forgive my manners. I’m Carenza Tonielli. His, um—mentee, I guess.’
‘Ah. You’re Carenza.’
Dante had talked to his secretary about her? What had he said?
She blew out a breath. ‘I know I’m taking up too much of his time. I just brought him some gianduja to say thank you for all the help he’s been giving me. It isn’t nearly enough, but …’ She spread her hands. ‘You can hardly send a man flowers, and taking him out to dinner, when he owns a chain of restaurants, feels a bit … well … wrong.’
Signora Ricci nodded.
Was that a slight softening in her face, or was it just wishful thinking? Carenza decided to take a chance. ‘Actually, you might be the person to help me. Have you worked for him for very long?’
‘About eight years. Why?’
‘Because I’ve known him for a month now and I still don’t have a clue what he likes—I don’t even know what kind of music he listens to. I know he’s my mentor and this is strictly business, but by now surely I should know more of what makes him tick?’
‘Not necessarily. He keeps himself very much to himself,’ Signora Ricci said.
And getting information out of him was like pulling teeth. ‘I want to do something nice for him, but I don’t know what. Maybe take him out somewhere nice.’ Carenza wrinkled her nose. ‘But he hates films, so he probably wouldn’t like the theatre much, either.’
‘He hates anything that he thinks is pretentious,’ Signora Ricci said.
‘You’re telling me. You should’ve heard him about the art I was going to put in Tonielli’s,’ Carenza said dryly. ‘So do you have any idea where I can find something really good to say thank you, something he’d never think of doing for himself because—well, he always puts himself last—but he’d really, really like?’
Signora Ricci gave her an appraising look. ‘You know, you’re not what I expected.’
Carenza had a pretty good idea what the older woman had thought of her. ‘A princess, you mean?’
Signora Ricci looked embarrassed. ‘Yes.’
‘I could shake him when he calls me that. Except he’s been really good to me. He didn’t have to help me, but he’s been brilliant. And patient.’
Signora Ricci raised an eyebrow and laughed. ‘Dante, patient?’
Carenza thought of the way he’d ripped off her knickers, and blushed. ‘Sometimes.’
‘Well, I’m Mariella.’ Signora Ricci extended her hand. ‘Nice to meet you, Carenza.’
‘You, too, Mariella.’ Carenza shook her hand warmly. ‘So, can you give me any ideas of the sort of things he likes?’
‘Did you know it’s his birthday soon?’
‘No. He never said a word to me.’ And Carenza had a feeling he was going to downplay it. Not because he had issues about his age, but because he never spoiled himself, never took time for fun. A crazy idea formed in her head; the more she tried to suppress it, the more insistent it became. ‘Can I ask you something mad—and ask you not to say anything to him?’
‘That depends,’ Mariella said carefully.
‘He’s been my mentor, teaching me how to be a serious businesswoman. I want to do a bit of mentoring in reverse, and teach him to have fun.’ Taking it much further than she’d planned for tomorrow night.
‘First, you’ll have to get him to stop working for long enough,’ Mariella said dryly.
‘This is where my mad idea comes in. Knowing Dante, he’ll be working on his birthday. So is there any chance you can move his meetings for that day and the next, and block out the whole time for me instead—but without telling him?’
‘And what exactly are you planning to do with him?’ Mariella asked.
Carenza told her, and Mariella smiled. ‘He’ll have a hissy fit on you.’
‘No, he won’t. You know how he hates people talking about him. When he finds out, he’ll be in an airport. Among loads of people. He’s not going to make a scene.’
‘You’re devious.’ Mariella gave her an approving look.
‘I’ll need his passport. I can hardly ask him to bring it with him. Oh, and there’s packing.’
‘I can sort that out for you,’ Mariella said. ‘Tell me what you need, and I’ll make sure everything’s ready in a case under my desk.’
‘That’s fantastic. Thank you so much.’
‘One other thing. He always spends his birthday evening with his family.’
Ah. Carenza hadn’t thought of that. ‘Then I guess I ought to run this by them first.’
‘I can’t give you his mother’s number. But if I accidentally leave my contacts book open on my computer and go to the toilet, I can’t help it if you’re incredibly nosey and look on my screen, can I?’
Carenza laughed. ‘And you say I’m devious?’ She gave the secretary a high five. ‘Thank you, Mariella. This is going to be perfect.’
TEN o’clock on a Saturday night. Before Dante had met Carenza, he would’ve been working. Maybe in his office, maybe helping out in one of the restaurants, but definitely working. If anyone had told him a few weeks ago he’d be going clubbing with her—and even looking forward to it, just a tiny bit—he would’ve laughed.
You’ll definitely like my dress. And my shoes.
He wondered just what she had in mind. Possibilities bloomed in his head. One thing he did know, he was going to enjoy peeling her dress off afterwards. And so was she.
It still bothered him, the way she’d kissed him goodbye and left on Wednesday. Casual as anything. As if he didn’t really matter to her. Which was ridiculous. He didn’t want a relationship with her. He didn’t want to let her close, let her loosen his control over his emotions.
And yet, if he was honest with himself, part of him was starting to wish for exactly that.
‘Get a grip,’ he told himself sharply as he climbed out of the taxi and rang her doorbell.
The chances were, someone as high-maintenance as Carenza Tonielli would take hours to get ready to go out. Admittedly, she’d never once been late for a mentoring session with him; but this wasn’t one of their normal mentoring sessions. He’d agreed to let her set the agenda tonight. And he didn’t have a clue where this was going to take them.
She answered almost immediately and Dante’s jaw nearly hit the floor. She was wearing the highest heels he’d ever seen, her dress was short and clung in all the right places, and her hair was loose and looked incredibly sexy.
‘Let’s forget the dancing. I’ll tell the taxi driver to go home.’ Even to him, his voice sounded rusty, thick with desire.
She just laughed. ‘No way. I’m looking forward to going dancing.’ Mischief sparkled in her eyes. ‘I told you you’d like my dress.’
‘I’d like to take it off you, even more.’
A dimple appeared in her cheek. ‘Later. You know, patience is a virtue. And a business asset.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ He had a feeling that they’d both be at fever pitch by the time he took her home. ‘Just tell me this club isn’t going to be full of sixteen-year-olds.’
She laughed. ‘Of course not. We’re