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“The Valentinos must be in on this.”
There might have been a time when she would have argued. After all, this was a multi-billion dollar deal. There could be any number of factors holding things up. Most likely was the complexity of buying a company with multiple operations underway across the world.
But Marco was brilliant, and his confidence was blinding. He seemed absolutely certain that the Valentinos were involved and therefore, Portia believed that. Just like she believed him when he assured her he wouldn’t hurt her.
Shetrustedhim, she realized with a slight squirming of discomfort. Because why should she trust him? She barely knew him. And what she did know painted him as someone who didn’t take life seriously. Who didn’t care about things. Or people. Who was perennially single.
These were traits that should have made her wary, and yet regardless, she felt absolutely convinced that Marco was right.
“Can you organize it?”
Portia, with mortification, turned to her boss. She’d been in a daze, and had clearly missed something important. Dante was looking at her, waiting for an answer, and the longer he looked, the more humiliated Portia felt at having let her mind wander. She had to get a grip.
“A trip to Florence,” he said. “Acto has an office there. I’ll go this week sometime. Don’t let them stall past that.”
She nodded crisply, hoping he hadn’t noticed how unfocused she’d been. “You sure you don’t want to work from home this afternoon?”
Home. More memories: Marco at her door, in her house, her bed, sleeping with one of his big, strong arms wrapped around her. But then she looked at her boss, someone she thought of as a friend, and remembered how kind Dante had been to her, how much she owed him, and a wave of guilt washed over her.
She stood abruptly. “I’m fine,” she promised, a little too harshly. “I’ll get onto this now.”
“Okay. It’s your call. Thanks, Portia.”
He was already moving onto the next task, his legendary laser-like focus redirecting before she’d even left the office. She cast one glance at him, eyes dropping to the wedding photo beside his keyboard, sympathy flooding her as it always did when she thought of his late wife and child, then left the office.
* * *
“Portia speaking,”she answered casually as the phone call was coming in from an internal line, so someone in the building.
“Marco speaking.” His voice was gruff and pulled at her stomach like an unbreakable string. She closed her eyes, breathed in, exhaled, tried not to think about the fact they hadn’t seen each other for two days.
“I’m at work,” she hissed, covered the cradle with her hand.
“Presumably, given I’ve called on your desk phone.”
Heat flushed her to the roots of her hair. She cast a glance towards Dante’s door, glad to see it shut.
“What can I do for you?” She asked breathily.
“Interesting question. Do you want the honest answer or one that’s safe for the workplace?”
Her insides squished. “Marco,” she hissed. “I’m serious.” But a smile tickled at the edges of her mouth and her body was hot all over with desire.
“I need to see you.”
Her heart dropped to her toes and the colour left her face.Promise you’ll tell me when it’s over.
“I’m in my office,” he added, so she frowned, thinking of his penthouse, where he had a palatial, barely-used home office. But then she recalled that he’d phoned through on an internal line.
“In the building?” She asked skeptically.
“Don’t sound so shocked.”
“You have an office here?”
“Sure. I’m a director, remember?”
She did remember, and besides which, he’d reminded her just a few nights ago, when he’d turned up in her flat.
