AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I gulped as the house came into view. No, not house. Palace. It was breath-taking. From the outside, it had all the traditional elements of a stylish Italian villa with a large fountain in the driveway, black iron balconies off every room that was decorated with beautiful vines of greenery and flowers snaking around the bars. But it was the sheer size of the place that really left me speechless. It must have been at least three stories high and the size of a small shopping mall. I couldn’t even fathom why anyone would need this much living space. I was going to go crazy at Giulia and her brother’s girlfriend, Natalia. I was so not prepared for this!
“Please. Follow me,” An older man wearing an expensive suit addressed me rather coldly at the top of the stone steps by the grand entrance to the mansion. I trailed behind him, and my mouth fell open as I entered the lobby. It was a drastic change from the traditional exterior of the building. Inside, everything was pristine and elegant. Marble floors that looked as though they must be polished numerous times a day and a spiralling staircase going up both sides of the room that led to the top floor with a cream carpet. God, this place must be a nightmare to keep clean. I suddenly felt sorry for Natalia.
Leading me through the lobby, turning left down a wide corridor and stopping at the door of one room, he nodded to another man who was standing guarding the entrance. This man was dressed entirely in black. Black shirt, black trousers and black sunglasses. I almost laughed at his serious face. Why the hell was he wearing sunglasses inside? But his intimidating aura forced me to bite my lip and swallow my amusement.
“Please. Take a seat and fill out the forms. You will be called in for your interview shortly,” the older man replied, and I nodded, taking a clipboard from him with a pen attached. Walking into the room, I nearly stumbled over my feet. It was beautiful. Creams and whites everywhere gave it an almost tranquil vibe if it wasn’t for the three or four butch men standing around the room in menacing stances. What were they doing? They looked like bodyguards or something. Taking a seat on a clear, glass chair which I instantly recognised as a famous designer but couldn’t for the life of me remember the name, I gazed down at the form in my hand. Oh fuck.
I grimaced in alarm as I realised the entire form was written in Italian.
“Oh… excuse me?” I called, but the man had already left. Glancing at the statues of men who were ignoring me completely, I didn’t feel like I was meant to speak to them. They were clearly doing something extremely important. I scoffed at the thought. That’s when I noticed another woman on the far side of the room. She was sitting elegantly on the cream sofa, flicking through a magazine. She was very beautiful in that supermodel, high cheekbones and stern expression kind of way. She was wearing a tight pencil skirt and silk blouse, open a little too low to be appropriate for an interview, but I am guessing that is what she was here for. I couldn’t exactly talk. What the hell was I wearing? I wore this over-the-top sunflower dress because I thought it looked sweet and fun and the kids would like it. Now, I just feel ridiculous.
“Excuse me? I don’t suppose you could tell me what the first question on the form says please?”
She turned her flawlessly made-up face to me and looked me up and down like I was so far beneath her she could squash me with her stupid killer heels. She flicked her immaculate blonde ponytail over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes.
“Can’t you read?”
I immediately wanted to wipe that smug smirk off her face, but instead I plastered on a fake smile.
“Not Italian, no.”
She tutted and dismissed me rudely, flicking back through her magazine.Bitch.
Just then, another woman arrived and took a seat next to me. She was also dressed more formally than me, but in a tight bodycon dress that I swear would be more appropriate for a night out, not an interview to work with children. Perhaps this was the norm in Italy? I couldn’t deny that she was just as stunning as the ice queen over there. I gave her a smile which she returned before looking down at the clipboard and starting to fill out her form. Well, that was promising. At least she smiled.
“Ciao! Hi, could you help me please? I can’t read Italian. What does this say?” I asked her. She peered up and regarded me thoughtfully.
“It says, what are your three worst traits,” she replied with a smile and I frowned. That seemed like a weird question to ask first, but I shrugged and wrote my answers down in English. My frown deepened as I tried to recognise any of the Italian words in the second question. I couldn’t keep asking the poor girl next to me, she was trying to focus on her own form. I am going to have to rely on my handy little translator. He was quickly becoming my dependent and best friend.
Lifting my rucksack onto my lap, I started rummaging around frantically for the pocket-sized book. God, I had so much crap in here, it was like a lucky dip. Suddenly, the bag slipped off my lap from my manic search and all its embarrassing contents flew out across the marble floor and my dignity with it.
“Shit!” I cursed under my breath as I dropped to my knees and started to clamber around the floor grabbing lipstick, tampons, the half-eaten baguette I had for lunch and… I paused as my hand reached for the black lacy thong that I just so happened to have with me as a spare. I don’t even know what it was doing in my bag. But it’s not the thong that has me frozen, it’s the shiny black shoes that have approached them. Please don’t be the old man who can’t crack a smile. I slowly lifted my head to take in the man that was standing between me and my underwear and, oh, it was so much worse.
My eyes travelled up the smart black suit trousers that hugged thick thighs with an expensive-looking belt to the muscular torso and broad shoulders in a tight-fitting black shirt. The sleeves were rolled up slightly, showcasing strong forearms, one covered with tattoos. I gulped as I continued up to his face. Oh my…God. Seriously, this man was so damn hot it should be illegal.
He was unfairly gorgeous. Possibly the most gorgeous man I have ever laid eyes on. His handsome face was perfectly symmetrical, his strong jaw line decorated with neatly groomed stubble, an annoyingly straight nose and high cheekbones. His jet-black hair was slicked back and swept over to one side, but it was his eyes that had me forget my own name. They were burning into mine with intrigue and I felt my body temperature rising. They were so dark, the deepest shade of brown I had ever seen. He was the definition of perfection and I swear my mouth was watering at the sight of him. Although, there was one thing about him that did not sit right with me. The one thing that I could never be okay with…danger.
His face remained expressionless and stern as he slowly lowered himself down to my level on the floor and picked up my thong in his fingers. He tore his intense gaze away from mine and studied them as my cheeks flamed with mortification.
“Good try. I agree, these would look better on my bedroom floor,” his deep voice laced with an Italian accent made my stomach flutter until I registered what he said. He winked at me and tossed them towards me before standing up and walking away without looking back. What an arrogant ass! I groaned as I threw them in my bag quickly and sat back on my chair. It was only then that I noticed how the other two women were practically foaming at their mouths at the sight of him and then turned their deadly glares towards me.
“That was pathetic,” the blonde one hissed at me, giving me the bitchiest look she could muster.
“I – I wasn’t trying to…” I didn’t even know what I was trying to say. Did they really believe I did that on purpose for his attention? I don’t even know who he is! And why for the life of me would I do something so stupid?
I decided not to bite back in this situation. They already thought what they did about me so what was the point in trying to change their minds? One thing was for sure. I hate arrogant assholes even if they are sex on legs. They could have him. And from the way they reacted to his presence, I am pretty sure that’s what they were here for, not the job.
I just hoped I would never have to see him again. I’ll just get this interview with Mrs Buccini done and dusted and go home with my tail between my legs. I mean the chances of getting this job are non-existent anyway.
“Olivia Jones,” The older man had returned and called my new name, gesturing to the door which that man had just walked through. I inhaled deeply, before standing up and brushing my dress down nervously. Ok. Here goes nothing.
Interview from hell
Walking through the door into the elegant office, I couldn’t help but feel intimidated. Behind the grand desk was a beautiful woman in her early fifties, although from the way she was dressed and her immaculate make-up she could have passed for forty easily. She was wearing a colourful satin dress that screamed designer brand and was drumming her acrylic nails on the expensive oak desk in front of her.
I gulped as she turned her head in my direction and looked me up and down. Her face slowly turned from serious to amused as a smile played on her lips. I gave her my most charming smile before my eyes flickered over to the intimidating man who was burning a hole in my head with the intensity of his stare. Fuck not him again. His giant frame was leaning back on a white leather sofa, one leg resting casually over his other knee and his arms stretched out along the back. He regarded me as if I was on auction as his dark eyes slowly raked over my body. It felt like he was undressing me with his deep brown eyes and I shifted uncomfortably on my feet.
“Please, Miss Jones, take a seat,” The woman who I assumed was Mrs Buccini held out her hand in the direction of the glass chair a few metres in front of them. “My name is Cecilia Buccini and this is my son, Giovanni Buccini.”
