Captivated By Her Italian Boss. Rosanna Battigelli

chance of bumping into her. No, he never wanted to see her face again.

      This was a cruel twist of fate, watching an interview with the same girl who, eight years later, was applying for a job as a nanny for his niece. Only she wasn’t a girl anymore. Her pretty looks as a teenager had blossomed into what he had to admit could only be called stunning.

      Her fair skin was luminescent, with a faint smattering of freckles over her nose and peach-tinted cheeks, and that mane of hair, although restrained in a loose chignon, seemed even more burnished. Her eyes, never close enough for him to determine their exact color, were a dark bluish-green that reminded him of the sea in winter. And that mouth. Her lipstick was a luscious magenta pink, the same color as the delicious inner fruit of the cactus pear.

      She could be a sea witch, he thought, a modern Scylla, the whirlpool in the waters off the coast that was personified in Greek mythology as a female monster impeding the way of the hero Odysseus...

      Davide watched as Neve’s eyes shifted to the camera. She leaned forward and her face filled the screen. He swallowed, his pulse drumming wildly as a corner of her mouth lifted and she nodded. And then said “Grazie,” her witch eyes never blinking once.

      Twelve interviews, and none of the applicants had impressed him. Until the thirteenth. Thirteen was a lucky number for Italians. But the last thing he felt now was lucky. If it had been anybody but Neve, he’d have hired her on the spot. Her qualifications were spot-on; her answers had been genuine. She had seemed so humble, so caring and devoted. How could this be the same Neve who had arrogantly put him down and rejected him?

      Bianca needed a competent nanny. She would be starting school in a couple of months, and the trauma of losing her parents had shattered her world. None of her previous nannies had worked out. The first hadn’t been sensitive enough, the second had been caught snooping through his desk papers and the third had shown more interest in wanting to help him through his grief, using her physical allure...

      Bianca’s occasional tantrums and crying outbursts had increased. Davide’s gut was telling him to offer Neve the job.

      His bruised heart was pounding, No!

      Davide watched as Neve shut down her laptop. He stared blindly at the screen and let the voices in his head battle it out. The memories of Neve in Valdoro eight years ago clashed with his fresh memories of the interview. Wearily, he finally stood up from his desk and drummed his fingers along the edge before buzzing for Lucia in the smaller office next to him.

      “What did you think of the last applicant?” he said curtly in Italian.

      “She was the best, Signor Cortese.”

      Davide trusted Lucia’s opinion; she was his valued research assistant and friend, and genuinely cared for Bianca. When she addressed him in such a formal manner, he knew she was very serious.

      “Yes...she was,” he murmured, his fingers beginning to tap again.

      He cleared his throat. This wasn’t about him, he tried to convince himself. He had to do this for Bianca. What were the chances of finding someone as perfect as Neve Wilder for the position of nanny?

      “Send her an email offering her the position. Sign it with your name, not mine. And tell her her flight and all travel costs will be covered. Rail, hotel, food, everything. I understand she’s finished with her school year toward the end of June. I want her here for the first or second of July. Please and thank you.”

      “Prego, Davide. Let’s hope for the best.” She gave his hand a reassuring pat and left the room.

      Davide sat back down at his massive sixteenth-century carved walnut desk. He opened a drawer, and then reached farther into a hidden back drawer and retrieved a folded note. His heart thudding, he gently opened it and read the message inside:

      I will not meet you.

      Your bold request is inappropriate and offensive. You would do well to remember your place.

      Neve

      Davide felt the heat rise from his chest to his neck and face. The silly note still got to him. His jaw clenched. Eight summers ago, Neve Wilder had succeeded in humiliating him and putting him in his place with her arrogant reply.

      And now she’d be working for him. How could he not help feeling even the tiniest temptation to put her in her place?

       CHAPTER TWO

      THIS NANNY JOB, if she got it, would be like winning the lottery, Neve thought wistfully. She wanted to get away. No, she needed to get away. Her mother, who was controlling at the best of times, had become especially clingy and obtrusive lately.

      Neve sighed. She wished that some of the attention her mother was directing toward her nowadays had been given when her father had died and afterward. Neve could still remember feeling heartbroken and confused in her youth. Devastated that her dear father would no longer accompany her to any of her school events or swimming lessons, or read her any fairy tales at bedtime, and bewildered by her mother’s emotional distance. While her mother had eased her grief with a drink while staring out a window, Neve had often cried herself to sleep hugging the plush dragon her father had bought her for her seventh birthday. Her eyes prickled at the memory of her dear father, always encouraging, never judgmental of her or others.

       Unlike her mother.

      It hadn’t taken Neve long in her youth to recognize certain traits in her mother that made her feel uncomfortable, especially in public. Lois Wilder, who had enjoyed a wealthy lifestyle since she was young, expected and often demanded service from others. Saw herself as above certain people. Neve had become embarrassed more than once by her mother’s arrogant demeanor, even with some of her school friends. Whenever she had brought a friend over, Lois had always asked them about their parents’ jobs, scrutinized their clothing and ultimately tried to manipulate whom Neve should socialize with.

      She had even tried to dissuade Neve from pursuing such a common profession as teaching. “Why don’t you accept a position in your father’s company?” She owned the company now and had pressed Neve constantly to get on board. “You could have it made, sweetheart, instead of trying to educate rug rats. And in kindergarten, how much teaching will you actually be doing? They’re still babies. You’ll be spending most of the time on your knees, cleaning up after their accidents, wiping snotty noses, dealing with tantrums. And you’ll be making peanuts compared to what you’d be earning working in your dad’s computer business.”

      “Mom, I have no interest in the world of computers. I want to make a difference with kids. Help them to love learning.”

      “Well, at least get your masters and doctorate, and then you’ll be able to teach at the university level. That would give you some status.”

      “I’m not interested in status, Mom.” Like you...

      Neve had had to control herself from being rude, although sometimes she had come very close. By the time she had graduated with her teaching degree, she had been more than ready to leave home. Lois had tried to bribe her with a luxury car and promises of travel if she stayed put.

      Neve was having none of it.

      Her mother had been hinting about a new manager in one of the departments that she thought might be a good match for Neve. The last thing Neve wanted was a man her mother approved of. A man who had similar qualities as her mother. Rich and snooty. Controlling and manipulative.

      No, Neve had started her search and had found herself a bachelor apartment in a section of a house owned by Italian immigrants, and her teacher’s salary had covered her rent and expenses. The “allowance” her mother insisted on sending her, Neve had put in her savings and travel accounts. Lois had insisted that she wanted Neve to have her inheritance—or at least some of it—before she passed away. “That way I can see you enjoying