Authors: Carmen Falcone,Michele de Winton
Brash employer? He’s your boss.
Gabby fought with her desire again and squirmed under him. “No. It’s not right. Not here. We’re in the middle of the store for goodness sake. Anyone could walk in on us. And you’re my boss.”
That seemed to get through. Nicolas pulled back, regret written on his face. He took a long look as if drinking her in and instead of blushing, Gabby felt a glow of pride at the way he gazed at her.
“This isn’t over.”
Maybe he’d forgive her for running out on him if they just spent some more time together. Maybe he already had. It had been an assumption that he was tired of her, that he would blame her for her father’s mistakes, not an admission from him. Gabby pulled her shirt together and pushed herself up to sitting.
Uh huh, and, wait, is that a flying pig over there?
As glanced up she saw the clock set in the wall above the exit. “Oh no. Is that the time?” Pulling at her hair and shirt at the same time she tried desperately to tidy herself, fumbling at her buttons and tugging at the straw sticking out in all directions from her head.
“Let me.” Nicolas chuckled. His hands plucked a few strands of straw from her hair before his fingers strayed back to her face. “You look a bit like a scarecrow.”
“Gee thanks.” Glancing at the clock again Gabby bit her lip. There was no time for polite thank yous or nice goodbyes. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
His face fell. “Now?”
“I’m sorry.” She’d already used up her five minutes contingency, if she waited a moment longer she’d be more than just a little late for Fraser’s teacher. Tucking in her shirt as she left, she started for the entrance. “The exit is through here. I’ll tell security that you’re on your way out.” Without waiting for his response she picked up her pace and dialed security as she half walked, half jogged out the store.
Making her way to the subway, Gabby clenched and unclenched her fists. What had she just done? The warmth that had been in Nicolas’s face as they lay in each other’s arms had dropped away when she’d said she had to leave.
Duh.
She’d just managed to run out one of the most powerful men in New York—for the second time! She almost turned on the spot to return and explain. Another passenger bumped her as he ran for his train and she checked her watch. No time.
“It’s not like before though,” she whispered as if to her boss. “This time I haven’t run away completely. You know where to find me.”
It was true, Nicolas Morganti knew where to find her, and how to push every one of her buttons. Through the turmoil of her emotions Gabby made herself take a breath. They needed to put things in reverse. Kissing him was a mistake. Kissing him twice was lunacy. Tomorrow they would talk. Talk and work out a plan for how to be around each other. “Because there’s no way I’m losing my job, so you’re stuck with me.”
Chapter Five
Did she really just run out on him again? Nicolas stood alone in the middle of the reindeer enclosure. He looked down and brushed the mix of clean straw and artificial snow from his tailored pants. What the hell?
Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Nicolas tried to ignore the buzz that pulsed through his fingertips. The sensation of Gabrielle’s skin under them charged through him as if she was still there.
She’s gone. Again.
He spun to go and pushed out of the Santa grotto into the main part of the store. After only ambient fairy lights and the gentle scent of pine, the foyer of Able’s seemed brash and over-lit. Having the commercial reality of why he was there was a good reality check. Nicolas straightened and the buzzing sensation lessened. This store needed to pull in customers in a big way this Christmas, the whole chain depended on it.
He looked behind him at the entrance to the grotto. The installation was spectacular, he had to grant Gabrielle that. Was she really that talented? Could she just be working here by coincidence? Trying to put her life back together? Nicolas stopped a moment to recall the Gabrielle he’d known five years ago. If he didn’t know what he did about her would he have believed she was capable of this?
Maybe.
Her resume had illuminated her background more than what she’d waived off as being
other little jobs
when they’d been together. He got that she wanted to make a name for herself in NYC on her own merit. He respected that. It’s what he’d done. It would have made him like her even more five years ago.
Now though—now it didn’t reverse the fact she had been the one to hand him the pen that signed away his cash, or that she’d disappeared straight afterwards. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and tugged at his thumb. It didn’t sit well with him to dismiss a job well done, no matter who had done it, but it jarred him to give her too much credit without finding out the truth about her real motives. He found it hard to believe that she knew
nothing
about her father’s duplicity. “You might be good with a bit of fabric and a few sparkly lights, but don’t think that’s enough. Trust isn’t something you can create with a nice paint job.”
Saying the words out loud made Nicolas stop in his tracks. Trust. That’s what he was missing. When she had run out on him, Gabrielle Philips had shattered the tiny germ of trust that he’d finally started to build. His grandmother taught him not to trust anyone. The grandmother that had raised him when his parents had been killed in a car accident at Christmas. The grandmother who had always been firm but fair. The Grandmother who would have taken one look at Gabrielle’s dark eyes and full smile and sniffed trouble. And then Gabrielle had gone and proved her right. There was no need to worry about him trusting Ms. Philips or anyone else again.
Gabrielle had no hold over him, they’d always had a fantastic sexual connection but that was all it was. He knew it. She knew it. She knew it all too well in fact. Sure, he’d been the one to kiss her, twice, but he hadn’t been able to help it. The way she crawled in front of him in that tight little skirt. No. He should have controlled himself. Period.
“I’m giving you too much control, Ms. Philips.” He needed to remember that there was no such thing as coincidence. No coincidence she sold her dad as an ace investment advisor, then his money evaporated and she disappeared. No coincidence she started at Able’s the same time money started disappearing. “No coincidence she kisses you back and then runs.” Distract and disappear. It was her MO.
Time to focus. “If you think that’s going to distract me from proving what you’ve been up to you’re very wrong.”
He needed to keep his head in the game as far as Gabrielle was concerned. She was a pro. Hiding her fraudulent trail expertly, making sure he didn’t ask too many questions—well he wasn’t going to fall for it. Not this time.
Then another thought hit him. Had she run off again to be with her new lover? One minute she was in his arms and the next, her thoughts were firmly on another man. How shallow could one woman be?
His earlier resolution hardened. He was going to work out where Gabrielle fitted in the Able’s chain and make sure his money was safe.
Nicolas barked out a humorless laugh. He’d be saving Fraser, whoever he was, the pain of being duped by Ms. Philips at the same time.
Turning to go, Nicolas tapped at his cell and sent an invite to Gabrielle for another meeting tomorrow night. This time there would be no running away. He would make sure of it.
Next day was a busy one with meeting after meeting scheduled. Taking over a commercial retail chain always meant a lot of talking to start with, while everyone worked out where they fit. His final meeting was never very far from his mind though. The email invite he’d sent Gabrielle had told her to meet him at the Morganti Enterprises offices. He needed to pull his A-game to get this professional fraudster to crack, so getting her out of her comfort zone was a start. The finish was going to be something else again. His driver would bring her to his apartment rather than the office. That should throw her guard off, at least to start with.
When five thirty came, he was primed and ready.
As he walked through his apartment door he called out to his housekeeper. “Is everything ready?”
“Yes, sir. The wine is chilling and dinner is in the oven. Salad is in the fridge, it just needs dressing.”
“And everything else?”
“All done, sir. If you want to check before I leave?”
“No, it’s fine. You always do a great job. Have a good evening.”
Nicolas rushed to shower and change then wandered through his apartment to check out what his housekeeper had done. “Huh, good job, Tessa.” Nicolas had given his housekeeper free rein to Christmas-up the place. Free rein and a healthy budget. But he hadn’t expected the slightly frumpy grandmother to come up with anything like this. He did a slow turn to take everything in. The corner of his lounge housed a large Christmas tree festooned with silver baubles, tiny lights and bunches of mistletoe tied with white ribbon. With the main room-lights down low the tree seemed to glow with a warmth that belied the chill of the wind outside and the creep of evening darkness.
He was surprised at how sentimental the grey-haired woman was. Nicolas smiled. With the Christmas bonus he had planned, he’d make sure she’d be able to decorate her own house as well this year. She always said her grandkids loved coming over.
Looking through to the dinner table in his open-plan apartment, Nicolas noted a vase of white and red roses festooned the center and two place settings gleamed. He walked over and lit the candles, watching the flames flicker then hold just as the doorbell rang.
She was on time. Excellent.
“Evening Ms. Philips,” he said as he opened the door. “I hope you don’t mind, but I rescheduled our meeting here for tonight. It was more convenient.”
Her mouth tightened as if she’d been about to say something but thought better of it.
“If you’d like to follow me.” He took her elbow and led her into the hallway. “Your coat?”
“Look I’m sorry I had to leave last night but I really didn’t have any choice.” She crossed her arms across her chest.
She was nervous, Nicolas realized. Nervous about being with him? Or about losing her job.
She should be nervous of both.
“That’s why we’re meeting tonight.”
“But…” She peered behind him. “Is this your apartment?”
He raised an eyebrow and held out his hand for her coat again. “Yes. Will you come in? It’s quite warm enough to not need any extra layers inside.”
She shucked off her heavy woolen overcoat and Nicolas noted the worn collar, the missing button and the purple color that she wouldn’t have been caught dead in five years ago. There was obviously more going on for Gabrielle Philips than she let on at work. Or at least that’s what she wanted him to think.
“If you’ll follow me?” he said and walked into the kitchen. “Wine?” He poured a generous splash of Chardonnay into two glasses and passed one to her. “You like white if I remember correctly.”
She nodded and took the glass, her eyes flicking behind him through to the dining room with its elaborate setting. The flicker of disappointment flared and faded across her face as he watched her. “You’re expecting company. I’m sorry to intrude.”
“Not at all
. I
made the meeting.” No need to play the jealousy card. He had plenty of other ways to make sure he stayed firmly in control. Was she thinking about the fact that he’d never invited her to his apartment before? Probably.
He picked up the bottle and his glass and continued walking through into the lounge and sat on the solitary white leather sofa. She followed him dutifully, her face giving away nothing of the confusion he hoped would be churning through her mind.
“Will you sit?” he patted the sofa beside him.
She looked quickly around but the only seating options were the sofa and a small leather ottoman in front of it. Perching on the cushioned foot stool she looked anything but comfortable and took a large slug of the wine.
Nicolas smiled and slid closer towards her. “I figured we’d got off to a bad start.” He said smoothly. “I like what you’ve done in the store. I hoped you’d be able to tell me more about it. More about what you’ve been up to these last years.” Nicolas smiled and took a sip of his wine, watching to see if she bought it.
Hook, line and sinker.
There it was, a tiny blush just at the base of her throat. It was a wonder Gabrielle had done so well cheating people out of their money, her ‘tell’ should have been obvious to even an average poker player. But then her ‘tell’ only indicated when she was excited, not when she was lying, and who but a poker player looked for a woman’s give away signals in casual conversation.
I do.
Gabrielle bit her lip and took another swig of wine. “It’s been quite hard.”
“I can imagine. Do you visit your father often?”
She started. “I don’t think he intended it to turn out the way it did…”