Italian Escape with the CEO Page 2

  A few years later Jess had fallen ill and her last words to him had been of love, an admonishment not to grieve for too long and not to feel guilt over their marriage. Perhaps her forgiveness should have absolved him but in some ways it simply weighted the load more. That final conversation had torn his heart, shredded his insides with sadness and frustration. He would have done anything to give Jess more time, a chance to follow her dreams instead of waiting for him to return her love.

  But he wouldn’t show anyone that pain and he knew damn well it hadn’t caused him to lose his edge. ‘Thanks for the info,’ he said. ‘I’ll deal with it.’

  ‘I know you will.’ Rita glanced at her watch. ‘Anyways, the other reason I came up here was to tell you that you have a visitor.’

  ‘A potential client?’

  ‘I assume so.’ Rita frowned. ‘She looks familiar but she’s wearing sunglasses and a scarf. Didn’t want to give me her full name either.’ None of this was unusual—sometimes clients were loath to give their identity or be recognised. ‘She just said her name is Ava.’

  Ava. It took all of Liam’s iron control not to react, even as he told himself he was being foolish. Ava wasn’t that uncommon a name—yet to him it had huge significance. The name bandied about during his childhood: Ava Casseveti—daughter of the man who had betrayed his father, driven Terry Rourke to drink and bitterness.

  Liam gave his head a small shake—there were plenty of Avas in the world. And why on earth would Ava Casseveti show her face here? Any Casseveti was definitively persona non grata in his world. ‘Bring her in.’

  Rita nodded and exited the room. Liam rose, paced, worked to clear his mind from thoughts of the past.

  A minute later there was a brief knock, the door swung open and Rita showed a woman in. Designer sunglasses hid her eyes and a scarf covered her hair; her clothes were an explicit demonstration of her status. Clearly expensive, without being flamboyant, they combined power with chic. White blouse, long-sleeved and V-necked, tucked into a dark checked skirt that emphasised her slender waist and long legs. Cool, sleek, professional.

  Liam rose and headed round the desk as Rita made a discreet exit. ‘Liam Rourke,’ he said.

  Before he could hold out his hand the woman deftly removed her sunglasses, dropped them into her shoulder bag, then swiftly tugged off the scarf to reveal long glossy corn-blonde hair that fell in perfect waves to frame a heart-shaped face. But what arrested him most were her eyes. They were an extraordinary colour, a luminous amber flecked with copper. To his chagrin his jaw dropped of its own volition. There was no need for her to identify herself. This was definitely Ava Casseveti and she was stunning. Little wonder that a few years back she’d taken the modelling world by storm. He blinked and forced his brain cells to regroup.

  ‘Ava Casseveti,’ she said and held her hand out—long-fingered and elegant, silver rings on the first finger of her right hand and the middle of her left, perfect nails a pale brown. Liam shook her hand, registered the smooth silk of her skin and a sudden little zing shot through him at her touch. Whoa. His gaze met hers and for a fleeting second he saw a flicker of shock in the amber depths and he knew she’d felt it too.

  Time to focus, however surreal this felt. But it was hard because in some strange way Ava had always been a part of his life, both a nemesis and a motivator. Hadn’t he wanted to prove to his father, to himself, that he would succeed despite what James Casseveti had done? Driven to do better than James Casseveti’s daughter.

  All of which explained that jolt and presumably also explained why their hands were still intertwined. As if she too realised that fact she moved backwards and disengaged her clasp, inhaled deeply and met his gaze. ‘Thank you for seeing me at such short notice. Before I explain why I am here, can I ask if your father ever mentioned my father?’

  The words tumbled from generous lips outlined in the reddest of reds and the sheer irony of the question nearly startled a bitter laugh from him. Instead he merely inclined his head. ‘Yes. He did.’ On a daily basis. The story of James Casseveti’s betrayal had been the equivalent of Liam’s bedtime story, the tale of how Terry Rourke’s best friend had used their business idea to leapfrog to fame and fortune. And that act of treachery had destroyed his father’s life, his marriage, his job...the success of Dolci had broken Terry Rourke. And broken his family with it.

  Pulling himself to the present, he gestured to his desk. ‘Why don’t you sit down? Then you can tell me why you are here.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  AVA MOVED TOWARDS the chair Liam had indicated, tried to use the time to regroup, refocus, settle the thrum of her nerves. Wished she could figure out what the hell was going on. Quit kidding yourself, Ava. She knew exactly what was going on. For some inexplicable, unfair reason her hormones had decided to awaken from dormancy and fix their attention on Liam Rourke.

  To be fair the man was gorgeous. Thick coppery brown hair, a face that held strength and determination in its clean planes and angles, firm lips and a body that combined lithe muscle, breadth and length and... And jeez what was she doing? An inventory? This was not what she was here for. She sank onto the state-of-the-art chair, prayed he hadn’t noticed her practically measure him up with her eyes and pulled her thoughts together into the carefully rehearsed words.

  ‘I want you to know that during his lifetime my father never mentioned your family to me. Not once. However he left me a letter to be opened after his death. In it he explained that he did your father a moral wrong. Apparently they discussed the idea for a company like Dolci together and therefore he felt it was morally incorrect of him to set up Dolci without any reference to your father.’ She paused and continued, kept her voice even. ‘I would like to stress that there is no legal obligation at play here. There was no partnership, no agreement and no legal need for my father to involve yours.’

  ‘So why are you here?’ A hard edge of anger lined his words and she couldn’t blame him. ‘Given legal obligations clearly trump moral responsibility.’

  ‘I didn’t say that. I’m here because my father did feel a moral responsibility, but I’d be a fool not to safeguard my company. I want to be clear I’d like to offer compensation without prejudice. I’d like to carry out my father’s wish to make amends.’

  ‘How noble of him.’ Liam made no attempt to hide the sarcasm. ‘Unfortunately he is too late. My father died ten years ago and the damage was done.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ And she was, she had hoped against hope that Terry Rourke had been unaffected by her father’s actions, but the anger, the bitter twist of Liam’s lips belied that hope. Showed her the utter inadequacy of her words.

  In an instant, though, his face donned a mask of cool neutrality. ‘An apology won’t help my dad now—you cannot compensate for what your father did.’

  ‘There must be something.’

  ‘Such as?’ The question was cold and tinged with contempt.

  Yet it was imperative she carried out her father’s wishes; she knew she couldn’t just slough this responsibility off. Knew she didn’t want to. ‘What about the rest of your family? Is there anything I can do for them?’

  ‘No.’ The syllable was instant and absolute and she saw a shadow cross his eyes ‘My mother has remarried and she is happy—I will not let you charge in and dredge up old memories to make yourself feel better.’

  ‘That is not why I am doing this.’ Now anger surfaced and she glared at him, saw the clench of his jaw. ‘I want to do something to atone for what my father did. That is what he wanted.’

  ‘Then why didn’t he do it?’

  It was a good question and one she didn’t want to answer. Truth be told her father had always been morally weak. He would have intended to make amends but he would have easily talked himself out of it, put it off, procrastinated. ‘That is irrelevant now. He asked me to act for him and that’s what I want to do.’

 
‘You can’t. Accept it. And accept that I don’t want your bounty—because nothing can atone for that betrayal. His perfidy broke my father. He felt cheated and bitter, a bitterness that pervaded and corroded his life. He began to drink heavily, he lost his job, his marriage fell apart as he watched your father climb the scale of success and fame. I understand that he could have made different choices, but the choices he made were put into play by your father.’

  Ava winced, felt her face scrunch, her body braced in an attempt to reject his words even as she recognised their truth and realised the impact this must have had on Liam. Then for a second she saw something flash across his face. A sudden shaft of sympathy that vanished before she could be sure it was there. ‘I... I... I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Then say nothing. This is not your fault—I understand that.’ He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and exhaled. ‘But there is nothing you can do to “right the wrong”. The man your father wronged is gone. This is too little too late. The best thing you can do now is leave.’

  Ava nodded, realised that her very presence must be dredging up memories for him. She rose and he followed suit, walked round the desk to usher her towards the door. Halfway there she stopped. ‘Hang on.’ Ava turned, reached into her bag and pulled out a card. ‘Here. This...’ The words dried up, and they both seemed to freeze. Her feet felt stuck as his sudden unexpected proximity assailed her. The scent of his aftershave with its woodsy overtone tantalised her, and for one moment her gaze snagged and held on his lips, the firm etched outline of them. What was she doing? Gritting her teeth, Ava tucked a determined tendril of hair behind her ear and then continued, annoyed that the slightest of wobbles tremored the words. ‘This has my details on it. I know I can’t make up for what my father did but if I can ever do you a favour, please get in touch.’

  Not that that was likely to happen. ‘I mean it.’ She held the card out, saw his hesitation, wondered if he was as unsettled as she. Carefully he took the card, but despite his care his fingers brushed hers and there it was again, a frisson, and this time she was sure he felt it too, saw awareness jolt in the depths of his cobalt eyes.

  ‘Sure,’ he said, though she suspected he’d bin the card as soon as she left.

  Without meeting his gaze she slipped on her sunglasses and headed for the door.

  Two weeks later

  Liam scrolled down his inbox, each email sending his anger up a notch.

  Given the report in the financial press I have concerns...

  As a result of the uncertainties facing your firm...

  Hi, Liam. I just wanted to check in, mate. See if you’re OK. I’m sorry to hear you haven’t been well. Grief over the loss of a loved one is so hard and it’s fine if you need some time off.

  Anger slammed him. ‘Uncertainties’ and ‘time off’, his backside. Over the past two weeks AJ’s smear campaign had escalated, cast a tightening net of doubt over Rourke Securities by targeting its CEO. He’d done all the sensible things so far, looked at the legal route, decided not to react as that might give credence to the rumours. But enough was enough.

  He snagged his jacket from the back of his chair and left the office and an hour later he pushed through the glass revolving door that led to the plush lobby of AJ Security, headed towards the reception area and smiled his friendliest smile.

  ‘Good afternoon. I was wondering if you could help me.’ He pulled out his army credentials and flashed them at the receptionist. ‘I’m a fellow officer of AJ’s—we trained together at Sandhurst—could I run up and surprise him?’

  The receptionist looked doubtful. ‘I’m only a temp here. I’m not sure...’

  Another smile. ‘I promise he won’t mind. But just in case I’ll tell him you tried to stop me. Would that work?’

  ‘Um...’ Before the temp could say anything Liam headed purposefully for the lift, saw the temp press a button on the phone and start to talk. He hopped out at the first floor and glanced round the open-plan office, then strode purposefully through the line of desks until he spotted a door with AJ’s name plate, guarded by a PA. The blond man rose to his feet. ‘Excuse me, sir. I need you to stop right there.’

  ‘Not happening.’ Liam knew he needed to move fast. ‘I just want a quick word with AJ.’

  ‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible.’

  ‘We’ll see.’

  Before the man could do anything Liam vaulted over the desk and in seconds had the PA’s hands behind his back. ‘I’m sorry about this and I really don’t want to hurt you. I’ll be a few minutes, that’s all.’

  The man nodded and stood and watched as Liam released him and headed for the office door, pushed it open and entered. He turned and stood with his back against it, estimating he had a few minutes at best before security guards burst in.

  ‘Hey, AJ.’

  AJ’s eyes were wide and satisfaction slid through Liam as he saw fear flash in their depths. ‘What do you want, Rourke?’

  ‘Call off your guards and I’ll tell you. Or...’ and now Liam stepped forward ‘...let’s do this the old-fashioned way and see who wins. It didn’t take me that long last time to kick your butt.’ He eyed the other man with contempt. ‘And you were in better shape then. So make your choice.’

  AJ picked the phone up. ‘It’s all right, guys. I’ve got this.’

  ‘Good choice. I’m here to say back off.’

  ‘Back off what?’ The upper-class drawl grated on his nerves but Liam kept a smile on his face.

  ‘Back off my clients and my business.’

  Now AJ spread his arms in a gesture of innocence. ‘I’m not doing anything, Rourke. If I have a bit of chat with my potential clients about your very understandable grief over your wife’s tragic death, that’s my prerogative.’

  ‘Leave my wife out of this.’ Rage threatened and he tamped it down into a useable commodity. Took a step forward, fists clenched, saw panic cross AJ’s face as he pushed his chair backwards.

  ‘Sorry. Sorry.’ Now he pressed a button under his desk. ‘But the Beaumont contract will be mine. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.’

  ‘Watch me, Andrew, just watch me. You’re a coward who relies on Daddy’s money and position. Always were, always will be. Much as I’d love to wipe that smirk off your face, I’m not going to. This time let’s finish it in the business ring. The result will be the same.’

  Liam turned and exited, walked back to the lift, descended and left through the revolving door. Adrenalin surged through his body and he unclenched his fists. There was no way he would let AJ Mason win this and take Rourke Securities down.

  Whatever it took, Liam would win. As he climbed into his car his mind raced through options. Legal and IT routes were all very well but the most important part of his strategy was to show Ray Beaumont and everyone else out there that Liam Rourke was on the top of his game, in control and capable. He needed to combat, not only AJ’s accusations, but also the force of his connections and lifestyle, which would impress and bedazzle Ray Beaumont and his wife.

  He drummed his fingers on his steering wheel, and an idea niggled the corner of his brain, grew and expanded into a plan as he completed the drive back to Rourke HQ. A plan he recognised as a gamble that verged on the cusp of insane. But one thing he’d learnt in the army was that sometimes the risky way was the only way to go, however high the stakes.

  Once in his office he lifted the keyboard on his desk and pulled out Ava Casseveti’s card. Studied it for a long moment. Daughter of aristocracy, ex-model, businesswoman, celebrity... Beautiful, charming, intelligent, well connected... And she owed him. Could he ask a favour of an enemy? In these circumstances, yes, he could.

  Decision made, he punched in her number.

  One ring, two, and then the call was picked up. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Ava. It’s Liam Rourke.’

  A couple of beats
of silence and then, ‘Liam. Good to hear from you.’ Her tone clearly belied the truth of the sentiment.

  ‘You said to call if I thought of a favour you could do me. Well, I have.’

  There was a silence, then, ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘I’d rather pitch this in person. How about dinner tonight? I can pick you up from work if you like?’

  ‘Um...’ Liam realised he was holding his breath, told himself if Ava refused then he’d come up with an alternative strategy. ‘OK. But I’ll meet you there. Just tell me the location.’

  ‘I’ll text details and how about we meet at eight?’ He’d already picked the perfect place, the right backdrop to help explain his plan, a venue that also had the merit of getting him seen in the right circles.

  ‘I’ll be there.’

  * * *

  A few hours later Liam approached the restaurant, as a taxi pulled up to the kerb. He waited and watched as Ava alighted from the black cab. His breath hitched in his throat—she looked...stunning. Her blonde hair was up in an elegant sweep that highlighted her slanted cheekbones; she wore a simple fitted black dress made that little bit different by the subtle striped detail of the V neck.

  She paid the driver and headed towards him, her poise still reminiscent of the catwalk, graceful and lithe. As she reached him he nodded. ‘Thank you for coming.’

  ‘No problem. I told you to call if you needed a favour.’

  ‘Then let’s go in and I’ll explain.’

  He stepped back to allow her to go first, forced his gaze away from the slender column of her neck, the tantalising sweep of bare skin, focused instead on the air above her head. That at least was safe. Once inside he signed them in, and led the way into the restaurant situated on the ground floor of the exclusive military club.