Taught by the Tycoon Page 3

  “I suppose I’m a little guilty of that at times,” he admitted. “I’m not sure I could give you a crash course lecture on what it’s like to be the woman in my life.” He paused and gave her a pointed look. “Or this other man’s life.”

  “Right. I understand, of course.” Rachel nodded, and she looked suitably disappointed.

  An idea slid into his head and took root. “It might be much more effective if you just came with me to a social event.”

  Their food arrived and he turned his attention momentarily to the plate before him. He sliced into the Kobe steak and then took a bite, savoring the beef almost as much as Rachel’s astonished expression.

  “So, what do you think?”

  Chapter 5

  What did she think? How the hell was she supposed to respond to that? What did it even mean?

  “I...surely you can’t be serious?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” He gave a slight shrug.

  “Because you’re my boss.” She gripped her fork so tight she was amazed it didn’t break in half. “We’re already blurring the professional line by going out to dinner tonight.”

  “Rachel.” He set his own fork down and folded his hands on the table. “We grew up together, your brother is one of my closest friends, and you’ve worked for me for the past three years now.”

  She hesitated. “Okay, yes, but—”

  “We spend quite a bit of time together. It’s not unnatural that we’d develop a friendship of our own.”

  “You consider us,” she paused, trying to digest his words, “friends?”

  “Do you disagree?”

  “No, it’s just, you don’t have friends,” she blurted. “Well beyond Theo, who you don’t even see anymore.”

  Fortunately he looked amused as he reached for his fork again. “Hmm.”

  “Okay, so that came out wrong. I mean, jeez, I’m so sorry.” She bit her lip. “It’s just that I never see you with anyone besides women. It’s not as if I see you go out with the guys to a Yankees game or anything.”

  “No, I don’t. Besides the fact, I prefer football. Or, wait, soccer as you Americans prefer to call it.” He frowned, glancing at her plate. “Is something wrong with your pheasant?”

  “No. No of course not.” She quickly cut a piece and popped it in her mouth. After swallowing the bite, and vaguely noting it was freaking amazing, she gave an overtly bright smile. “It’s wonderful.”

  “Good.” A smile tugged at his lips as he continued to eat. A few minutes later, he murmured, “Perhaps you’re right. My friends might fall more in the acquaintance category. I am quite selective with those whom I trust in life.”

  She nodded, knowing that about him. “I am too.”

  “So you’ll do it then?”

  “Do what?”

  “Accompany me to a social event.”

  “It’s not weird? You don’t think—”

  “I don’t think anything. And you overthink too much.”

  “Yes, I know I do,” she agreed absently. “So I would go as your, um, personal assistant? That would be a little awkward.”

  He took another bite, chewing slowly, and seemed to be either enjoying the beef immensely or in deep thought.

  After a drink of wine a moment later, he met her gaze. “Or you could accompany me as my date.”

  Rachel missed the bite of meat she’d been trying to stab, and her fork screeched across the plate. Her mouth went dry and her pulse went into double time.

  His date.

  He laughed softly. “We would not actually be dating, Rachel. The world is accustomed to seeing me with a woman on my arms. Why shouldn’t it be you?”

  Of course. Why shouldn’t it be me? Struggling not to let out the disbelieving laugh in her throat, she reached for her wine. Crap, it was empty.

  “It would be a pretense,” she stated unsteadily.

  “Of course.”

  “But they’ll know me as your P.A.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Would it really matter?”

  She usually stayed beneath any media radar. And she’d be even more unrecognizable if she got all dolled up in a fancy dress and makeup—which is what she assumed would be required for the type of social events he frequented. Her stomach churned.

  “And if the media asks about me?” She knew the tabloids. They were relentless with him. They would want to know the latest girl on his arm.

  “We’ll tell them the truth.”

  “That I’m your P.A.?”

  “Of course, and that you’re the sister of a good friend, whom I am taking around New York.”

  This was a bad idea. Everything inside her screamed that it was. She’d hoped Damiano would have some dating advice, but instead he was asking her to pretend to be his date for an evening.

  When he moved to refill her wine, she shook her head in dismissal. She needed to keep her thoughts straight.

  “Something to think about anyway.” He smiled, flashing beautiful white teeth, before he turned back to his dinner.

  Something to think about for sure.

  Despite her protests, Damiano requested his driver take Rachel home.

  He stared out the window, observing the Brooklyn neighborhood with some fascination. He rarely left Manhattan, and when he did it was on a helicopter or his private jet, to be whisked away to somewhere outside of the city.

  Rachel had been silent nearly the whole ride, but he’d felt her gaze sliding to him now and then.

  She was tempted by his offer, he could well see this. What he couldn’t understand was why she hesitated. Surely he was offering her exactly what she wanted, wasn’t he?

  This would be a slow, non-threatening way to test the waters of a physical relationship between them.

  And, hell, but with the way she sat tucked into the corner of his vehicle, all wide-eyed and nibbling her lip, he very much wanted to make things physical.

  Again, he wondered what it would be like to slide across the seat and undo that braid. To unfasten the first few buttons on her blouse and slide his hand inside.

  When they arrived at her apartment, he followed her from the car when she would’ve fled alone.

  “Give me five minutes, Bradley,” he instructed his driver.

  “There’s no need to walk me to the door,” Rachel said with a quick glance back at him.

  “What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t?”

  She muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “I don’t know, like every other guy in New York?”

  She paused outside the door to the building. “I can manage from here, thank you.”

  “What floor are you?”

  “Fifth.” She typed in the code to get into the building.

  He stepped in past her. “I could use the exercise after that dinner.”

  She snorted. “You look like a body builder in a designer suit, you hardly need to worry about a few extra calories.”

  He arched a brow and gestured for her to move past him.

  “Not like grotesquely big muscles,” she rushed to say as she moved up the stairs. “Just, you know, all nicely defined and... dammit, how much wine did I have tonight?”

  Letting loose a laugh of genuine amusement, he watched her gently rounded bottom ascend the stairs.

  “Sometime I hate my mouth, so I’m just going to go ahead and shut it now,” she muttered, as she paused outside an apartment on the fifth floor. She gestured needlessly to the closed door. “This is me. My home.”

  “Indeed.”

  “You can go now.”

  “Can I?”

  She groaned. “I mean, thank you for seeing me safely to my apartment. I’m being absolutely horrendous with my manners tonight.”

  “You’re fine,” he assured, and didn’t immediately leave, but instead stepped closer, halting her from unlocking her door. “About my offer at dinner. I have a gala tomorrow night and find myself without a date. We could begin a lesson immediately if you should decide to accept.”
/>
  She gawked at him, as if he’d invited her to another planet instead of a gala.

  “Tomorrow.” Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “But I couldn’t—I mean, I don’t have anything dressy enough to wear. I’d need to see if I could borrow—”

  “There’ll be no need for that.” Unable to stop himself, he reached up to tuck a strand of hair, which had escaped her braid, behind her ear.

  Her eyes widened slightly.

  “All you need to do is say yes, Rachel, and I’ll see that it’s taken care of.”

  He needed her to say yes for more than one reason. She had no idea, but she’d actually be doing him a great favor by accompanying him. The idea had taken root while at dinner.

  Her gaze searched his, and he could see the hesitation in her eyes. And the temptation.

  And then she gave the tiniest of nods. “If you’re sure it wouldn’t be a bother. I wouldn’t mind tagging along to one of these things. Seeing if I can handle it.”

  He gave a brief smile. “I don’t mind in the slightest. I’ll come around tomorrow to collect you.”

  “Okay.” Her nod was stronger now, before she turned around to unlock her door.

  “And Rachel?”

  “Hmm?” She glanced over her shoulder.

  “I actually quite like your mouth.”

  I quite like your mouth?

  Groggy and half awake the next morning, Rachel lay in bed and stared at the ceiling of her apartment.

  What on earth had those words meant?

  It had been the oddest parting remark Damiano had ever left her with. Then again, everything about last night had been odd.

  Damiano, her boss, had invited her to go along with him to a fancy gala. But it wasn’t a date. Right? Though, he’d sort of used the term.

  She shook her head against the pillow and scowled. She was completely overthinking this. Of course it wasn’t an actual date, per say. He was simply being nice and helping her out. It was completely...not in his realm.

  Damiano was a man who valued his time. Especially his time with the opposite sex. And without a doubt, she knew some other woman had gotten her date canceled tonight so Rachel could take her place.

  The realization had her stomach flipping a bit and she hated that she had such a feminine reaction.

  Even though she rarely let herself think about it, her mind drifted back to that night in Paris months ago...

  Chapter 6

  “There’s a dinner tonight with several people from our Paris marketing team. I assume you’ll be joining us, Rachel?”

  Rachel bit her lip as another round of chills rocked through her body. It had been a challenge to get through the last hour of meetings as it was.

  “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll take dinner in my room.” She attempted a smile as they stepped through the glass doors that led into the upscale hotel.

  Damiano gave her a quick glance. “You’re quite sure? It’s not required, of course, but we enjoy your company.”

  “I think I may be coming down with something,” she admitted. “I should probably nip it in the bud and rest tonight.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry to hear that. Do you need anything?”

  Just a bed, she thought tiredly.

  “Thank you, but I’ll be fine.”

  When she arrived at her room a few minutes later, she was covered in a light sweat and trembling.

  She unzipped her dress with fumbling fingers and pushed it off her body, before collapsing on the bed in just her bra and panties.

  She had a fever, no doubt about it. There was no need for a thermometer to confirm the suspicion.

  Despite knowing she should probably lie on top of the blankets, she was so cold that she climbed beneath the sheets and pulled the blankets up to her chin.

  Her stomach growled, but she ignored it. Maybe she was hungry, but the thought of moving one inch from this bed made every muscle in her body protest.

  She closed her eyes and groaned softly. Paris was one of her favorite cities—especially for food—and now here she was, laid up in bed with some kind of illness.

  Her cell phone buzzed and she opened her eyes briefly to stare across the room at where it remained in her purse. She would check who’d texted later. It was entirely too far away right now.

  Her lashes fluttered down once more as she felt the heavy cloud of sleep pulling her under.

  At one point there was another ringing, and she almost opened her eyes to acknowledge it, but by the time she’d summoned the energy it had stopped.

  What finally woke her was the cool hand against her forehead. She struggled out of the thick sleep, and when her lashes fluttered open she found herself staring into Damiano’s concerned gaze.

  “You have a fever.”

  “So it seems.” Though she felt slightly better than she had when she’d first stumbled in here.

  At some point she’d kicked off the comforter, and now was only covered by the thin sheet. She probably should’ve been more self-conscious about that, but she was technically still covered up, and it really would’ve been a waste of energy.

  “I texted to check on you, and when you didn’t reply I came back early from dinner and had the front desk call you.” His brows were drawn together. “I was concerned when you didn’t answer and had an employee let me in your room.”

  “And of course they did.” She gave a smile that had to be somewhat loopy. She certainly felt a little loopy. “Because you’re Damiano Mantovani, and nobody ever tells you no.”

  Instead of looking offended or amused by her words, he just seemed more concerned.

  “You really are quite sick.”

  “It’s only a bug of sorts.” Her lashes drifted closed again when they became too heavy to keep open. “I just need to sleep.”

  The fingers that touched her forehead again were gentle and comforting, but there was something else. It was as if every hair on her body lifted in awareness as he traced his fingers down and lightly over her cheek.

  Her heart began a slow thud and she lifted her lashes again. Her gaze seemed to be drawn by a magnet to his. He looked almost startled as he glanced at his fingers against her cheek, and then he quickly withdrew his touch.

  She must’ve imagined it, because a moment later he looked completely calm and collected as he reached behind him for a paper bag.

  “I had the restaurant prepare you food. Coq au vin.”

  Now that he’d mentioned it, she could faintly smell the French chicken dish, which was one of her favorites. Her stomach growled in appreciation.

  “Thank you. That was very kind of you.” She wanted to sit up, but knew that would draw attention to how undressed she was beneath the sheet.

  He seemed to realize it as well, because his gaze slid over her nearly naked shoulders, and he gave a brisk nod and stood.

  “Now that I’ve ensured you are alive, I’ll leave you in peace with your food.”

  Her glance slid to the clock. “You didn’t need to leave your dinner early.”

  “It wasn’t an inconvenience, I promise.” He headed toward the door. “I’ll have the hotel send up something for your fever in a bit. Please, sleep as long as you must tomorrow.”

  Her chilled body warred with a surprising liquid heat that ran through her veins as she watched his tall, dark frame disappear from her room.

  For some reason her pulse seemed a bit faster, and her cheek still felt a little tingly from where he’d touched it.

  Shaking her head, she wrote it off as low blood sugar and reached for the food...

  The brief knock on her door snapped Rachel back from the memory of that night in Paris, and back to her small Brooklyn apartment.

  “Come in.”

  Knowing exactly who it would be, Rachel was ready with a smile when her roommate Lexi stepped into the room.

  “Morning. Are we still on for yoga?” The petite blonde was decked out in workout clothes and staring down at her with her hands on her hips. She arch
ed a brow. “I’m going to guess no, since your butt is still in bed, but maybe you’ll surprise me.”

  “Yoga,” Rachel repeated blankly. “Oh my gosh, I completely spaced it, Lex. I’m sorry, it’s just... I’ve, um, made other plans.”

  “That sounds ambiguous.” Lexi raised her brows. “Almost as ambiguous as the guy standing in our living room right now.”

  “What?” Rachel lurched out of bed, grabbing her bathrobe and tugging it on. “He can’t be here yet. I didn’t even hear him knock.”

  “To be fair, he only got in one good knock before I opened the door. I was putting on my shoes in the hallway.”

  Heart quickening, Rachel moved past her roommate out of the room and down the hall. Sure enough, Damiano stood in their small living room, staring at the collage of photographs on the wall.

  “You’re early,” she blurted.

  He turned to face her, a tiny smile on his lips. “I said tomorrow.”

  They hadn’t said an actual time, she realized, but it was not even ten in the morning.

  “I haven’t showered.”

  “So I see.” His gaze did a quick sweep from the top of her head down to her bare toes.

  Warmth seemed to follow where his gaze touched, and the hairs on her body lifted. Then it hit her.

  Oh dear god. She was actually standing in front of Damiano in her bathrobe, with complete bedhead, gawking at him like he was some tourist attraction.

  “I’ve clearly caught you off guard, and for that I apologize.” He grimaced. “How about I’ll return in an hour with coffee and breakfast?”

  She blinked, trying to form a response. It was as if they were switching places. Get her coffee? She usually brought him coffee.

  “All right,” she agreed, tightening the belt of her robe around her waist.

  His gaze slipped beyond her. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.”

  Rachel glanced behind her and grimaced. “No, you haven’t. So sorry. Damiano, this is my roommate and best friend Alexis. Alexis, this is Damiano Mantovani. My boss.”