave her something to do with her hands. Salvador turned to the waiter. ‘We’ll take a couple of menus, thanks.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Oh.’ Harper’s cheeks flushed. ‘I’m not—I don’t think—’

‘I’m hungry,’ he said with a steely look in his eyes. ‘You must be as well. Besides, it makes sense to sample the hotel food.’

But consternation flooded Harper. She couldn’t do this. It was all too complicated, with too many layers of competing wants, needs and dangers.

‘I—’

‘It’s just dinner.’

‘But it’s not,’ she said with an exasperated shake of her head. ‘Let’s at least call a spade a spade.’

‘We’ve eaten together before.’

‘That was before.’

‘Before what?’

‘Greece.’

His expression barely shifted but she saw the tightness around his eyes and felt the air between them hum. The waiter appeared with menus, but even that didn’t break the tension.

‘Thank you,’ Harper murmured, barely lifting her eyes from Salvador’s face.

When they were alone again, he put his hand on the table top, extending his fingers then squeezing them into a fist before relaxing them again. He looked as though he wanted to say something, or maybe as though he desperately didn’t, so she waited, wondering, and finally he spoke.

‘My wife died a year ago,’ he said quietly. ‘But I can’t stop feeling guilty for wanting you like this.’ It was so honest—so wrenchingly honest. She felt his grief and wanted to wrap her arms around him, to tell him everything would be okay, even when she didn’t know if it would be. She settled for reaching over and putting her hand on his in a spontaneous gesture of comfort. It felt so important, so right.

‘I’m very sorry for your loss, Mr da Rocha.’

He lifted a single dark brow.

‘Salvador,’ she supplied with a frown. Then, because she was a glutton for punishment, ‘You must have loved her very much.’

‘I’d known her for a long time,’ he said after a pause. ‘We were friends, as children. She moved to Italy as a teenager, but we wrote to each other.’

She nodded slowly. And then they’d fallen in love. It was so...romantic. Jealousy was unmistakable. She wished she didn’t feel it, but it was clawing through her.

Salvador stared directly at her, almost through her. Harper shivered. There was so much emotion, so much pain, in the man. She didn’t know what to say or how to comfort him, except by sharing some of her own pain to show that he wasn’t completely alone.

‘My mother is in a nursing home,’ she said slowly, the words not ones she formed often. When was the last time she’d spoken about this to anyone besides Amanda?

‘She had a stroke seven years ago. It left her partially paralysed. Then, two years after that, a series of strokes left her with brain damage.’ Harper’s voice quivered a little. She couldn’t meet Salvador’s eyes. ‘Her condition is unpredictable.’ She lifted her shoulders. ‘Some days, she seems to recognise my voice, to know who I am. Other times, like today, there are no lights on.’

Harper shook her head. ‘My mother was one of the most fiercely intelligent women you’ve ever met. Funny, charismatic and so utterly beautiful. She was like a fairy or a ballerina, something out of a story book. I used to love watching her get ready for shows—she was an actress,’ Harper explained. ‘I grew up back stage in the theatres, watching her perform.’ A cloud crossed her features then, darkening the lights from within her own eyes. ‘It’s very difficult to see her like this.’

‘You call her every day?’ he prompted.

She nodded, unable to speak.

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