Bought by Her Italian Boss(19)

"Be careful, Gwyn," Vittorio said with gentle gravity, holding her gaze.

She scanned for hazards the children might tip before meeting his gaze again, confused.

He wore the tough, circumspect look of the man who'd first stared her down in Nadine Billaud's office.

"This is not our life," he said in the same temperate tone. "Not yours. Not mine. So stop thinking it will happen."

She was far too transparent around him. It was achingly painful to be  this obvious, especially when he had touched her so intimately they were  practically lovers, then shot down her dreams so dispassionately,  leaving her nursing a giant ache that hollowed out her chest.

"Not with you, perhaps," she said, lifting her glass and her chin,  holding his gaze even though the locked stare made her stomach cramp.  "But there's no reason I can't have something like this, someday. Is  there?" she challenged.

He might have flinched, but she wasn't sure.

And the silence went on long enough for her to remember her own notoriety. Would anyone want her after this? Ever?

A noise at the door told them the new parents had returned.

Gwyn rose to set two more places, grateful for a reason to turn away and hide that her eyes were welling up.

* * *

"Do you need the address for my flat?" Gwyn asked the driver as they slid into the car the next morning.

"I have it, thank you," the driver assured her as he closed her door for her.

The air was fresh, the sun shining and the children had both hugged her  at the door. Nevertheless, Gwyn's good mood took a dip when Vittorio  made no protest against her going home.

She wasn't about to ask him what he had planned for her, though. She had  lain awake a long time last night considering her options. Her life  wasn't over, she had concluded. It just needed to be re-envisioned.                       
       
           



       

As Vito flicked through messages on his tablet, she took a firm grip on  the future she had outlined for herself. She opened her social media  accounts and started removing objectionable posts. Dear Lord there were  some nasty people out there. Some thought she was a harlot, others  offered to do lewd things to her...

She didn't realize she was making noises like she was being roundly  beaten in a boxing ring until Vito asked sharply, "What are you  reading?"

"I want to connect with a headhunter to start searching out a position  for when this is over." She winced as an invitation to hook up flashed  into her eyes with a photo that couldn't be deleted fast enough. "I have  to clean up my news feeds first, before potential employers look them  over. It's a minefield."

"You don't," he growled, reaching across to click off her phone.  "Plumbers exist to clean up sewage. I've already assigned you a PR  assistant. She'll meet with you this afternoon and scrub all of this."

The last thing she wanted was to accept more generosity from him, but she was too grateful to refuse.

"And I'll see that you have a suitable position when the time comes so  don't put out feelers for a job yet. It sends the wrong message."

"What does 'suitable' mean?"

"Something equivalent or better to the position you had, so you're not  set back in your career. I've discussed it with Paolo and you'll receive  a glowing recommendation, a severance package and a settlement for the  damage caused by our leaving you in the position of working with Jensen  despite having him under investigation. We've agreed that if we had  removed you when we became suspicious, the photos wouldn't have  happened, so we'll be accepting responsibility for that. We'll work out  the exact details once we have Jensen on the ropes."

She blinked, stunned. Inside her chest, her heart rose like the sun from  behind dark mountains, beaming light through her whole being.  Lightness. The weight of being mistrusted lifted and something like hope  dawned in her for the first time since she'd walked into Nadine's  office and seen those photos.

"You believe me?" The words were very tentative. She could barely take it in.

"I do." His expression was grave, but there was a hard light in his  eyes, not hostile, but daunting. It leaned even more impact to his words  as he said, "These actions against you will not go unpunished."

She didn't fear him in that moment, but she recognized that he was a man to be feared.

And she was so relieved to have him on her side, so touched that he  believed her, she grew teary and had to look away, unable to even voice a  heartfelt, Thank you.

"But for now your occupation is 'mistress.'"

She flung her head around to confront him. "Did you say that to make me angry?"

He didn't glance up from flicking the screen on his tablet. "I said it because it's true."

"Oh, well, pray tell, what are the duties of that position? Does it come with benefits?" Shut up, Gwyn.

He took his time letting her regret that impulsive outburst, slowly  lifting his attention to scan her expression while a faint smile played  around his lips.

"Amusing me is your primary function," he said, adding a sardonic, "Check."

Then he had the audacity to let his gaze take a leisurely tour down her  new top. It was a simple low-necked, peach-colored silk with a pleat at  her cleavage. Not particularly sexy, but he seemed to look right through  it, making her breasts feel heavy and her nipples tight. She found  herself pressing her jeans-clad thighs together as a throb hit where  he'd caressed her in this very backseat yesterday.

"We've covered the benefits," he added. "And that you may take advantage of them as often as you see fit."

"And this is supposed to fill up my nine-to-five?" she shot back, trying  to cover her pulsing response, flicking her glance at the closed  privacy screen while she willed her fierce blush to recede.

"I can't make love to you all day, cara. I have responsibilities."

She tried to send him a disgusted glare, but anticipation curled through  her despite herself, melting her insides and turning her on. Yes, his  low voice and sexy promise made her hot, curse him.

"Did you relive it last night?" he asked in a low tone of lusty  pleasure. "I did. I wanted you to come to me, so I could feel you fall  apart like that again. Under me this time."

Her stomach swooped and she turned her face to the window, trying to  hide that she had toyed with the idea of going to him. She had ached  with desire and had had to fight against the urge.                       
       
           



       

"I need to find healthier ways to deal with my situation than cheap sexual gratification," she said.

"Stop calling it cheap." His voice lashed with quick anger, making all the hairs rise on her body.

Now who was angry and who was laughing? She looked back at him and let him see her smug delight in getting a rise out of him.

"I'm sorry," she said with mock regret. "This is becoming quite  expensive for you, isn't it? Because if you won't let me get a real job,  you'll have to cover the lease on my flat." It was a childish jab and  promptly fell flat.

"That's already in the works."

Her smarmy grin fell away.

He smiled at having drawn the wind from her sails. "I've had mistresses  before," he added calmly, sobering a few degrees as he added, "Never one  who has moved in with me, but we have a message to broadcast. I've  assigned you an assistant. She'll send you our calendar shortly."

Moved in? Our calendar?

"I thought I was going back to my flat." She glanced toward the driver who had said he had her address.

"To get your passport and any other personal items you don't want to  leave for the movers. Am I speaking English? Why are you staring at me  like that?"

"When did I agree to move in with you? Do I get my own room?"

"Do you want one?" he asked, sounding oh-so-reasonable against her high  pitch of disbelief, but the knowing slant to his half-closed lids made  the question not just annoying, but far too rhetorical.

She didn't know how to be sophisticated and blasé about agreeing to be  his lover. She was still fighting the longing to. Deep down, however,  she knew she wanted to go to bed with him, and very likely would, which  was the most aggravating part of it all.

Thankfully her phone buzzed. She glanced to see her new assistant was loading her calendar.

Gwyn scanned through, seeing that she had legal meetings, appointments with her PR assistant, stylists, boutiques-

"A spa?" she said sharply to Vito.

"All the women in my family frequent it. Don't worry. It's secure."

Luncheons, dinners-

"Berlin?"

"I have meetings." He shrugged.

London, Paris, back to Milan then three stops in Asia.

"What am I doing while you're working in all these places?" she asked, mind whirling.