LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

at Vivienne as if she'd taken leave of her senses. “Do you actually believe I'd try to compromise or take advantage of a female employee?”

      “Did I say that?” she shot back defensively.

      “You didn't have to, Vivienne. You implied—”

      “Don't try and put words in my mouth, Diego. I don't have a problem saying what's on my mind, so let's get that straight right here, right now.”

      Diego went completely still. Underneath the cool exterior of the woman with the haunting tawny-brown eyes was a quick temper and an even sharper tongue. “This will be the first and last time I'll permit you to talk to me in that tone.” Though spoken quietly, his words were as sharp and cutting as a razor.

      “What tone do you want me to take with you, boss man?” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

      Diego couldn't believe Vivienne. It was apparent she either didn't need or want the position. But, he wasn't about to make it easy for her. “Are you trying to get fired?”

      “No,” she countered, after a pregnant pause.

      He leaned closer. “Then, what's with the attitude?”

      “I didn't know I had one.”

      “Well, you do,” Diego said.

      Pressing her palms together, Vivienne bowed her head as if he were royalty. “Por favor perdone mi impertinencia, Señor Cole-Thomas.”

      Diego didn't know whether to fire Vivienne Neal on the spot. His broad shoulders shook as he bit back laughter. If Vivienne was genuinely sorry for mouthing off at him, then he was the elusive Loch Ness Monster.

      “Humility doesn't quite suit you, Ms. Neal.”

      Vivienne wrinkled her nose, winking at the man who unsettled her, unsettled her more than she wanted to be. And, that was further exacerbated because she would've preferred her bedroom on the first floor rather than the second.

      “I'm glad you noticed.”

      Diego wanted to tell Vivienne that that wasn't the only thing he'd noticed about her. She claimed a refreshing natural beauty that hadn't come from a plastic surgeon's scalpel or a professional makeup artist. He estimated her to be around five-five or five-six, but it was her slimness that made her appear taller. If his interest in her was less of a professional nature, then he would've preferred her carrying at least ten to fifteen more pounds. Most of the women he dated usually wore a double-digit dress size, while many of the men in his family preferred tall, very slim women.

      He sobered. “Now, are you ready to see what's upstairs?”

      “You're not going to fire me?” Vivienne asked, answering his question with one of her own.

      The seconds ticked off as they stared at each other. It was Diego who broke the silence. “No!” He turned and made his way up the staircase. “And if it'll make you feel safer at night I'll lock my bedroom door,” he said over his shoulder. “Or better yet, lock yours.”

      She grunted as she followed him up the curving carpeted stairs. She didn't want to get fired but wanted to see how far she could push Diego, because Vivienne Kay Neal had no intention of becoming a doormat for the powerful CEO with the intimidating reputation.

      “That won't be necessary,” she said to his back, “because I don't do bosses.”

      Diego lifted his eyebrows as he glanced over his shoulder. “At least we're in agreement about two things. I don't do employees.”

      “What's the other thing?”

      “Your qualifications. You're exactly what I've been looking for.” He waited at the top of the stairs for Vivienne, who was oblivious to the significance of his statement.

      They walked down a hallway wide enough for them to walk two abreast. Recessed lights reflected off the pale-veined marble floor that was only a shade lighter than the walls, which were covered with a fabric that resembled finely woven linen.

      Diego stopped at the end of the hall where oceanfront windows and doors separated massive carved mahogany double doors that led to the bedroom suites. Resting his hands on the heavy brass doorknobs, he pulled them open to reveal a suite with a living room, dining area, sitting room and a bedroom with a king-size bed upholstered in cream-colored suede.

      Vivienne walked into her suite as if in a trance. Diego had called it a bedroom suite, but it was more like an apartment. Her eight boxes, labeled with their contents, were lost in the enormous walk-in closet with enough shelves for Imelda Marcos's shoe collection and all of Cher and Elton John's flamboyant concert costumes.

      “You like shoes,” Diego said softly behind her back.

      She nodded. Half the boxes were labeled “Shoes,” while the others contained slacks, blouses, dresses, books and another with miscellaneous items. “Whenever I see a pair I like, I just have to have them.”

      Crossing his arms over his chest, Diego angled his head. He wanted to tell Vivienne that she was going to have to increase her wardrobe because his social agenda was as active as his business calendar. “Do you like shopping?”

      Spinning around on the toes of her ballet-type shoes, Vivienne gave him a look mirroring puzzlement. “Shopping for what?”

      “Clothes.”

      “I've been known to melt the numbers on several of my credit cards with a marathon shopping spree. Why?”

      A mysterious smile softened Diego's firm mouth. He'd found himself smiling more with Vivienne than he had in a very long time. The task of trying to balance his business dealings with his personal life had taken a toll on his sense of humor, something he'd been accused of lacking entirely.

      “I'll tell you after I lay out my itinerary for the next few weeks,” he said cryptically.

      “Which itinerary, Diego?”

      “I only have one itinerary.”

      With wide eyes, she said, “You mix business with personal?”

      He inclined his head. “Most of the time they overlap.”

      It was Vivienne's turn to cross her arms under her breasts, bringing Diego's gaze to linger there. She lowered her arms and sat on a leather-padded bench. “Do you expect me to accompany you to your meetings?”

      He lifted his shoulders in a gesture that reminded her of her favorite Italian actor Giancarlo Giannini. Diego was tall and powerfully built, yet claimed a grace that was totally incongruent with a man his size. To say he was elegant was an understatement. He had the most beautiful hands and feet of any man she'd seen. His hands were slender with long, delicate fingers. There were no ragged cuticles or uneven nails, which attested to his being well-groomed.

      “I'm going to require you being present at a few, only because I'd like to get another perspective on the proceedings. I'm starting a new venture and I'm going to need your input and feedback. And remember, everything we discuss is bound by the confidentiality statement you signed.”

      Vivienne curbed the urge to roll her eyes at him. “I understand,” she said instead. Although she wanted to stay and examine the space where she would sleep, she also wanted to know her responsibilities.

      Diego extended his hand, smiling when she placed her hand on his as he eased her gently to her feet. “You can check out the house later,” he said, reading her mind, “but what I want to discuss with you is a priority.”

      Tilting her chin, she stared up at him staring back at her. There was an emotion lurking behind the raven-black eyes that caused a shiver to race along her spine. “What do you need me to do?”

      “I don't need you to do anything except to accompany me to a wedding Saturday evening.”

      A moment of apprehension rushed through Vivienne as she mentally replayed his statement. “You want me to be your date?” The last word was a whisper.

      Nothing

Скачать книгу