Leah's Seduction: 1 (Gianni and Leah)

GIANNI AND LEAH

LEAH’S SEDUCTION 1

A Rinaldi Romance

By

Emily Jane Trent

Chapter 1

Leah sat on the bottom of the staircase in her tiny New York apartment. Though no one was there to see, a warm flush washed over her body. She’d die if anyone read her private journal. Yet it was missing.

It was likely that a perfect stranger was turning the pages, soaking in her most intimate thoughts. She buried her face in her arms, but couldn’t find the strength to weep.

The last few weeks had been rough, with her mother’s cancer and all. Sylvie Ivers was only in her late forties, and such a life-threatening disease had never been something to worry about. Until it had happened.

It was all so sudden, and emotionally devastating. Sitting in the hospital, looking into her mother’s blue eyes, her skin pale and her features so delicately fragile, Leah thought her heart would break. The fear that her mother would die consumed her. It couldn’t be true. And so far, it wasn’t.

But the situation remained tentative. So Leah didn’t need more stress. She had just returned from Portland, leaving her parents and two sisters behind. At least her mother was at home, resting. The prognosis was somewhat encouraging.

One day at a time
, Leah reminded herself. She’d always been close to her mother—both parents, really. Sylvie’s delicate beauty had been bestowed on Leah’s younger sisters, but had somehow missed her. Though she did inherit her father’s brown eyes.

The journal. Leah groaned. Any other woman wouldn’t be careless enough to carry such a valued item outside her own apartment. But then any other woman would have a boyfriend, go to parties, and engage in casual sex. None of that fit Leah’s personality or lifestyle.

No, she had to write everything down in blue ink within the pages of a beige leather journal. It should have been red leather, considering the content. The endless scribbling onto paper helped release the frustration that seemed to have no resolution.

Reflecting once more on what she’d had the nerve to write down, Leah sighed heavily. It had to be there. Determined to find the missing item and restore some semblance of order to her life, she scoured every inch of her five-hundred-square-foot apartment.

Residential space was at a premium in Manhattan. Through fashion school, Leah had scraped by, enduring a rented room. It was the only place she had been able to afford. Once she had secured a steady job, finding her own place had been next.

The interior design took advantage of the high ceilings more than the narrow width. The blond wood floors met with a blond wood staircase that led to a loft bed. Not a bedroom, as the space was insufficient. But the mattress, covered with a cozy quilt, and nestled on a platform that was just big enough for it, was comforting.

Considering that Leah wouldn’t likely be entertaining men, it didn’t matter. As a further economy, each stair doubled as a storage compartment. One by one, Leah opened the lids and rifled through the contents. No journal.

There was little chance it would be in her narrow, galley-like kitchen, but she had to try. Not one inch went unsearched, yet Leah came up empty-handed. Having already looked in the bathroom, no bigger than an oversized cupboard, she was out of ideas.

The electrifying realization that anyone could be reading her journal at that very moment knotted her stomach.

Yet she had to get to work. There was a big event she needed to prepare for. The job she’d secured at Barrington’s showroom was a lucky break. The reason she’d been considered was because her friend, Kyra Walsh, knew the marketing manager.

The position as marketing coordinator was entry level, but Leah intended to climb the ladder to success quickly. Her personal life may be a shambles, but her professional life would not be. That was where she excelled, and she knew it.

It was best to put the issue of the lost journal out of her mind, but that wasn’t easy. All the way to work, Leah agonized. If only she could remember where she had lost it. But then it wouldn’t be lost in that case. Since it had been used for the purpose of jotting down intimate thoughts, she hadn’t written her address in it, though she vaguely remembered writing her name inside the front cover.

The city was huge, and riding the subway, strolling through the park, and visiting numerous restaurants and coffee shops left too many possibilities as to where it could be. It would be too much to hope that it was in a lost-and-found somewhere, and would be handed back to her when she reappeared at the establishment.

Jostling her leather bag on her lap, Leah hugged it tight. Closing her eyes, she forced her mind away from the loss of the soft leather book filled with her most precious longings, fantasies, and confessed inadequacies. The desperate search of her apartment had produced nothing.

At best, it would turn up. Unread. Not much chance of that.

At worst, someone who had never met her, and never would, devoured her secrets one line at a time. She could only hope the person would destroy the journal out of decency. Praying that was the case wouldn’t help. Whatever was going to happen already had.

Leah hadn’t seen the journal in weeks. When she had received the emergency call and immediately left for home, she had just packed a few things in a rush. Had it been in her apartment or her leather bag then? Or had it already been lost without her being aware of it?

Getting off at her stop, Leah squared her shoulders. She had to move on and forget about it. There was nothing else to do. Striding toward the showroom and still a bit anxious about making a good impression with her new boss, she dredged up a positive attitude, far from how she felt.

*****

The Beauty and Retail Symposium was the highlight of the following week. The event presented influential business leaders in a panel format. They were to address global issues and the changing dynamics of the fashion world. As the marketing coordinator for Barrington, her attendance was mandatory.

Leah’s boss expected her to keep an eye on changing trends and make suitable recommendations. It was exactly what she’d been trained for, and the sole purpose of her Fashion Marketing degree. Staying on the cutting edge of the rapidly evolving fashion industry, and creating effective marketing strategies, was her talent.

Yet studying it in college was different from experiencing it in the real world. Though she’d only been working in her chosen career for a matter of months, Leah had already come to realize that social interaction was more a part of success than she had anticipated.

She was more at ease in the confines of an office, though she did adore everything about the fashion world. At five feet six, Leah was too short to be a model. Not that she had the looks to strut down catwalks displaying the latest designs.

And she had no skill in designing, though she admired those who did. Leah’s inclination had been toward marketing, which seemed odd for someone who was basically shy. However, in the business world, she came alive. Never short of marketing ideas, she was well suited for her chosen career.

But fashion shows and public events unnerved her.

Stepping inside the lobby of the grand hotel, Leah felt instantly diminished. The luxury and opulence contrasted with the simple dress she wore, and made her acutely aware that it was too conservative. And that the matching pumps were too casual.

Bronze drapes hung every few feet, skimming the polished floor. Looking up, she saw they extended all the way to the high ceiling, past the upper mezzanine. Huge, plush, matching velvet couches lined the walls. The quilted backs were higher than the heads of the guests who sat in them, nearly dwarfing even the taller men.

The dark and light brown pattern in the floor was in the shape of endless mazes, making Leah dizzy. She only hoped she wouldn’t slip in her dress shoes and go sliding down the center lobby aisle. Gripping the strap of her bag, she searched for a hint as to where the symposium was being held. Distracted, the packet of information about the event slipped from her hand and skidded away.

Leah took two quick steps to retrieve it. Before she could reach it, the tip of a man’s black leather wingtip shoe caught the corner of the envelope, arresting its slide across the floor. And when she bent down to scoop it up, the man attached to the shoe did too.

He reached it first, and lifted the packet in his hand as he stood. Then he held out his other hand to help her up. The first thing that hit Leah was the scent of his cologne. It wasn’t strong like some, but enticing.

With her hand in his, Leah stood, catching the first glimpse of his face on the way up. His sandy blond hair was messy, with a few spikes gelled into place. His blue-gray eyes pierced into her, and her pulse sped up. Whoever he was, this guy was sexy as hell.

He handed her the packet, which she took in her shaking hand. “I see you are attending the symposium.”

Just those few words rocked her soul. The timbre of his voice and his confident tone affected her in a way she didn’t recognize.

“Yes,” she managed to utter. “You too?”

He nodded. “Are you okay?”

Leah nodded, though she wasn’t entirely sure what state she was in.

The heartthrob held out his hand again. “I’m Gianni Rinaldi.”

Shaking his hand was so much more than a mere greeting, and Leah wished she didn’t have to let go. “I’m Leah Ivers.”

The look he gave her undressed her on the spot, though any outsider wouldn’t have noticed anything. It was as if he could see inside and perceive what she felt, when she didn’t even know. He was unlike any man she had met before, and Leah realized she was staring.

She was sure she couldn’t have been the first. In fact, even as they stood in the middle of the lobby, Leah noticed women discreetly glancing at him. Though their looks were obvious. With her legs a bit wobbly, she hugged the packet to her chest.

“See you inside, then,” Gianni said.

When he turned and walked away, Leah couldn’t help but gawk. Even in his dress clothes, his ass looked fine. It was tight, and just round enough. While she should have been following him to the conference room, she stood there, fantasizing about touching him.

The brief encounter required a trip to the ladies’ room so she could catch her breath and regroup. Still trembling, Leah went inside a stall and leaned against the locked door. Something had just happened out there, and she was unable to get her wits around it.

Of course, he was sexy. Too sexy. As if that were possible. But there was something in his look, something she saw in his eyes, that she couldn’t decipher. Yet it had shaken her to the core. Making an effort to breathe and calm down, Leah didn’t move for several minutes.

When she did, she made an effort to rearrange her long, honey blond hair, and dab at what little makeup she’d worn. Very little good it did. Leah still looked shaken. She’d find a place in the back of the meeting room, so Gianni would be in front of her. That way he wouldn’t see her, but she could watch him.

Good plan. And it worked. Because as soon as Leah stepped into the enormous conference room, and secured a chair as far back as she could manage, she spotted him. Gianni was on stage, obviously one of the presenters.

Then it dawned on her: Gianni Rinaldi, the owner of GR Showroom. He owned one of the biggest showrooms in New York, standing out among the thousands of showrooms. Pretty impressive. What was even more impressive was the way he looked in the dusted-rose dress shirt tucked into his sleek gray slacks, making her want to grab the silver tie he wore and haul him close for a kiss.

Leah tried to recall if she’d seem pictures of him before. Maybe. But if she had, the photograph hadn’t done him justice. The shirt clung to his muscled arms and chest, leaving no doubt that he frequented the gym. Her eyes lingered over his narrow waist and hips, and it took more strength than she had to keep her imagination from running wild.

The presentations began, but Leah only had eyes for one man. The others could have been talking about an upcoming trip to the moon for all she knew. The speeches did little to distract her, and she knew she’d leave with her notepad blank. The only words she wrote were:
Gianni Rinaldi
. It was as if writing his name down confirmed that she had actually met him.

Not that it meant anything. Of course it didn’t. He was at the top of the list of eligible bachelors in the New York fashion world. And a hunk she wouldn’t soon forget. But Leah wasn’t even in his league. He was wealthy, having built a successful business while still in his mid-twenties.

She was clinging to a starting position in the industry. Even worse was that he had his pick of women. In the fashion scene, there was no shortage of them. Leah was presentable, but not striking. Or so she envisioned. And she was a subpar dresser, considering her career choice.

For once, she wished she wasn’t so inept with makeup and hair, as then she might have made a better impression on Gianni. Since it was her one and only private meeting, so to speak, Leah had lost her chance. But she couldn’t push his image out of her mind. And she couldn’t forget those blue-gray eyes.