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Two days later she had a call from Cristiano Ferrara, offering her a job.
‘I heard that you resigned,’ he said, his Sicilian accent more pronounced over the phone, ‘and I didn’t want you to be snapped up by anyone else. You can work from home or we’ll find you an office, whichever you prefer. I don’t care where you are as long as you work for me. Our business is growing and it would be useful to have someone based in the UK.’
Emma listened as he outlined terms that were ridiculously generous and all the time he was speaking she just wanted to ask about Lucas. She wanted to know if he was all right. If he was working too hard. If he’d changed since he’d looked after little Ella.
But she didn’t, because she knew she had no right to know the answer to any of those questions.
And she accepted the job without hesitation, ignoring that tiny part of her that said she was only doing it because it meant retaining a tiny link with Lucas. That wasn’t it. What person in their right mind would turn down the chance to work for the Ferrara Group? Especially at the terms he was offering.
They agreed to sort out details in the New Year and Emma came off the phone wondering why she couldn’t feel more elated.
Angie squealed with excitement when she told her and Jamie was delighted that she wasn’t going to be away so much.
Emma couldn’t even bring herself to think about working for someone who wasn’t Lucas.
A few days after the madness of Christmas, she was standing in Jamie’s bedroom, staring at the Star Wars Lego and wondering again why Lucas had sent it, when the doorbell rang.
Jamie and Emma had gone to scour the sales for bargains and she was alone in the house so she had no choice but to answer the door herself.
Lucas stood there holding a handful of crumpled papers, his Lamborghini attracting a crowd of awed teenagers in the street outside. ‘Can I come in?’
Emma looked at him stupidly, resisting the temptation to fling herself at him like a puppy greeting its owner. So handsome, she thought, as she looked at that dark hair brushing the collar of the black cashmere coat. Handsome and guarded. ‘I thought you were in Zubran.’
‘Not any more. Are you going to let me in or slam the door in my face?’
Her heart skidded in her chest. She told herself firmly that what he was going to say wasn’t going to be what she wanted him to say. It would be something to do with work. Something she’d forgotten to hand over to Fiona. ‘You can come in, but I can’t vouch for the safety of your car if you leave it there.’
‘I don’t care about my car.’ Without waiting for her to move aside, he stepped past her and the brush of his body against hers caused them both to tense.
They created it between them, she thought. The electricity.
His eyes narrowed. ‘You’ve lost weight.’
Emma thought of Avery and lifted her chin. Pride. No way was she going to let him know how bad she felt. ‘No, I haven’t,’ she lied, ‘it’s just what I’m wearing. What’s that in your hand? If it’s a contract, forget it. I’m already working for someone else.’
‘I know. Cristiano. Good. I’m glad that’s sorted out.’
Emma closed the front door, thinking that the narrow hallway of their home wasn’t the best place to be trapped with a man of his physique. She wanted to keep her distance, but there wasn’t enough room to keep her distance when he dominated the limited space. ‘You told him to employ me?’
‘I can’t tell Cristiano Ferrara who to employ. I merely told him you were available. He’s a bright guy. I knew it would be a matter of hours before he offered you a job.’ There was something different about him. Something in his eyes. A new energy and she felt relieved to see it because she’d been so worried about him.
‘You’re not here to ask me to work for you again?’
‘No. I don’t want you working for me again. Fiona is working out nicely. You were right about her. She’s great.’
‘Oh. Right. Well, that’s—’ her ego absorbed the blow ‘—good. That’s really good.’
‘Yes, it is good, because you have this thing about not having a relationship with your boss,’ he said softly, ‘so I don’t want to be your boss any more.’
Emma felt strangely dizzy.
She was doing it again, she thought. Imagining things she shouldn’t be imagining. Dreaming dreams she shouldn’t be dreaming.
‘Why don’t you want to be my boss any more?’
‘You’re a bright girl. I would have thought it was obvious.’
Emma lifted her hand to her throat, too scared to speak.
