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‘You’re not sure…?’ he prompted, an edge to his voice, as if he was daring her.
Mia lifted her chin. ‘When is the gala?’
The tiniest smile quirked the corner of his mouth, electrifying her. The man was devastating already, but heaven help her if he smiled. His eyes turned to silver and Mia’s insides turned molten. She swallowed audibly and kept her chin up.
‘Seven o’clock.’
Mia’s mind raced. It was undoubtedly a black-tie event, formal wear absolutely necessary, and her only appropriate outfit was a basic and rather boring black cocktail dress, back at her flat in Wimbledon. It would take nearly an hour to get there, and then back again…
‘What is it?’ Alessandro demanded, now definitely starting to sound annoyed. ‘Why are you looking like this won’t be possible, when I can assure you it is?’
‘No reason,’ Mia said quickly. She’d manage. Somehow she’d manage. ‘I’ll be ready at seven.’
‘Six forty-five,’ Alessandro returned. ‘On the dot. I like to be punctual.’
Back at her desk Mia couldn’t concentrate on anything, not that there was very much for her to do. Like everyone else she was in limbo, waiting to find out how Alessandro Costa decided to handle his new acquisition, and whether they would have jobs come morning.
A few minutes after she’d left the office, Alessandro strode out of it, without sparing her a single glance. As he stepped into the lift, she tried not to notice how the expensive material of his suit stretched across his shoulders, or his dark hair gleamed blue-black in the light. She certainly wasn’t going to remember that twang of energy that she’d felt reverberate between them when she’d been standing close enough to inhale the heady scent of his aftershave. No, definitely not noticing any of those things. In fact, she decided, now was as good a time as any to go back to her flat and fetch her dress.
Her heart tumbled in her chest as she grabbed her handbag and headed out, half afraid of running into Alessandro and having to bear the brunt of his ire. It was lunchtime, so she had a reason to be leaving the office, but she still felt nervous about crossing or irritating him in any way. Her job, she acknowledged grimly, was in a very precarious place, no matter how useful she seemed to him at the moment.
An hour and a half later, Mia was breathlessly hurrying back into the office, her dress and shoes clutched in a bag to her chest. As the lift doors slid open, she stepped inside—and smack into Alessandro Costa.
The breath left her chest with a startling whoosh, and she would have stumbled had Alessandro not clamped his hands on her shoulders to steady her. For a heart-stopping second his nearness overwhelmed her, the heat and power rolling off him in intoxicating waves. Her mind blurred and then blanked, her palms flat on his very well-muscled chest, fingers stretching instinctively as if to feel more of him. She could not think of a single thing to say. She couldn’t even move, conscious only of his powerful, hard body so very near to hers. If she so much as swayed their hips would actually brush…
Then Alessandro released her, stepping back, his mouth compressed in a hard line as he raked her with a single, scathing glance. ‘Where have you been?’
‘I’m sorry, were you looking for me?’
‘I wanted the files on Dillard’s less impressive clients. Did you think I’d be satisfied with only the top ten?’ Even for him, he sounded on edge, his body taut with barely suppressed tension.
‘I’m sorry, I was at lunch.’
‘For an hour and a half?’
Mia shook her head, a flush figh
ting its way up her throat and across her face. She’d been afraid of this exact scenario, and now that it was a reality she couldn’t handle it. He was still standing so close, and every time she took a breath she inhaled the aroma of his aftershave, felt his heat. ‘No, of course not.’ She drew herself up, holding onto the last threads of her composure. She could do this. She needed to do this. ‘If you must know, I went back to my flat to find a dress to wear this evening. But I will have the other files to you shortly, I promise.’
Alessandro stared at her for another agonising moment before he gave a brief, terse nod. ‘Very well. I expect files on all the other clients within the hour. Exactly.’
Mia had no doubt he’d been timing her to the second. The man was a stickler for detail…among other things. Back at her desk she hung her dress up on the back of a door and hurried to amass the files Alessandro had demanded. She’d be hard-pressed to do it in an hour, but she was determined to show Alessandro she could.
Fingers flying, mind racing, she managed to assemble everything and jot down relevant notes, stepping into Henry’s—now Alessandro’s—office with one minute to spare. Alessandro glanced at his watch as she stepped through the doors, and then one of his faint smiles quirked his mouth for no more than a second, making her catch her breath.
Heaven help her.
‘Impressive,’ he said after a moment, sounding both amused and reluctantly admiring. ‘I didn’t think you could do it in an hour.’
‘You underestimate me, Mr Costa.’
His gaze lingered on her, and Mia felt her body start to tingle and hum. ‘Maybe I do,’ he murmured, and held out his hand for the files.
Mia handed them to him, and then took him through each one, making sure to sit on the other side of the desk as he’d requested before.
It was surely better for her to have a little distance between them; being near him had the troubling side-effect of short-circuiting her brain. She didn’t know whether it was his intimidating presence, his undeniable charisma, or the unavoidable fact of his outrageously good looks that turned her mind to slush, but something about him did, and that was definitely not a good reaction to have to her boss, or even to anyone. Mia never wanted another person to have any power over her—not physical, not emotional, and certainly not sensual. Just thinking about it made goose-pimples rise on her flesh. Alessandro certainly had the last one…if she let him.
‘Is there anything else you need?’ she asked once they’d gone through all the files, her body tense from holding herself apart and doing her utmost not to notice the powerful muscles of his forearms when he’d rolled up his shirtsleeves, or the stubble now glinting on the hard line of his jaw. No, she was definitely not noticing anything like that.
