Best of Bosses 2008(26)

‘There was something else.’

‘What?’ She paused with the chopsticks held over her bowl.

‘You know my grandmother’s coming over from Milan at the weekend?’

She nodded.

‘It’s for our family birthdays.’

She frowned. ‘Birthdays? Sorry, I’m not with you. Are you saying you have an official birthday as well as a normal one—like the Queen?’

He choked. ‘Not quite. My sisters and I,’ he said, doing his best impersonation of the Queen’s opening to her Christmas speech, ‘well, our birthdays are all within a fortnight of each other. Four family parties in that short a space of time is a bit excessive, even for my family. So we tend to celebrate them all at one really big family party.’

‘Makes sense. Though I do hope you celebrate individually, as well.’

‘Yes.’ Well, the girls did. He hadn’t bothered, the last couple of years, though he’d invented dinner out with friends so his parents wouldn’t worry about him. ‘I was wondering if you’re busy, a week on Saturday. If you’d like to come to the party.’

Her eyes widened, but he couldn’t quite read her expression: horror or delight?

‘Me?’ she asked.

Surprise, then. Well, he could work with surprise. ‘Yup. I can guarantee the food’ll be good.’

‘And your birthday is when, exactly?’

He coughed. ‘In the next fortnight.’

‘That’s approximate. I asked for exact.’

‘Are you coming to the party?’ he asked, trying to evade the question.

‘Are you going to tell me when your birthday is?’

He scooped more food into his bowl. ‘You’re not supposed to answer a question with a question. It’s rude.’

She smiled at him. ‘Of course, as the office manager, I have access to the personnel records. So if you don’t tell me, I can simply go into the system and look it up for myself.’

‘That,’ Gio said, ‘is flagrant abuse under the Data Protection Act, Francesca Marsden. It’s illegal.’

‘I could still do it. Or…I could ask your mother.’ Fran was inexorable.

He knew when he was beaten. He leaned back in his chair. ‘All right. It’s next Wednesday.’

‘Thank you.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘I think it’s your turn to answer the question.’

‘Thank you for the invitation.’

He really couldn’t tell if her answer was going to be yes or no, and he was shocked by the way his skin suddenly felt too tight. It really shouldn’t matter whether she said yes or no.

But it did.

It mattered a lot.

He wanted her there.

‘I’d love to come,’ she said softly.

Which was when Gio realised that he’d actually been holding his breath.

Oh, lord. He was already in way too deep.

‘What’s the dress code?’ she asked.

He spread his hands. ‘Whatever. It’s a party. Wear what you want.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Men. Do I have to ask your mother?’

‘I’m beginning to think,’ Gio said, ‘that’s you’re just as scary as Mum, Nonna and Netti rolled into one.’ But she’d said yes, so far.

Would she say yes to the next question?

‘There’s, um, a bit more.’ He took a deep breath. So much for thinking he’d felt tense before. What he was feeling right at that moment was G-force tension—the sort you got on one of those rollercoasters that sent you round a corkscrew spiral and then round a series of loops. ‘I love my grandmother.’

Her smile definitely said, I already know that. Are you going batty or something?

‘And because she lives in Italy, I don’t get to see as much of her as I’d like. I speak to her a couple of times a week, but it’s not the same as seeing her.’

Fran stopped eating, rested her elbows on the table and propped her chin on her linked hands. ‘It’s not like you to beat about the bush. What’s up?’

There wasn’t an easy way to put it. And however he phrased it, it was going to sound wrong. ‘You know my family has this thing about wanting me to settle down—especially Nonna?’

‘Ye-es.’

She sounded extremely cautious, and Gio just knew she was going to say no. But he asked anyway. ‘Would you pretend to be my girlfriend while Nonna’s in England?’





CHAPTER SEVEN




‘LET me get this straight.’ Fran wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. ‘You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend while your grandmother’s visiting.’

He nodded. ‘No strings. If you say no, that’s fine—it won’t change anything between us at work.’