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'Well, it's not mine.' Holly's temper fired. 'I got the interview on my
own merits and I'm proud of that and I intend to show up-'
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His lean, dark, devastating face set hard. 'But I said no.' Holly
smoothed an unsteady hand down over her skirt but kept her chin high.
'Don't I have the right to disagree with you?'
'Not when I know better. You're not making the Lombardi name a laughing
stock by chasing after some menial job,' Rio decreed with cutting emphasis.
Holly paled. 'So let's get this straight...if I was a brain surgeon or
something snobby or important you would have a different attitude. But,
as I'm only capable of work that you consider menial, I have to stay
home to conserve your dignity.'
'As you're not a brain surgeon, I don't think we need discuss that
angle. Come on,' Rio urged ruefully. 'Go and change into something
livelier for the races.' 'No.'
'In a minute you're going to be chaining yourself to the railings
outside the house like a suffragette fighting for the vote,' Rio
countered very drily. 'Be sensible. I work very long hours. When I'm
around, I want you around too-'
'Did anyone ever tell you that you can be very domineering? And the sort
of bloke who has to control everything around him?' Holly paused and
then went on, 'If I want to work, I will work.' 'Is that your last
word?' Holly nodded without hesitation.
Rio surveyed her with a level of brooding dissatisfaction that would
once have filled her with instant wholehearted panic. Then, swinging on
his heel, he mounted the stairs and left her standing there.
An hour later, while Holly waited her turn with the other applicants
called for interview, she began to wonder exactly what she was doing
there. Was she happy to leave Timothy solely to Sarah's care for half of
every week? Hadn't she
neglected to take into account the other demands on her time? Was she
going to drop out of her Italian lessons? Shouldn't she be taking a more
hands-on interest in the running of her own home?
In addition, Rio led a busy social life. They had already dined out once
that week, with the directors of the Lombardi Foundation, an occasion
that had not been half so intimidating as she had feared. And that very
evening they had a big private party to attend. As Rio's wife she had to
look good at such events and that meant more than running a last-minute
brush through her hair and wearing the first thing that came out of her
wardrobe.
Suppressing a rueful sigh, Holly decided that there was no point
whatsoever in putting herself through an interview for a job she did not
even want. Only pride and the suggestion that she might be a gold-digger
had sent her off in search of a job in the first place. Indeed, she had
stood up to Rio purely on principle and she knew that her stubborn
refusal to give way had shocked him.
Evidently, the husband who had told her that she would have to lead her
own life hadn't really meant it. She started to smile then. Just as he
had once carelessly admitted, Rio was spoilt. Alice adored her only son.
Holly imagined others of her sex had added to that spoiling even by the
time Rio became a teenager. He was drop-dead gorgeous and rich and
absolutely charming...as long as he got what he wanted. Which, most of
the time, he did. And why not, when he made her so happy?
Arriving back home, she was disappointed to learn that Rio had returned
to his office at Lombardi Industries. Around three she went to get her
hair done. Sly, the owner of the salon, who had long since grasped the
fact that Holly was not Rio's imaginary cousin, Fiammetta, and had done
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so with very good grace, always gave Holly her personal attention.
'I hear Christabel didn't get that big cosmetics contract she was up
for,' Sly remarked when she began trimming Holly's hair. 'But then,
let's face it, she's not getting any younger...'
After telling herself that she was about to do the decent thing and
change the subject, Holly heard herself saying instead, 'What age is she?'
'She's got to be over thirty...' Sly lowered her head to continue more
confidentially, 'She's supposed to be pretty difficult to work with. A
lot of people in the business don't like her. It makes you think that
some of the juiciest rumours about her have to be true.'
'Rumours?' Holly was ashamed of herself, deeply ashamed, but she was as
hooked as a fish on a line to the other woman's every word,
"The big cosmetics companies are very careful of their image and they
expect the model they select as a figurehead to have a clean
reputation.. .and Christabel, well, I've heard that she does;- Oh,
excuse me.'
As a stylist interrupted Sly with a query the brunette broke off what
she had been saying and left Holly seething with curiosity. But the
minute of reflection that followed sobered Holly and made her face burn.
It was truly awful of her to be listening to gossip about Christabel.
Rio would kill her. Rio would expect better of her. For goodness' sake,
didn't she expect better of herself?
'Can we change the subject?' Holly asked when Sly returned to her.
'But we were having so much fun doing down Christabel,' Sly pointed out
in amazement.
'I'm sorry...I know I encouraged you, but talking about her makes me
feel bad.'
'That's what I keep on telling people about you. Sweet sincerity shines
out of you. I bet Rio was blinded by the comparison between you and that
female we're not going to mention again. My final word on the subject?
Rio had an incredibly lucky escape.'
On the drive home Holly gathered her courage and stopped off at the same
designer outlet where Rio had once taken her shopping. She wanted to buy
an outfit that Rio hadn't seen before, something that he hadn't chosen
for her. And she found it: a strappy short dress that was wholly
feminine in design and made of glorious fabric that shone like pure,
opulent gold beneath the lights.
Clad in her new lingerie, a daring combination of gossamer-thin
lace-topped stockings, oyster silk panties and a matching strapless bra,
she was putting the finishing touches to her make-up, which she had
laboured long and hard over, when a knock sounded on the bathroom door.
She opened it, focused on a silk tie and automatically tipped back her
head to connect with the dark golden eyes she loved, saying, 'Be
honest...does this eyeshadow make me look like a panda with a hangover?'
'Santo cielo...' Rio murmured huskily. 'That bad?' Holly groaned in
frustration. 'I've wiped it all off once already and I'll die if I have
to do it again!'
'You look totally fantastic just as you are, bella mia,' Rio said very
slowly.
Comprehension sinking in, Holly watched her husband literally trail his
hotly appreciative gaze over her scantily clad body and she reddened and
threw the mascara wand in her hand at him. 'My eyes, Rio!'
He caught the wand in one lean brown hand and threw back his arrogant
dark head, raw amuse
ment dancing in his dark-lashed gaze, a slashing
smile of shameless acknowledgement
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on his mouth. 'Gorgeous... all of you, absolutely gorgeous. How long do
we have before we have to leave?'
'Rio...' Her breath caught in her throat at the smouldering glitter in
his scrutiny. His effect on her was instantaneous. A slow simmer of heat
rose inside her, spread at wanton speed to sensitive places. Her nipples
tingled and tightened and pushed against the cups of her bra and a tiny
tightening sensation pulled deep in the pit of her stomach and made her
press her thighs together.
'We have more important things to think about,' Rio imparted rather
raggedly.
'Have we?'
'I was a real bastard earlier. How did the interview go?'
'The...interview?' Holly coloured, averted her gaze, not yet ready to
