She had to do it, Carrie determined, stuffing the magazine back in its net. Staring out of the window, she tried to distract herself. She could see the bright blue ocean far below dotted with tiny boats and, in the distance, the coastline of Niroli, edged with pale golden sand. The island looked so tranquil from the sky she didn’t want to think about the drama that was about to unfold, but she wouldn’t dodge it, either. There was some irony in the situation. When Nico had hired her he’d said it was her quiet perseverance that had brought her to his notice, and now that same determination was about to be turned against him….
She was pregnant because they’d had sex at the office party. It was such a cliché, she could hardly believe it herself, but she had always been ready for Nico; he’d only had to look at her a certain way. She had been hovering on the fringes of the party with a wineglass in her hand. She wasn’t good at small talk, the words would never come quickly enough, and if they did, they were invariably the wrong words. People couldn’t be bothered to wait while she tried to find something witty or fascinating to say. She hadn’t drunk a lot, just a glass or two of wine. In fact, she had been wondering how soon she could slip away without causing offence. It had been during one of those ‘poised for flight’ moments that Nico had sought her out.
‘All alone, Carrie?’
Her heart performed a perfect somersault. Nico Fierezza had never spoken to her outside office hours. Yet he’d been there standing right next to her, so close she could smell his cologne and could separate each complex note: musk, sandalwood, vanilla and an additional edge of something that hinted of warm water and toothpaste and long, hot, soapy showers—
‘Daydreaming?’ He’d broken into her thoughts with that low, husky voice that’d always made her tremble inwardly when she was taking notes for him.
‘That’s not like you, Carrie,’ he’d observed.
The note of censure had made her stare up into slate-blue eyes she had never felt brave enough to study before. Then she’d seen they had a striking pewter ring around the iris and that the whites were very white against his tan.
‘I’ve been watching you….’
The fact that he’d even noticed her was news, indeed, and the touch of humour in his voice had ensured that her attention remained fixed to his face. But, as usual, nothing sparkling had flown to her lips. It’d been the most exciting moment of her life and she’d been speechless. She’d taken in Nico’s lashes, so long and thick and black like the stubble on his cheeks, and then her pulse had gone wild when he’d smiled into her eyes.
‘Are you all right? Can I get you something before we land?’
Shocked into the present, Carrie gasped out loud. She had been gripping the seat arms, she realised, which the flight attendant had mistaken for nerves. ‘Nothing, nothing, thank you….’
As the woman walked away Carrie tried to shut the memories out, but Nico’s voice was in her head…Nico teasing her, Nico telling her she was his strait-laced secretary with the big innocent eyes and there were questions he wanted answered…She was spellbound that he was interested in anything other than her secretarial skills. And then he’d said something extraordinary: ‘You must know you’ve been under my wing since you got here….’
Under Nico’s wing? Her mind went into free fall. She’d hoarded up each time he’d smiled at her like a miser hoarding gold, but she’d always believed he was encouraging her to do better, to work harder….
‘I love your modesty,’ he’d gone on. ‘I find subtlety in a woman incredibly attractive….’
Attractive? Nico found her attractive? His words had echoed in her head like a siren call. And then she’d found her voice, but only to stutter clumsily, ‘I’ve not…I mean, I’m not…’
‘If I’ve got this wrong just say the word…’ His voice had been teasing.
What word? None came to mind.
‘I want you, Carrie….’
The moment he’d said that she was lost. She wanted Nico so badly it hurt. And then he’d leaned back against the wall, his timing impeccable. She had been so sure he was about to take her in his arms that she swayed towards him, which was all the answer Nico had been looking for.
She might have made a sound when he’d removed the wineglass from her hand, but she was certainly struck dumb when he’d taken her from the party, lead her by the hand across the room. She’d followed him willingly; she would have followed him anywhere.
When they’d reached the boardroom he’d shut and locked the door. Then, gathering her to him, he’d used the lightest and most persuasive touch on her arms as if asking her permission to go further. She’d given it gladly. He hadn’t needed to ask, her body’d melted like candle wax. She’d not only been willing, she’d been eager to serve. Nico Fierezza was a god amongst men. He was the only man she had ever wanted and it’d been a dream come true. He could have done anything with her.