Italian Boss, Housekeeper Bride (In Bed With the Boss 05) by Sharon Kendrick

Author:Sharon Kendrick [Kendrick, Sharon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, United States, Romance, Contemporary, Contemporary Fiction, Series, Harlequin Presents
Amazon: B000ZBJA6E
Publisher: Harlequin Presents
Published: 2007-12-01T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Natasha didn’t see the newspapers until after she took Sam to school next morning. She had overslept, and only just remembered to put on her engagement ring after throwing on yet more new clothes.

She woke her son and went downstairs to make coffee and toast, with the massive diamond winking and flashing on her finger like a star. Would anyone at the school notice? she wondered, but doubted it. Early on at the school she had been assessed by the super-rich mums and accorded her own particular status—which was why she mainly mixed with the au pairs.

She did her best not to react when Raffaele walked into the kitchen, waving his one free hand around in the air as he spoke in animated and exasperated French into a mobile phone. But it wasn’t easy. She wondered if that little scene in the back of the car had given him the same concern which had left her staring at the bedroom ceiling for most of the night.

‘He’s talking to a bank in Paris,’ translated Sam as he carefully poured honey over his porridge. ‘An’ he’s very cross.’

Natasha thought that you wouldn’t need Sam’s superiority with languages to be able to work that out! Though, to be honest, Raffaele might as well have been singing in Swahili for all the notice she would have taken of what he was saying. She was too busy trying not to ogle him.

He was wearing a city suit, but even the formal design of the outfit was unable to detract from his raw sexuality and masculinity. His black hair was faintly ruffled and he looked the picture of glowing vitality.

Natasha held up the cafetière, the way she always did, and Raffaele nodded his head vigorously—just the way he always did. Or did she imagine a faint quirk of his lips and that slight narrowing of his eyes? Even if it was simply her imagination her memory came thudding in to add to her discomfiture. Natasha was very aware that her hand was shaking, and she slopped some coffee into the saucer.

Raffaele raised his brows fractionally, his eyes dancing dark mischief as he clicked off his phone and shook his head when she offered him toast.

‘No, grazie,’ he murmured. ‘Strangely enough, I have little appetite for food this morning. Why, Natasha—you’ve spilt the coffee! You seem a little on edge—is something troubling you?’

Yes, she wanted to shout. You are! But, of course, she couldn’t do that because Sam was sitting in the room—and there would be no explanation in the world you could give to a five-year-old to explain why you had started shouting at your boss and behaving so uncharacteristically.

And then—to Natasha’s fury—the two of them began to chat to each other in Italian—making her feel completely redundant. She really was going to have to work a bit harder at the language—she hadn’t really progressed much beyond the days of the week and being able to ask for directions to the railway station.

‘Have you nearly finished, Sam?’ she asked pointedly as the minutes ticked by.

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