looked after other types of satisfaction, and his stomach clenched at the thought.
Distracting himself, he stirred sugar into his coffee. ‘A woman who likes to eat is a rarity in my world.’
She turned her head to look out of the window, across the dull Milanese skyline. ‘The women in your world must be very sad and hungry.’
Leo smiled. ‘The siciliani must have thought they were dreaming to find such a beautiful woman in their company who finishes a full meal.’ He took a sip of the coffee, feeling the familiar strength hit his tastebuds.
She ignored his compliment. ‘Actually, when I first moved to Syracuse all I ate were ham sandwiches and spaghetti in tomato sauce.’
‘That’s punishable by law in this country,’ he scolded.
She smiled, nodding her head. ‘I found that out soon enough. I think I lasted about a week before a colleague dragged me to her grandmother’s house and made me confess my crimes.’
‘Italian grandmothers are not known to be forgiving—especially when it involves food. I’m surprised you survived.’
Leo thought of his own upbringing. The array of servants in the castle kitchen. The silent meals alone with his nanny. Surprising himself with the direction of his thoughts, he sat forward, focusing on Dara’s smiling features.
‘It wasn’t a laughing matter. That woman cooked twelve different types of pasta in the space of one hour.’ She shook her head. ‘It was the most dramatic reaction to food I have ever encountered.’
‘My countrymen are not known for their delicate sensibilities.’ He finished his coffee, regarding her as she sat still looking pensively out of the window. ‘Tell the truth: have you eaten a plain tomato sauce since then?’
That earned him a smile. ‘Not if my life depended on it.’
‘Then you’ve passed the second test,’ he proclaimed.
He watched as her expression drifted, all trace of their playful conversation melting away.
‘Exactly how many tests do you have in store for me?’ she asked as she took a sip from her water.
He leaned back into his seat, casual and in control. ‘I don’t like to put a limit on progress, Dara. As a businesswoman I’m sure you can understand that.’
‘I’m glad to hear that, actually. I was considering showing you some ideas that struck me for your event tonight.’ She reached for her handbag, then paused. ‘Unless that violates my role as your temporary consultant?’ She raised a brow.
Leo sighed. The woman was hell-bent on annoying him.
‘Make it quick.’
She busied herself taking out a sleek tablet computer and unfolding the case into a neat stand, so that it stood upright as an impromptu presentation screen. She launched into a flurry of rough outlines, pinpointing the areas in which she felt his current plan lacked variety.
‘So, you see, if you split the evening into two parts you will avoid alienating the business clientele,’ she concluded, finally.
Leo sat back in his chair and tilted his head to one side. The flow chart on the screen was genius. She had just achieved in one brainstorming session what a team of seven event organisers had failed to.
The Milan relaunch had been heavily debated for weeks, due to the awkward combination of ‘party hard’ celebrity guests and the more staid businessmen and politicians. Finding an event structure that could keep all groups entertained had proved impossible, and yet Dara had seen the solution after simply looking down from an upper floor window.
‘Could you achieve all of this before you attend the event tonight?’
‘Without a doubt.’ She nodded confidently, her grey eyes lighting up with determination.
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