weeks in some luxury palazzo in Italy would be a good way to figure out what had got him so obsessed with her in the first place.
‘But, Mr Delisantro, Miss Redmond is no longer in our employ,’ Crenshawe said hesitantly.
‘That’s your problem, Henry. Not mine. But let me give you some advice. If she’s not waiting for me at Heathrow a week from tomorrow, you can kiss your commission goodbye.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
E VA reread the monitor in Heathrow’s Terminal Five for the fiftieth time and tried to even her breathing. She was starting to hyperventilate.
‘In the arrivals hall.’ She whispered the words above the hum of conversation and the indecipherable drone of the terminal announcer’s voice.
Pulling the two tickets to Milan out of her handbag, she studied the flight numbers for the twentieth time. Then shoved them back in and fastened the bag.
Think pretty thoughts .
But instead of puppies gambolling on a bed of wild flowers springing to mind, the less-than-pretty picture of Nick, his eyes glittering with contempt, leapt into her head. Her breath clogged her lungs, taking on the consistency of treacle.
Breathe .
She pushed out a breath. Gulped in another.
She’d never had a panic attack before, butseeing Nick Delisantro again was exactly the sort of extreme-stress situation that could trigger one. She sucked in several more painfully shallow breaths, exhaled slowly.
Focus. Because quite apart from the humiliation factor, you don’t have time to pass out .
Nick’s plane from San Francisco was already half an hour late. Their flight to Italy was due to take off in two hours. She had to get them to Terminal One, and ensure they checked in at least an hour prior to take-off. And then…
She swallowed down the lump of treacle cutting off her air supply as heat seeped into her cheeks.
And then she would be spending the next two weeks at Nick Delisantro’s beck and call.
She still wasn’t quite sure how she’d got into this fix. Everything had happened so fast and so unexpectedly. She’d been scouring the job ads last Tuesday morning, trying to figure out a way to make her meagre savings last while she reinvented her shattered career, her confrontation with Mr Crenshawe not making her feel quite as courageous as she would have hoped, when she’d received a frantic call from her ex-boss—begging her to return to work and claiming that her sacking had all been a terrible misunderstanding. When she’d hesitated momentarily, from shock rather than reluctance, he’d immediately doubled her salary as an incentive.
It was only when she’d arrived at work thatafternoon, trying to ignore the inquisitive stares from her co-workers, that she’d discovered the enormous catch in her sudden change of fortunes.
First there had been the astonishing news that she was back on the Alegria account, promptly followed by the heart-stopping information that Nick Delisantro had not only consented to travel to the Duca D’Alegria’s estate in Lake Garda, but that he was insisting she accompany him as Roots Registry’s representative.
She’d left her boss’s office in a daze, her fingers whitening on the printouts of the Alegria client presentation Bob had already started work on, as the whole terrifying scenario had slotted into place.
Nick Delisantro was the only reason she’d got her job back. Mr Crenshawe hadn’t had a sudden change of heart, and if she refused to make the trip he would kick her right back out of the door again.
So she’d agreed to go to Italy.
And then endured seven whole days of extreme agitation while she tried to figure out Nick Delisantro’s motives. Why had he insisted she go with him? When he couldn’t stand the sight of her?
The only possible scenario that had made any sense was that he had devised this trip as some new way of punishing her. As if shouting at her,humiliating her and kicking her out of his apartment weren’t enough.
At first she’d panicked. Horrified at the thought of not only
‘But, Mr Delisantro, Miss Redmond is no longer in our employ,’ Crenshawe said hesitantly.
‘That’s your problem, Henry. Not mine. But let me give you some advice. If she’s not waiting for me at Heathrow a week from tomorrow, you can kiss your commission goodbye.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
E VA reread the monitor in Heathrow’s Terminal Five for the fiftieth time and tried to even her breathing. She was starting to hyperventilate.
‘In the arrivals hall.’ She whispered the words above the hum of conversation and the indecipherable drone of the terminal announcer’s voice.
Pulling the two tickets to Milan out of her handbag, she studied the flight numbers for the twentieth time. Then shoved them back in and fastened the bag.
Think pretty thoughts .
But instead of puppies gambolling on a bed of wild flowers springing to mind, the less-than-pretty picture of Nick, his eyes glittering with contempt, leapt into her head. Her breath clogged her lungs, taking on the consistency of treacle.
Breathe .
She pushed out a breath. Gulped in another.
She’d never had a panic attack before, butseeing Nick Delisantro again was exactly the sort of extreme-stress situation that could trigger one. She sucked in several more painfully shallow breaths, exhaled slowly.
Focus. Because quite apart from the humiliation factor, you don’t have time to pass out .
Nick’s plane from San Francisco was already half an hour late. Their flight to Italy was due to take off in two hours. She had to get them to Terminal One, and ensure they checked in at least an hour prior to take-off. And then…
She swallowed down the lump of treacle cutting off her air supply as heat seeped into her cheeks.
And then she would be spending the next two weeks at Nick Delisantro’s beck and call.
She still wasn’t quite sure how she’d got into this fix. Everything had happened so fast and so unexpectedly. She’d been scouring the job ads last Tuesday morning, trying to figure out a way to make her meagre savings last while she reinvented her shattered career, her confrontation with Mr Crenshawe not making her feel quite as courageous as she would have hoped, when she’d received a frantic call from her ex-boss—begging her to return to work and claiming that her sacking had all been a terrible misunderstanding. When she’d hesitated momentarily, from shock rather than reluctance, he’d immediately doubled her salary as an incentive.
It was only when she’d arrived at work thatafternoon, trying to ignore the inquisitive stares from her co-workers, that she’d discovered the enormous catch in her sudden change of fortunes.
First there had been the astonishing news that she was back on the Alegria account, promptly followed by the heart-stopping information that Nick Delisantro had not only consented to travel to the Duca D’Alegria’s estate in Lake Garda, but that he was insisting she accompany him as Roots Registry’s representative.
She’d left her boss’s office in a daze, her fingers whitening on the printouts of the Alegria client presentation Bob had already started work on, as the whole terrifying scenario had slotted into place.
Nick Delisantro was the only reason she’d got her job back. Mr Crenshawe hadn’t had a sudden change of heart, and if she refused to make the trip he would kick her right back out of the door again.
So she’d agreed to go to Italy.
And then endured seven whole days of extreme agitation while she tried to figure out Nick Delisantro’s motives. Why had he insisted she go with him? When he couldn’t stand the sight of her?
The only possible scenario that had made any sense was that he had devised this trip as some new way of punishing her. As if shouting at her,humiliating her and kicking her out of his apartment weren’t enough.
At first she’d panicked. Horrified at the thought of not only
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