LITMIR.BIZ

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was such a good friend. Orla gave him a grateful smile. ‘I’m fine.’

      Against her will, her eyes darted to Torre and his sardonic expression infuriated her. But Jules seemed oblivious to the simmering tension. He glanced across the table at Torre. ‘You and Orla must have a lot to catch up on after eight years.’

      ‘I was interested to know what job Orla does but she has informed me that she doesn’t work,’ Torre said drily.

      ‘I hope she explained that what happened with her previous employer was not her fault.’ Jules quickly sprang to her defence. He turned to Giuseppe. ‘Orla is a very good secretary and she is ideally suitable for the position of PA to the audit manager of ARC UK, but her application was rejected by the managing director, Richard Fraser. I am certain that Orla would be an asset to the company if you would give her a chance to prove her worth.’

      Orla felt uncomfortable when Giuseppe gave her a shrewd look. ‘It is not a chairman’s role to interfere with decisions made by senior executives, except in rare circumstances,’ he murmured. ‘I like Richard Fraser and respect his judgement. That said, I would like to help you, Orla. You are my stepdaughter and I am delighted that you wish to work for the company. But I am no longer in charge of ARC. I intend to make a formal announcement and give a press statement at the company’s centenary party that I am stepping down from my role as joint Chairman and CEO in favour of my son. I began the legal process of handing the company over to Torre a few weeks ago while I was in hospital, suffering from pneumonia. My illness forced me to accept that I am getting older, and it is time for a younger man with more energy and new ideas to lead ARC into the future.’

      Around the table everyone turned their heads to look at Giuseppe when he rose to his feet and picked up his wine glass. ‘I would like to propose a toast to Torre. I am certain that under his leadership ARC will continue to flourish and expand.’

      There was a scrape of chairs on the stone terrace as everyone stood up and raised their glasses. Orla murmured her congratulations, but her heart had plummeted when Giuseppe had made his announcement. She had let herself believe that she would be able to persuade her stepfather to give her a job at ARC UK. But Giuseppe, who had only ever been kind to her, had handed the company over to his son and heir—and Torre was as friendly towards her as a rattlesnake.

      When everyone had resumed their seats, Jules leaned across the table and spoke to Torre. ‘I’d appreciate it if you would intervene on Orla’s behalf and tell Richard Fraser to offer her the job she applied for. If you read her CV you will see that she has the right qualifications.’

      ‘I cannot promise anything. Recruitment is dealt with by HR,’ Torre said smoothly. ‘But I suppose I can spare five minutes to look at Orla’s CV.’

      She wanted to tell him not to bother. It would save them both time because she was damned sure that Torre would not give her a job. She didn’t even want to be a PA. She did not enjoy office work but it was the only thing she was qualified to do. Even if she found the confidence to go back to university for the final year of her degree in civil engineering, she could not afford the fees or the lack of income while she studied. She had to have a job so that she could pay her mother’s medical expenses, and she couldn’t risk throwing away the tiny chance that Torre might employ her.

      ‘I assume you have your CV with you?’ he said.

      ‘Yes.’ She fished in her handbag and took out the document. Torre reached across the table to take it from her and their hands brushed. It had only been a fleeting touch of his skin against hers, but Orla caught her breath.

      His mouth curled in a cynical smile that made her feel suddenly furious. What right did he have to look at her as if she had crawled out from beneath a rock? Her only crime had been to sleep with him. She had naively mistaken lust for something deeper, but love was an illusion, she thought bleakly. Eight years ago Torre had only wanted her body, but she had been a foolish eighteen-year-old and for one magical night she had believed in love at first sight. A few years later she had thought she loved David but he had treated her badly.

      Once again her eyes were drawn to Torre and she found him watching her with an indefinable expression in his steel-grey gaze that sent confused signals down to the molten core of her, right there between her legs, so that she pressed her trembling thighs together. He knew, damn him, she thought as shame swept in a hot tide across her cheeks. He knew that she was fighting her awareness of him. Something in his smouldering gaze made her think that he was remembering how he had almost kissed her when he had found her alone on the driveway.

      ‘Meet me in the library in twenty minutes to discuss your CV,’ he said abruptly as he rose to his feet. ‘If you can convince me that you have skills that would be useful to the company I will consider passing your folder over to HR.’

      It wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement but at least he hadn’t dismissed her outright. ‘Thank you.’ She tensed when Jules placed his hand over hers where it was lying on the tablecloth.

      ‘I promised you that everything would be all right, didn’t I, chérie?’

      Orla was conscious that Torre’s eyes had narrowed and she flushed guiltily even though she had done nothing to feel guilty about. She wanted to snatch her hand back, certain that she hadn’t imagined a possessive note in Jules’s voice which left her feeling confused. It had been a mistake to come to Villa Romano, she thought as she watched Torre stride away. She had a sense of foreboding, a feeling that she was set on a dangerous path and there was no going back.

       CHAPTER THREE

      TORRE WAS AWARE of the moment Orla entered the library even though his back was facing the door and she made no sound. His skin tightened as he discerned the subtle scent of her perfume; a light, floral fragrance with notes of jasmine and something elusive that reminded him of a sultry, summer’s night a long time ago.

      Once, when his father had still been married to Kimberly, he’d arrived at Villa Romano from a business trip and learned that he had missed Orla by an hour. She had been in Amalfi to visit her mother but had left to catch a flight back to England. Torre had assured himself that he had no desire to meet Orla again. But when he had walked into the library—where, according to his father, Orla had preferred to spend most of her time, instead of lying on a sunbed by the pool and flicking through gossip magazines, which invariably was how her mother had occupied herself—he had inhaled the faint, lingering scent of her perfume and his body had clenched hard.

      Now, years after that incident, he was once again standing in the library and his senses were tantalised by Orla’s perfume. Thank God he hadn’t kissed her earlier, Torre thought grimly. He could not rationalise the crazy impulse he’d felt to bundle her into his car and whisk her away to his house in Ravello.

      He had admitted to himself that he had been mildly curious to see her again after so many years. But when he had found her standing next to his car he’d been unprepared for the fierce hunger that had clawed like a wild beast inside him as she’d turned around, a slender figure in a muted green dress made of a silky material that had caressed her small, high breasts and the soft curves of her hips. Her wide-brimmed hat had shaded her face, and her eyes had been hidden behind her sunglasses. The overall effect had been one of understated elegance, and in the sultry heat of an Italian summer’s day she had looked as deliciously cool and refined as gin and tonic with ice, and as fragrant as an English rose.

      Torre’s breath had been knocked from his body by the force of his heart slamming against his ribs. In that instant he had forgotten who she was, or rather what she was. But in reality he knew that Orla had had her own agenda when she’d slept with him years ago and he was certain that she had traded her virginity in the expectation that he had been as gullible as his father, who had married her parasite of a mother.

      It was fortunate that Jules had walked down the drive. His timely appearance had saved Torre from repeating the mistake he’d made in the past, when passion had overruled his good sense. He frowned as he thought of his stepbrother. He liked

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