Visconti's Forgotten Heir. Elizabeth Power

eyes were raking over her face as though looking for signs of her earlier weakness, but his subtle reference to that kiss they had shared earlier was far too disconcerting and Magenta swallowed, taking a step back.

      ‘Do you have a point?’

      That smile touched his lips again as he moved around her, away from the door.

      ‘Ah, the same old Magenta. Always cutting to the chase.’

      ‘I’m in a hurry.’

      ‘Of course. Your other interviews.’ His tone mocked. ‘However, despite all your accusations and suspicions regarding my ulterior motives, there is another position becoming vacant in this company.’

      ‘There is?’ Magenta’s heart gave a little leap of hope, although she was still viewing him with suspicion.

      ‘Another PA is taking an indefinite spell of leave,’ he told her with a grimace. ‘Rather sooner than we expected her to. We haven’t yet found anyone suitable to fill the post.’

      ‘And you’re offering me the position?’ Something like relief started to trickle through her veins. Could this mean that there was an end in sight to her endless and ever-increasing money worries? That she wouldn’t be forced to impose on her great-aunt’s generosity when Josie had given so much of herself already?

      ‘Why so surprised, Magenta? Your CV looks promising, if a little lacking in experience, and it does say that you can start right away. The PA in question is taking time off to look after her mother during a period of scheduled surgical operations and she’s expected to be away for four or five months. She’s the one, incidentally, whom you were trying very hard not to let me catch you looking at in the bar the other night. I was trying to talk her out of going so soon, but circumstances dictate that I have to be a gentleman about it and comply with her wishes. In short, Magenta, you’ll be working for me.’

      A tremulous little laugh left her lips—something between amazement and utter disbelief. ‘Tell me you’re joking?’ A crushing disappointment was replacing her premature relief.

      ‘I never joke about business matters.’

      ‘Why? Why, when you so obviously don’t like me, would you want to employ me?’

      ‘You know...I’ve asked myself that very question,’ he said.

      He moved closer to her—close enough to reach out and lift her chin between his thumb and forefinger. His warmth seared her skin, making her catch her breath.

      ‘And?’ It came out as a croak. She was trying not to let him affect her, trying not to breathe in the tantalising freshness of his cologne.

      He shrugged. ‘I need an assistant. You’re looking for a position.’

      ‘I had a position—or as good as,’ she interjected. ‘Until you came and snatched it from me.’

      His hand fell away from her, although his eyes never left her face. ‘Well, maybe I’m just nursing a masochistic need to have you working for me.’

      ‘So you can remind me every day of how badly I treated you?’ If she had treated him badly. Think! she urged herself, but nothing would come.

      Andreas’s laugh was infused with irony. ‘I thought I made that clear when I saw you last Friday? Your actions in the past left no indelible marks.’

      ‘Well, that’s all right, then, isn’t it?’ she breathed, silently disturbed by his chilling declaration. ‘And you’d still take me on after you’ve intimated that the job I was applying for was out of my league. This is obviously a far more responsible position, and you’ve already said I’m lacking in experience. What makes you imagine I’m up to meeting all your requirements?’

      ‘Oh, you’ll meet them, Magenta. Rest assured about that.’

      He wasn’t saying anything, but something in the dark penetration of his eyes made her shiver. Somehow he didn’t seem to be just talking about his requirements of a PA.

      ‘Well, thanks, but no thanks,’ she said, turning away.

      ‘You’ll walk away knowing that the lease on your flat is hanging in the balance and that you don’t even have the resources to renew it?’

      She swung round to face him, the tears she had been fighting since the moment he’d strode in and ripped all her hopes apart now glistening unashamedly in her eyes. ‘How did you know that?’

      ‘You’ve just confirmed it,’ he said. ‘Apart from which one of my colleagues who attended your first interview mentioned the letter that you asked for.’

      ‘The letter?’ she murmured, and was suddenly mortifyingly aware of what he meant.

      She’d made a fool of herself at that first interview by prematurely believing, from the way the conversation was going, that they were already offering her the job. She’d been so desperately relieved that she’d asked if she could have their offer in a formal letter, which she could pass on to her landlord’s agents. It didn’t take half a brain—let alone a keen mind like his—to work out the reason why.

      ‘So you decided to capitalise on my misfortune?’

      ‘I’m offering you a job.’

      ‘Not the sort I’m willing to take.’

      ‘On the contrary, Magenta. I think you’ll take any job you can get. And may I point out that I’m not the one implying anything improper? You are.’

      ‘You’re not?’

      ‘No. And I’m not sure what you’re getting so falsely modest and indignant about,’ he stated. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time you’d sold yourself to the highest bidder.’

      It was obvious that he believed what he was saying, and that he would never cease to remind her of it or to exact retribution for it—which was the only reason, she was sure, that he was offering her the position now.

      ‘I’ve never sold myself!’ she emphasised, trying to ignore the goading little voice inside her head that was asking, How do you know? ‘I haven’t,’ she reiterated, trying to convince herself in spite of it. ‘And I’m not selling myself to you, Andreas,’ she tagged on. But there was desolation in her eyes as she realised that for her own sake, and especially for Theo’s welfare, she had very little choice but to accept his offer.

      His mouth compressed with evident satisfaction as a knock on the door announced the arrival of the coffee.

      ‘Well, we’ll see, shall we?’ he said, knowing as well as she did that she was beaten.