objectively considering each possibility made Marco suspect the former was true.
âI want someone to work on it who is capable ofâ¦â He paused and thought, Capable of reminding me how I once felt. His eyes slid from her face and he said abruptly, âI am a Sicilian.â
As if that said it all. âIâm not.â
Marcoâs glance drifted to her mouth and he felt things shift inside him. âYou spoke very eloquently, with passion.â
âThat wasnât passion, that was desperation.â
A flicker of irritation crossed his lean face but some of the tension left his shoulders. âThis constant self-deprecation can get wearing.â However, looking at her mouth did not.
Sophie opened her mouth to retort and closed it again, not because sheâd just remembered he was the client and the client was always right, but because he was right.
It had started as a protective mechanismâget in there before someone else did. Endless casual comments, not normally intended to wound, about her figure, her hair, her lack of small talkâ¦The list was endless and they did hurt, so it was now almost a reflex to pull herself down before anyone else got the chance.
It was ironic that the person to open her eyes was a total strangerâand this total stranger.
Aiming somewhere midway between pushy and motivated she gave him a direct look. âYouâre serious.â
He gave the appearance of considering the question. âThose are my conditions.â
âEven if I could, Amber would never agree. Youâve probably already noticed Iâm not a front-of-shop person.â Her sweeping gesture took in her creased outfit. âI source materials and deal with orders and make sure that⦠In short, I make lists,â Sophie explained, frowning at the somewhat lame job description she had produced. âIâm very good at lists.â
âYou mean you do the work and let others take the credit.â His expression did not suggest he found such a self-sacrificing mentality admirable, and his scorn stung.
Easy for him, she thought. He walked into a room and everything about him screamed dominant male; he didnât have a clue what it felt like to be invisible among her dazzling siblings. As much as she loved them, they were overwhelming.
She felt her resentment rise as she studied his chiselled patrician features. Marco Speranza didnât have the faintest idea what it felt like to blend into the background, and anyway it wasnât even trueâshe wasnât a doormat!
Her indignation was mixed with uneaseâwas that really the impression she gave?
âJust because I donât need to be the centre of attention doesnât make me a total doormat.â
Encountering the hostile glitter in her blue eyes Marco smiled.
âWhatâs so funny?â she asked between clenched teeth as she endured his searching stare.
âNot a doormatâ¦afraid.â He taunted. He watched her chin go up and smiled. Getting the best out of people in his experience was about providing the correct motivation and knowing which buttons to push.
Sophie avoided arguments and confrontationsâshe disliked raised voicesâbut she suddenly realised that there were occasions when a person had to stand up and be countedâ¦or explode!
Her hands balled into fists at her sides.
Dear God, the man was a total stranger and he was acting as if he knew her. First her father, and then this man, telling her what was wrong with herâwell, she was sick of it! She was so mad she could hardly see straight as she fixed him with a glittering blue scowl.
âIâm not afraid!â she yelled. âNot all of us need to have people telling us how marvellous we are every two seconds. I donât need my ego stroked to make me feel good about myself, unlike some people.â
A look of utter amazement crossed Marcoâs face; he had obviously pressed more
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