Her Italian Boss’s Agenda

She’d told herself that she must run from him, but running was useless. He could give her the kind of feelings she’d sworn never to know again, and to rejoice in them. That knowledge would be waiting around every corner.

And he knew. Of course he did. He’d played along with the joke, waiting for her to get over her fantasies and reach out to the real man. It had happened, and all could be well, except that it had happened in the wrong way, at the wrong time, when he wasn’t even here.

Perhaps she’d needed him to go, so that the ache of missing him told her what she wanted to know. But why, oh why, didn’t he come back to her now?

Meanwhile she tried to occupy herself with being a tourist, but wherever she went she was thinking of him, planning how to tell him that she’d changed. How they would laugh together at the way she’d been overcome by her feelings! And then-

Every day she lunched at the trattoria where they’d eaten during his few brief hours here, at the same table if possible. Then she would search for something to fill the afternoon.

Despite all the historical sights, what attracted her most was the great building that was Leonate Europa. She longed to visit it, and even went so far as to turn into its underground car park. There she switched off the engine and sat behind the wheel, torn by temptation.

Surely it would do no harm to go in and introduce herself? After all, she’d signed a contract to work here. She could meet Enrico Leonate. She might even meet Primo Rinucci.

Then she smiled as she realised that she didn’t care whether she met him or not. Only Jack counted now. Soon he would call to say he was returning. She would go to meet him at the airport and their time would come.

She started up the engine and began to edge her way out of the car park into the stream of traffic. It was late afternoon, the worst time of day to be driving. The traffic was at its most crowded and she was fast becoming confused by the car and everything around her. She remembered Jack attributing his accident to the fact that the English drove on the ‘wrong’ side of the road. Now she knew how he felt.

There was a blast on the horn from the driver behind her. Startled, she turned the car swiftly to the side, realising too late that she’d chosen the wrong one.

‘Damn!’ she muttered, trying to brake, turn and see where she was going, all at once. ‘Oh, no!’

A shadow had appeared on her windscreen, a shadow that vanished with alarming suddenness.

‘Oh, no!’ she cried again, flinging herself out of the car. ‘What have I done?’

‘Covered me with bruises,’ said a man’s voice from the ground. Mercifully he sounded robust, even amused.

‘I didn’t actually hit you, did I?’

‘No, I jumped out of the way when you swerved, and missed my footing.’ He climbed to his feet, moving gingerly. ‘Those kerbs are very sharp when you fall on them,’ he complained, rubbing his elbow.

A bellow of sound from behind reminded her that other drivers were waiting to move.

‘I’ve got to go,’ she said, ‘but I can’t just leave you here. Can you get into my car?’

‘Why don’t I drive it for you?’

‘That might be better,’ she said with relief. ‘The roads in Naples are-I don’t know-’

When they were in the car and he was guiding them through the traffic he said, ‘It’s not just Naples. The roads in the rest of Italy are pretty hair-raising too. You’re not Italian, are you?’

‘You guessed! Neither are you by the sound of it. English?’

‘Let’s say I started out that way. Nowadays I’m not sure what I am. What’s your name?’

‘Olympia Lincoln.’

‘Luke Cayman.’

‘Cayman?’ She looked at him quickly. ‘Are you any relation to Jack Cayman?’

Before he could answer, a sleek sports car swept right in front of them, forcing Luke to brake sharply and utter a stream of Neapolitan curses. By the time things had sorted themselves out with lots of honking and bawling, Luke had had time to catch his breath and partly understand the situation.

Now, if ever, was the moment to watch every word. Brother Stuffed-Shirt Primo had certainly been up to something. But what? That was the million dollar question that he was going to enjoy exploring.

‘Sorry,’ he said at last. ‘What was the name?’

‘Jack Cayman. I met him in England. He works for Leonate. Surely you must be related? Two Englishmen with the same name, in Naples.’

As his thoughts settled he realised that he might have overreacted. Primo sometimes used his father’s name for wheeling and dealing in England, thinking it would make him less conspicuous. It might mean nothing.

‘It sounds like my brother,’ he mused.

‘Your brother?’

‘That’s right. We both come from England originally.’

‘Are you part of the firm too?’

‘Leonate? Not part of, but I’m in the same line of electronics and I’ve just sold them some goods, so I’d just dropped in to sign the papers. Jack and I don’t see much of each other because he travels a lot. Look, I know a little trattoria just down here and I need some sustenance after the fright you gave me.’

She suppressed a childish desire to say, Oh, yeah? The mere idea of this man taking fright was incongruous. He was like a rock. A pleasant, attractive rock, but a rock just the same. It was there in the shape of his head and his jaw line.

When at last they were seated, eating pizza and drinking coffee, he said, ‘I never take my car when I visit Leonate. The roads near it are so bad that it’s quicker on foot. But how did you come to be driving out of that building?’

‘I work there-well, sort of. I come from Curtis in England.’

‘So you’ve been taken over?’

‘I suppose I have. I’m here to learn the business and the language, and anything else I can.’

‘Was that Jack’s idea?’

‘Mine mainly. I sort of forced his hand.’

‘You-forced Pr-forced his hand?’ Luke asked carefully. ‘Not an easy man to force.’

She nodded. ‘I wanted to come to Naples. A way presented itself and in the end he saw things my way.’

To Olympia’s amazement Luke threw his head back and roared with laughter.

‘You don’t know how it sounds to hear you say that,’ he said at last. ‘That’s how he talks-do it my way. And people always do, because he gives them no choice. I guess you’ve heard him.’

‘No, I’ve never heard him say that,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t sound like him at all.’

‘Doesn’t sound-? We can’t be talking about the same man. Is something the matter?’

He’d noticed her looking over his shoulder and turned, half expecting to find Primo. Instead, it was his mother that he saw standing just inside the door, trying to attract his attention.

‘Mamma!’ He rose to embrace her and she hugged him back enthusiastically.

‘I’ve been trying to call you, but you turned your phone off,’ she reproved him. ‘Now introduce me to your friend.’

‘Mamma, this is Miss Olympia Lincoln. Miss Lincoln, this is my mother.’

Olympia regarded the newcomer with admiration. She looked between fifty and sixty, with an elegant figure and a face that was a tribute to the power of the massage parlour. She was fighting off encroaching age, and doing it very skilfully.

She shook hands with Olympia, giving her the welcoming but sharp-eyed look of a mother with too many unmarried sons. She evidently liked what she saw, for her smile broadened.

‘Mamma, sit down and have coffee with us,’ Luke said.

‘I have no time. I must hurry back to the villa to finish preparations for tonight.’ To Olympia she said, ‘We’re having a family party and you must come.’

‘Oh, no-thank you, but-if it’s a family party-’

‘Of course you must come. I won’t take no for an answer. Luke, you hear me now and bring this nice girl to us