Authors: Jan Bowles
Tags: #Romance
Paige felt herself shiver in the seat before concentrating once more on Maisy Collins, who smiled knowingly. “Yeah, he had the very same effect on me when I met him for the first time.” She smiled again. “Still interested in the job, now you know who your new boss will be?”
Paige nodded. “Yes.” This could be the start of a new life. A new life far away from her hometown of LA, which she’d left in a hurry just six days before.
“Would you be willing to sign a confidentiality clause? Mr. Caparelli insists on one for every employee.”
“I don’t have a problem with that.”
“Excellent, and moving on, how much notice are you required to give to your present employer.”
“A month.”
Maisy sucked in a sharp breath. “That could be a sticking point. Mr. Caparelli insists that his new executive personal assistant start on the first of the month. That’s less than three weeks away.”
Shit. I need this goddamned job
.
For her own safety, she’d needed to be as far away from LA as possible. Nolan, her ex-boyfriend, had absconded from Coalinga State Hospital almost a week before, and she knew the first thing he would do was come looking for her.
Again.
She didn’t trust the cops to protect her. Why should she? They hadn’t helped her before. In fact, they didn’t give a shit when, frightened for her own life, she’d dialed 9-1-1.
When she’d found out that Nolan was on the loose, she’d immediately headed straight for a motel, believing it to be far safer than her apartment, and that was where she’d been for the past week. Biding her time, and hoping that he would be arrested sooner rather than later. He hadn’t, but maybe now she didn’t have to worry anymore, because if she got this job, she’d be a thousand miles out of his reach.
She smiled at Maisy and said, “Would two weeks be okay?”
Maisy held out her hand. “Two weeks will be just fine, honey. Do you want me to inform Mr. Caparelli that I’ve found him a new personal assistant?”
Knowing that a weight had been lifted from her mind, Paige took hold of Maisy Collins outstretched hand and shook it enthusiastically. In two weeks time she would be safe, and Nolan would never find her. “Yes please, and thanks for everything.”
* * * *
Leonardo Caparelli lowered the hood on his own personal hypercar and lovingly clicked it shut. He then stroked a soft cloth over the curvaceous carbon-fiber bodywork, enjoying the sensual thrill it gave him. As the owner of the company, he didn’t need to be so hands on, but he enjoyed the tactile feel of his own creation pulsing beneath his fingertips. A Caparelli wasn’t merely a car. Each one was a fire-breathing dragon or raging bull with a personality all its own. People with a passion for cars understood this. The Italians understood this best of all, and he was proud to have Italian blood coursing through his veins. It had been this way for generations. Sadly, some people didn’t share his all-consuming passion, and to them, a car was simply a means of transport. A way of getting from A to B with as little fuss as possible. He pitied such people, because in his mind, they had no soul.
The car wearing his personalized license plate ACCELR8 was the first Caparelli Apollo to roll off the production line, and he’d equipped it to fit his personality. The metallic, graphite paintwork glinted impressively in the afternoon sun, and that color would remain unique to this very car. That was the thing about a Caparelli. Each one was as unique as its owner.
His company, which was founded by his long-dead grandfather when he came across from the old country in 1946, now consisted of a handpicked workforce of one hundred and seventy-three employees. The purpose-built factory, which Leonardo designed himself almost five years ago, was located deep within the picturesque pine forests of Colorado.
An additional factory, which manufactured engines and gearboxes, employed a further fifty-three people. It was situated in the idyllic wine-growing countryside of Tuscany, some twenty miles south of Florence, Italy. His work often required him to travel between the two. Leonardo grinned as he admired the thousand-horsepower supercar for a final time. It was a tough job, but someone had to do it.
Leonardo looked at his hands, which were covered in oil, and then glanced at his watch. Why couldn’t there be thirty hours in each day? The rotation of the earth needed to slow a little, because twenty-four hours simply wasn’t enough. He needed to wash up, because his new executive assistant would be arriving in about twenty minutes. Her name was Paige Palmer, but other than that he had little information to hand. He was a busy man, so he let Maisy Collins at the employment agency deal with such things. Anyway, so long as the girl turned out to be competent at her job, then they’d get along just fine. If not, she’d go the way of the others.
What was it with personal assistants anyway? He’d had four in the last eighteen months.
Checking his watch again, and with time lessening with each heartbeat, he made his way from the garage to the house. He then climbed the stairs and headed for the bathroom. Thinking about it now, the last three assistants had been a complete disaster. Some had left before they’d even settled in, making him wonder if Cherise had played a hand in their sudden departure. She was a spiteful bitch at the best of times, especially when it came to other women, and he was glad their relationship had now ended. He put it down to her supermodel mentality. She’d never done a hard day’s work in her life, and success had come far too easily for her. To Cherise, a broken fingernail constituted a tragedy, and it wouldn’t surprise him to find that she’d taken out her tantrums, of which there were many, on the nearest available female—his personal assistant. Cherise hated other women even sharing the same room with him. Crazy bitch. Leonardo figured he was well rid of her, and he’d never forgive her for her abuse of his trust.
As he dried his hands, he heard a car pull up on the drive, and he guessed his new employee had arrived early. That was a good sign. However, he wouldn’t rush to see her. She’d just have to wait. He remembered his father’s words of wisdom from when he was a small child. Carlo Caparelli would hunker down and whisper in his son’s ear, “Leon, remember this if you remember nothing else. It is always a man’s place to be in charge of a woman, especially in the bedroom.” He adored his father, and was devastated by his sudden death at the age of thirty-seven when he himself was barely ten years old. He didn’t fully understand the implications of his father’s words back then, but he certainly did now, and had done for many years, readily practicing and enjoying his father’s philosophy.
With curiosity getting the better of him, he eased open the bathroom window. What he saw didn’t exactly inspire him. A well-used beige Ford with a U-haul trailer attached to the rear fender lay slumped in the driveway—a dull car, in a dull color. He just hoped its driver showed a little more vitality than her lifeless means of transport. When the door to the geriatric Ford creaked open, he was pleasantly surprised to see a slender, yet well-formed calf make an appearance.
Hmm, interesting
. When the rest of his new employee came into view, he saw no reason to change his opinion. From the restricted angle of the bathroom window, it was hard to get a good look, but as she walked across the graveled driveway, he noticed her gait was distinctly feminine and possessed a certain poise and elegance.
When he heard the doorbell chime, he decided to take a shower. His housekeeper, Marie, would show his new assistant around and keep her entertained until he was ready.
* * * *
While pulling on a fresh white shirt and strapping on his Breitling watch, Leonardo heard the faint sound of voices below. Marie’s quietly spoken words and compliant, friendly nature were familiar to him, and as he made his way down the stairs, the other feminine voice became clearer. It possessed a slight huskiness, which he found sexy. When he pushed open the double doors to the living area, the mystery woman immediately rose from her chair. He liked that. A show of respect was always welcome.
Leonardo held out his hand, and he felt warm tiny fingers slide into his palm. He squeezed them with just enough energy to leave her in no doubt who was in charge.
“Leonardo Caparelli. Good to meet you.”
“Paige Palmer. Good to meet you, too, Mr. Caparelli.”
He liked the formality of her response, vigorously disapproving of employees who became too familiar. If they did, they only did it once. Leonardo’s first view of her through the bathroom window really didn’t do her justice. His new personal assistant was a very attractive young woman. Relatively petite, she stood about five three, and weighed, he guessed, about one hundred and twenty pounds. Stunning, emerald-green eyes held his, making him hold onto her hand a little longer than necessary. Glossy chestnut hair fell about her shoulders, and he liked the way it shimmered slightly as she spoke. Her clothes fitted perfectly, but were clearly off the peg, and not made to measure like his own. Still, what the fuck did he expect? Although he was paying the top rate for a personal assistant, maybe even slightly above, that still meant she couldn’t afford to wear Gucci, Versace, or Jimmy Choo. Now, on the subject of feet, he noticed hers were tiny, and although covered by sensible working shoes, he figured that sexy little toes wriggled in anticipation beneath.
He turned to the housekeeper. “Thank you, Marie. You can go now.”
She deferentially nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Caparelli.” Almost silently she left the living area and unobtrusively closed the double doors behind her.
“How was your trip?”
“Fine, Mr. Caparelli.”
“I see you have a trailer with you. Is that all your worldly possessions?”
“Yes. My rented apartment in LA came fully furnished.”
He nodded. “I see. I’m sure you must be tired after your journey. I’ll get Marvin, Marie’s husband, to show you to your personal accommodation. It’s separate from the main house, allowing you total privacy.”
“Thank you.”
Although appearing confident, Paige also seemed to possess a demure, almost submissive side to her personality. He checked his watch again. This was something he’d investigate further when time wasn’t so pressing. “I have an important business meeting forty-five minutes from now, so I’ll leave you in Marie’s capable hands. Prior to your arrival, I gave her instructions to show you your office and the work diary. I trust she did as I asked?”
“She did, Mr. Caparelli. I didn’t have long to familiarize myself with everything, but I believe I’m almost up to speed.”
“Excellent. Now I suggest you get a good night’s sleep, because business at Caparelli Motors begins early each morning. I take breakfast at six thirty sharp, and I expect you to take it with me.”
Paige glanced at her reflection in the mirror as she brushed her hair. She still saw traces of tiredness around her eyes, but that was hardly surprising since the digital clock on the wall flashed 5:40 a.m. Eager to make a good impression, she wanted to arrive early for breakfast and make sure she was up to speed on the first day in her new job.
Still looking in the mirror, she idly traced the flesh above her breasts before pushing the disturbing thoughts from her mind. Time was a great healer, and she hoped her physical as well as mental scars would slowly diminish.
Back home in Los Angeles, she’d been attending law school for the last three years, taking night classes most evenings after work. Being a personal assistant was okay, but she wanted more from life. Her dream was to become a lawyer, and it had been that way since she was twelve years old. With pent-up frustration needing a release, she threw the hairbrush down on the dresser. Goddamn Nolan, her ex-boyfriend. The sadistic prick had made fucking sure that she couldn’t stay in the city she loved. She’d never forgive the sick bastard for that. She sighed out loud, before taking a deep breath to compose herself.
Well, that’s all ancient history now. Like it or not, my new life is here in Colorado.
But maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe her forced exile from LA came with certain compensations. She noticed the corners of her lips lift slightly into a smile as she stared at her reflection once more. Leonardo Caparelli was certainly compensation. Despite it being so early in the morning, she felt her pussy moisten with sexual desire when she thought about her new boss, and she squirmed uneasily on the dressing table stool.
Suddenly aware of what she was doing, she openly berated herself. “Stop thinking that way, woman. It’s not even breakfast time yet.” But her self-admonishment didn’t work. She couldn’t stop thinking about the six-foot-three-inch two-hundred-pound hunk, with the darkest hair and eyes she’d ever seen.
Oh, yeah, he is an arrogant bastard. There is no doubt about that. But he is also a sexy arrogant bastard, and more annoying still, Leonardo Caparelli is an extremely wealthy, sexy, arrogant bastard
.
She stopped staring at her reflection, because she saw how turned on she’d become. He knew he was sexy, too. He knew woman found him attractive. Well, she wouldn’t make it obvious. She wouldn’t fall at his feet like probably hundreds of other women had. She’d play it cool. She’d act the consummate professional at all times—the Ice Queen with a job to do.
As she stood from the dresser, she scanned her new environment. The separate annex that came with the job lay nestled in the grounds of his impressive home, and was well screened from view. It was comfortable without being in any way opulent or luxurious. The word that came to mind was functional. The accommodation consisted of a living area, kitchen, bathroom, and one acceptably sized bedroom. Tastefully furnished in neutral shades of cream and beige, she would put her own stamp on it when she found the time. As soon as the opportunity arose, she would hang her pictures on the wall, giving the place that personal touch. Some happy memories of LA, the ones before Nolan Wells entered her life, would soon make her new surroundings feel more like home.