Visconti's Forgotten Heir(20)

Listening to her speaking to his colleagues and clients over the phone this morning, he had been impressed with her charm and her efficiency. But there was something about her. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on...

His call took too long and she was already in the hall by the time he was able to join her.

‘My grandmother,’ he informed her, noticing her interest in the small oval framed oil painting hanging above one of the Georgian tables. ‘As a young woman.’

‘She was very beautiful.’

‘Yes.’

‘Is she still—?’ She broke off, as though deciding it was too imprudent to ask.

‘No,’ he informed her. ‘She died last year in Italy, without a day’s illness, after a very long and active eighty-nine years.’

The eyes that met his were dark and guarded. ‘I’m sorry—and about your father too.’

‘Yes.’ He exhaled deeply as he said it. ‘So am I.’

‘What happened?’ she asked, sounding as tentative as her eyes were wary.

‘A heart attack.’

‘When?’

‘Six years ago.’

‘Six years...’ He saw her velvety brows come together. ‘When you were in America?’

‘Before I left,’ he told her succinctly.

What he didn’t add was that it had been only hours after she’d been round to see him and they had parted for the final time. Or that they had been arguing because of her. The remorse and regret he carried because of it were constant companions deep within him, along with the scouring knowledge that if he had listened to his father the man would probably still be alive today.

Her frown was deepening and she started to say something else, but he cut across her. ‘Let’s have done with the reminiscing, shall we?’ he said abruptly.

* * *

‘I’m going to be working at home for the next week or so,’ Andreas told her as he brought the Mercedes to a standstill outside her flat that evening. ‘And as you don’t have your own transport—’ he had already learned that she didn’t own a car ‘—I think it would be far more convenient if you stayed there too.’

About to get out of the car, Magenta viewed him with disbelief. ‘You didn’t say anything about staying under your roof when I agreed to take this job.’

Clicking on the handbrake, he turned off the engine before swivelling round on his seat to face her. ‘Well, I’m saying it now. I’ve got several meetings, all based within a twenty-mile radius on the wrong side of the office, and I’m afraid I’m going to need you with me for at least two of them. Those are the terms.’

‘Does your usual PA—or any of your other staff,’ she tagged on, thinking of the obviously smitten Lana Barleythorne, ‘always bow to your command and move in with you whenever you snap your fingers?’

‘I’m hardly snapping my fingers, so don’t go convincing yourself you have no choice in the matter,’ he advised, effectively taking her down a peg. ‘And I think you need reminding that you aren’t my regular PA—or any other loyal and long-standing member of my workforce.’ His tone implied that she was never likely to be. ‘So stop making a fuss, pack a bag, and I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow morning. After all, you told me your son’s away, so it isn’t as though there’s anyone you have to get back for. Or is there?’ he enquired, with curiosity suddenly underlying the cynicism in his voice.

‘I don’t really think that’s any of your concern,’ Magenta retaliated, and immediately wished she hadn’t. If he hadn’t offered her this extremely well-paid position then she and Theo would have been out on the street at the end of next month. ‘Will there be anything else?’ She almost added, sir, but decided that might be pushing things a little too far.

‘Yes. It’s promising to be a sizzling week ahead, so bring a swimsuit,’ he instructed, causing Magenta’s stomach to flip as she stepped out of the car.

Somehow, she thought, letting herself in through the rickety metal gate, she didn’t think he was just talking about the weather.





CHAPTER FOUR


A CHAUFFEUR-DRIVEN car arrived for Magenta at eight o’clock sharp the following morning. A long, dark saloon with tinted windows. She knew it would start the neighbours speculating, even without the dark uniformed man who rang her bell.

‘Mr Visconti has an early appointment and won’t be around until later, but I’m to take you to the house and see that you’re settled in before he gets in.’

‘Thank you,’ Magenta said, stepping through the back passenger door with a little pang of misgiving. This was certainly some way to travel. But she was beginning to feel more like some rich man’s mistress than a temporary personal assistant, and with a little tingle of something she didn’t want to question too fully she considered that that was probably exactly what Andreas was intending her to feel.