A Deal For Her Innocence. Cathy Williams

select little team he had personally hand-picked, half of whom were having the time of their lives working in situ on the island, was proving to be just the tonic he needed.

      And the woman sitting opposite him was having a similar effect. Very energizing.

      ‘Of course...’ Ellie broke a silence that had reached screaming point. ‘I do realise that your hotel will be catering for a young, singles market...’

      ‘Not necessarily young. In fact, I would say that young people will be in the minority. Most of them wouldn’t be able to afford the prices I’m asking. But you’ve got the single part right. Single people looking for love on a holiday of a lifetime. Exquisite location, exquisite scenery—it’s the ultimate place for a romantic connection to develop.

      ‘Except all I’m seeing here is the exquisite scenery. Anyone looking at what you’ve put together would think that you’re advertising somewhere for stars-in-their-eyes honeymooners. So, repeat, tell me what else you’ve got, because your competitors have all managed to hit the nail on the head with their offerings.’ They hadn’t, he thought, but you never showed your hand and lost the advantage. It wouldn’t hurt for her to think that the competition was galloping towards the finishing line.

      ‘I thought that it might be more tempting if guests weren’t made to feel that they were there to...to...make romantic connections.’

      Niccolo’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You mean, delude them into thinking that they’re really there just for the blue skies and the turquoise sea—the peace and tranquillity? Ms Wilson, my guests will be actively seeking partners, and focusing on the scenery isn’t going to tempt them, it’s going to put them off.’

      ‘If you don’t like what I’ve done, Mr Rossi, then perhaps we shouldn’t waste one another’s time any longer.’ But to return empty-handed was going to hurt their business. Of course, it couldn’t be helped, but the agency, her career...those were the things that grounded her, that enabled her to put down roots. It represented all those steps on the ladder that would mean that she would never have to endure the insecurities she’d had to endure as a child. Her parents’ wanderings had been self-imposed but Ellie knew well enough that, even if you took that out of the equation, the only way anyone could be guaranteed that their house remained their castle was to have the wherewithal to pay the mortgage.

      ‘You’re not much of a trier, are you, Ms Wilson?’ Niccolo remarked dryly. ‘Giving up already? Aren’t you going to try to get me to see your point of view? I’m shocked that you can survive longer than two minutes in the cut-throat world of advertising where sex sells—and, the more explicit the sex, the higher the turnover of sales.’ Niccolo watched the stubborn tilt of her chin with interest. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve never gone down the tawdry route of selling something stunningly dull and virtually unsaleable with the help of a few sexy images...?’

      ‘I haven’t, as it happens,’ Ellie returned stiffly. She looked at his devastatingly handsome face and thought that there was little chance he would ever be able to get where she was coming from, because when you oozed sex appeal like he did it was unlikely you could ever appreciate that it wasn’t just about the physical. ‘The accounts I have worked on have had great success on an approach based on nostalgia, whimsy and a reminder that the good things in life don’t necessarily have anything to do with sex.’

      ‘Ah. I’m getting the picture. You’re the “bread, cheese and milk” person. You leave the cars, perfume and alcohol to your more racy co-workers.’ He gazed at her thoughtfully and then stood up, waiting while she scrambled hastily to her feet.

      ‘You’ve already had more of my time than I’d banked on,’ he told her bluntly. ‘And you should have already done yourself out of a job by your charming but misdirected pitch. But here’s what I’m thinking, Ms Eleanor Wilson. Maybe it would be unwise to fall into the trap of the obvious appeal. Needless to say, your campaign is way too hazy for my venture, but on the other hand it’s not sleazy. There isn’t a single saucy image, and you’ve managed to show me an entire pitch in which no mention is made of the fact that everyone on the complex will be looking for a connection. Somewhere between the “sex sells” and the romantic sunsets is what I’m looking for. So, why don’t you follow me to my office and you can have the full brunt of my attention?’

      He was already walking towards the door and Ellie tripped behind him, stuffing her files into the briefcase and balancing the tablet and her coat in her free hand.

      Unsurprisingly, she thought sourly, the man had not offered to carry anything for her. She was grateful that she was being given a second chance to prove herself but, if he wanted to bring her round to promoting the concept of a resort where people were invited to pay a fortune so that they could hook up with similarly rich people for meaningless sex, then he was barking up the wrong tree.

      Meaningless sex wasn’t her thing. She could still remember the swinging parties her parents had had, the concept of free love which they had never hidden from her. Once, when she’d been eight or nine, she had burst into the kitchen for a glass of water only to find her mother wrapped round a fellow hippy houseguest. After that, she had had the talk about the birds and the bees—except, unlike most ‘birds and bees’ talks delivered by well-intentioned, responsible parents, hers had been liberally promoting the joys of experimental sex and the positives of being adventurous.

      There was a lift that went directly from the gym, straight up to Niccolo’s suite of offices on the top floor of the building. She could have been a piece of office furniture for all the attention he paid to her on the way. He worked on his phone, indolently leaning against the brushed metal panel, one hundred percent focused on whatever he was doing.

      Even when the lift doors purred open, he barely raised his eyes from whatever was garnering his attention. His hair had more or less dried and he had raked his fingers through it, giving it an approximation of neatness. Gone was the raw, primal male heaving his impossible load of weights and in its place was the urbane and sophisticated billionaire who could have whatever he wanted at the click of his imperious fingers, although...

      Her gaze skittered surreptitiously to him and she shivered because, suit or no suit, there was still something darkly, dangerously and thrillingly intimidating about him. She stiffened at the fanciful turn of her thoughts. She wasn’t a Victorian maiden and he wasn’t a swash-buckling male. She was an efficient and ambitious partner in an up-and-coming advertising agency and he was a potential client who had the capacity to put their business on the map. She’d worked hard for this opportunity and she wasn’t going to squander it.

      Ellie barely noticed the plush surroundings as they disembarked on the top floor. There was a hush in the huge open space, where smoked-glass partitions and cleverly positioned plants formed barriers between some of the walnut-and-chrome desks. It was the hush of people working hard to make the billions that kept Niccolo’s sprawling company at the top of the pecking order.

      His offices were at the end of a thickly carpeted corridor and he only paused when he entered an outer room where a middle-aged woman was busily doing something on her computer.

      ‘No interruptions for the next hour,’ Niccolo said, sweeping past to push open his office door, then standing aside for Ellie to brush past him. ‘I’ll be busy.’ He turned to his secretary and Ellie could detect the wicked grin in his voice. ‘Ms Wilson, who’s going to try and convince me that sex doesn’t sell.’

      Ellie knew when she was being goaded and, much as she didn’t like it, discretion was the better part of valour. And who knew? Maybe she would be able to make him see that sex wasn’t the be all and end all when it came to selling an image of fun.

      ‘So.’ Niccolo waved to one of chairs clustered around a low wooden table. His office wasn’t so much one room as several rooms laid out in the manner of a very expensive, very open-plan studio apartment. There was a sitting area, a dining area and a bar area. All that was missing was a bedroom, although the deep three-seater sofa against the grey wall...

      Ellie sat. The chairs were low and deep. They were designed to encourage relaxation but, since the last thing she felt was relaxed, she