His to Master and Enjoy [The Billionaires and Their Playgrounds 2] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) (3 page)

Securing the front door to the annex, she headed toward the big house, taking the crisp early-morning air deep into her lungs. The sun was just starting to rise, and an hour from now the dew lying on the grass would be burned away. Using the key Marie had given her, she entered Leonardo’s palatial home.

The house was eerily quiet, and as she stood in the magnificent hallway, she paused for a moment and looked around.
My, my, how the other half live.
Paige then headed for her new office and pushed open the door, before taking the work diary from the desk and studying it. There was much to do. Flights to be arranged. Hotels to be sorted. Tickets to be purchased, and appointments with important business clients to be made.

It was imperative that her business persona came across as professional, and that she needed to get things right straight away, because she figured that Mr. Caparelli was a man with extremely limited patience.

With her nose still buried in the diary, she headed toward the breakfast room. Her new boss certainly employed an efficient workforce, because the table was already laid with two place settings. She guessed Marie was responsible for this, because the cutlery lay perfectly aligned, while the glasses sparkled and the crisp linen napkins were neatly folded.

Paige stopped abruptly when she heard a venomous female voice screech, “Who the fuck are you?”

She turned to see a bedraggled woman, obviously the worse for liquor, slumped in an easy chair in the corner of the room. Her face was partially hidden by a tangled mat of dyed blonde hair.

“Excuse me?”

The woman tried to stand, but finding it too difficult, quickly gave up, and Paige noticed she cradled a half-empty bottle of tequila.

Her words slurred from her mouth in a belligerent tirade. “You seem to have a problem with your hearing, sweetie, so I’ll repeat myself. I said who the fuck are you?” This time she spoke with even more undisguised venom.

Keeping her dignity intact, something the visitor seemed unable to do, she calmly replied, “I’m Paige Palmer. Mr. Caparelli’s new executive personal assistant.” She now recognized the drunken woman as Cherise Samuels, the supermodel. Although the state she was in, it was hard to imagine why anyone in their right mind would pay twenty thousand dollars a day for
her
services. Looking a complete mess, she’d obviously come straight from an all-night party. She wore just a single stiletto, which dangled precariously from her toes. Her dress, if you could call it that, was revealing in the extreme, and her breasts were more out than in.

Paige had seen her image many times in the glossy magazines. Usually draped suggestively over her new boss. She didn’t like the look of her then, and she liked her even less now. She guessed she’d tried to make her way to his bedroom, but her intoxication had defeated her before she could climb the stairs.

Cherise lifted the bottle of tequila to her lips and took another hit before wiping the back of her hand across her mouth and smearing her lipstick. It now matched her mascara, which ran down her cheeks. She leaned forward in the chair and pointed an accusing finger, which she couldn’t stop from wavering about. “Huh,” she snorted disdainfully. “Personal assistant. You’re Leon’s new personal assistant? You won’t last. Just like the rest of them, you won’t last.”

Dislike her? Strike that. She was beginning to loathe the very sight of Cherise Samuels, but she wouldn’t allow herself to sink to the supermodel’s level. Determined to remain professional at all times, Paige took a deep breath. “Won’t last? I think that’s up to me and Mr. Caparelli, don’t you?”

The blonde antichrist in the corner suddenly exploded into demonic laughter. “You fucking want him, don’t you? Just like every other bitch of a personal assistant he’s had. Well, let me explain something to you, sweetie. He wouldn’t be interested in fucking you.” With a condescending sneer to her face, Cherise looked her up and down. “Take a look at yourself. Look at your clothes. Look at your makeup. Jesus Christ, you’ve even got fucking split ends. You’re never gonna feel Leon’s huge cock spreading you wide, or hear him whisper your name as he fucks you so sweetly. You’re out of your depth, so fuck off back to wherever you came from while you still have the chance.”

Struggling to comprehend what was going on, Paige slowly shook her head. Was this deeply unpleasant scenario really happening, or was she going to jolt awake from her horrendous nightmare any moment soon? This was the first day in her new job, and if she wasn’t so desperate to keep it, she’d have walked across and slapped the sneer from Cherise Samuels overly made-up face, and she’d have enjoyed it, too. How dare this overpaid clotheshorse speak to her like that? She wanted to shake her skeletal frame and say, “Take a look in the mirror. You don’t look too good yourself.” But she wouldn’t, because she hadn’t been brought up that way.

Cherise threw back her head and took another slug of tequila. “He’s my man, bitch, and don’t you ever forget it.”

Paige wondered what the hell this crazy woman was on. Liquor certainly, but she guessed Cherise Samuels was never far away from a line of coke, too. No human being could naturally be so skinny. Whatever she was on, it didn’t do much for her temperament.

Rather than escalate matters, Paige decided to try and calm things down. “Cherise,” she said quietly. “We seem to have gotten off to a bad start. If we could just treat each other with a little respect, then—”

“Aghh.” Cherise’s anger knew no bounds, and she hurled the now empty bottle of tequila at her. Paige barely had time to duck before it smashed against the wall of the breakfast room. “Fuck you, bitch. I don’t take any lessons in manners from you. I earn more in a week than you earn in a year. Ten years even.”

As Paige shielded her face in an attempt to stop any wayward shards of glass from cutting or even blinding her, she heard a commanding voice from behind her say, “Enough, Cherise.” When she felt strong, yet comforting hands take hold of her shoulders, she instantly felt safe. Leonardo would deal with this crazy woman, she felt sure of that.

With his welcome masculine warmth permeating the tiny divide between her body and his, she noticed that Cherise seemed reluctant to continue with her foul-mouthed tirade. Instead, she submissively lowered her head, appearing afraid to hold his gaze.

“I’m sorry, Leon, but—”

Without a hint of warmth in his voice, he said, “We’re finished. You know that. How the hell did you get in here?”

Still looking at the floor, she quietly mumbled, “I had a spare key made, before I handed back the original.”

He strode across to her and held out his hand. “Give it to me. Now.”

“But, Leon—”

“I said now, Cherise.”

At this point, Paige felt almost sorry for the obviously distressed woman, because her anger had turned to despair, and she threw herself on the floor then wrapped her bony arms around his legs. She then started to sob uncontrollably. “Please don’t make me give the key back, Leon. Please let me stay. We were great together once. We can be great together again. Please let me stay. I can’t bear to think of you with someone else. Why can’t I have just one more chance?”

“Because I don’t trust you. I never did.”

“But, but,” she sobbed.

He roughly took hold of her chin and angled her face to his. “You sold the blueprints to the latest Caparelli to my competitors. It’s called industrial espionage, Cherise, and you’re lucky I didn’t involve the cops. If I had, you’d be eating prison food for a very long time.” Paige saw his fingers dig into the obnoxious woman’s flesh, and she couldn’t help but wince. “Even you’re not dumb enough to think that Leonardo Caparelli would ever forgive you for that. Did the money they gave you keep you well supplied with cocaine, or has it run out, just like your modeling contract has? Oh, yes, Cherise, I make it my business to know everything. That’s why you’ve come back here. You need my money to fuel your habit.”

Almost as though she realized the game was up, Cherise suddenly stopped crying. She wrenched herself away from him and fell back into the chair. This time she seemed unafraid to hold his gaze. “That’s it then?”

“That’s it, Cherise. Get the hell out of here, and never come back.”

Her old arrogance had returned, and with what could only be described as sheer hatred, Paige heard her say, “Fuck you, Leon. Fuck you all the way to hell, and fuck that little bitch of a personal assistant, too.”

Paige saw the growing anger in his beautiful dark eyes as he yanked Cherise from the chair, turned her around, and pushed her toward the door. “Go.”

Only, she wasn’t finished, and she had yet more vitriol to spew. Cherise turned on her heels, and with a rictus grin to her face, said, “Oh, by the way, sweetie. Did your new boss tell you about his mother?”

Paige immediately knew that Cherise had struck a raw nerve, because she saw Leonardo’s dark eyes flash in anger again as he gave his ex-girlfriend another shove in the right direction. “I said go, Cherise.” His tone was uncompromising, and she knew he meant business.

Clearly wanting to cause as much distress as possible, she resisted. “Had the old lady locked up in the nuthouse years ago. The crazy old woman hasn’t been right in the head since his pa died. Ain’t that the truth, Leon?”

Paige found herself holding her breath. Dear God those cutting words had certainly hit the spot, exactly as the vicious bitch had intended. A silent standoff between the two then ensued as they eyed each other with disgust. Wondering what would happen next, she felt her heart beating out of control. She didn’t need to wait long, because Leonardo soon emerged from his state of statue stillness. He simply exploded into movement, and in less than the blink of an eye, he threw Cherise over his shoulder and strode down the impressive hall to the front door. Her vocabulary of four-letter words was extensive, and she used every single one of them as he carried her away, kicking and screaming like a wild banshee. However, Leonardo was such a powerfully built man that her petulant protestations came to nothing. Using his left hand, he pulled open the solid oak door, and threw her out. His anger was such that she landed a good six to eight feet from him.

Paige watched mesmerized as he pointed a finger at Cherise. “You’re done here.”

Although Cherise had used all the vitriolic ammunition at her disposal, she’d still failed to dent Leonardo’s armor, and finally realizing this, she picked herself up and ran from the house like a scolded cat, hopefully never to seen by either of them again.

Leonardo slammed the heavy oak door shut, and with anger still coursing through his veins, strode down the hallway that led to the breakfast room. What the fuck would his new personal assistant make of this? The poor girl looked shell-shocked. Even in her worst nightmare, she wouldn’t have expected this to happen on the first day in her new job.

When he entered the breakfast room, he saw Paige crouched on the floor, picking shards of glass from the carpet. She must have heard him come in, because she turned her head and with a tremulous voice whispered, “It was a bottle of tequila, Mr. Caparelli. She threw it at me.”

Her beautiful emerald-green eyes were still wide with shock and fear, and he tried to lighten the mood by saying, “Tequila? She usually drinks gin, and plenty of it.” His approach seemed to work, because her downturned mouth briefly curved into a sensuous smile.

“Leave it. You’ll cut yourself. I’ll get Marie to see to it later.” He took hold of her hand and pulled her upright. She barely came to his chest, and when she put tiny little fingers to her mouth, they trembled uncontrollably. She seemed so fucking vulnerable, and for him, another word for vulnerable was sexy. Failing to control an overpowering urge to comfort and protect her, he felt compelled to wrap his arms around her and pull her close. So close that the creamy soft skin of her cheek lay nestled against his chest.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Caparelli.” Her husky words were as shaky as the legs she stood on. “I’m not normally like this. I’m usually able to—”

“Shhh, Paige.” Leonardo rested his chin on top of her head. “No one could have foreseen what would happen today.” The smell of apple blossom shampoo drifted from her beautiful chestnut locks, and he took a deep breath, filling his nostrils with her delicious scent.

He was addicted to women. It had been this way for as long as he could remember. He loved all of them, but specifically ones who possessed a sexy vulnerability, along with a submissive nature. These were the women who fuelled his sexual fantasies, and standing with Paige cradled in his arms, he realized she could be one of them. However, his sudden awareness of this enchanting woman created a dilemma. Of all the women he’d slept with over the years, and there were too many to count, he was damned sure that not one of them had been an employee of his.

When still a child, he vividly remembered Caparelli Motors as a thriving business. That was until his father tragically died some twenty-eight years ago. His grief-stricken mother proved unable to cope with the loss of the man she loved more than life itself, and as a result, the once-successful company fell into financial difficulties, which were further exacerbated by an inept and self-serving management team. They convinced his clinically depressed mother that changes needed to be made, or the company would go bankrupt.

Oh yes, there were changes all right. Changes for the worse. He still seethed with anger when he thought of the proud Caparelli name being displayed on washing machines and refrigerators. Even though he was only ten years old at the time, he vowed to restore Caparelli Motors to its former glory.