Read Online Sophie and the Scorching Sicilian by Kim Lawrence - Free Book Online Page B

deeply.
    It was obviously a postscript to her light-headed moment. Marco Speranza’s physical presence was overwhelming and, standing beside him, crushingly devastating, but she wasn’t going to faint just because he stood next to her.
    She walked through the door into the outer office before him.
    â€˜Perhaps it would be better, Mr Speranza, if you let me explain things to Amber when I get back.’ The man and woman who were sitting in the outer office looked up as they entered.
    He angled a dark brow and echoed, ‘Get back? Get back where?’
    â€˜Home…’ She stopped abruptly, her face falling as she realised home was the one place she was not allowed to go. ‘To London,’ she added huskily.
    Marco who had seen the flash of deep sadness on her face wondered what had put it there. Though, whatever personal problems this woman had they were none of his business unless they affected her work.
    â€˜I don’t think, Miss Balfour, you understand that you have been on my payroll since we shook on this deal. I expect you to start work in the morning.’

CHAPTER SEVEN
    S OPHIE stared at him in horror.
    â€˜Morning!’ she yelped. ‘But that’s not possible. I’m only here for the night and I have nothing…’ Literally nothing—unless the airline tracked down her lost luggage—not even a toothbrush. ‘And we didn’t shake.’ It was not something she would have forgotten.
    â€˜You’re a very literal-minded young woman,’ Marco observed before adding, ‘How young, really?’
    â€˜It’s not polite to ask a woman’s age, but I wasn’t lying—I’m twenty-three.’
    She lifted her chin and thought, If he can ask so can I. ‘How old are you?’
    â€˜In experience, several centuries older than you, cara .’
    His brow puckered as he studied her face. The exploits of the Balfour heiresses represented everything shallow and superficial that he had turned his back on after the divorce.
    It remained a total mystery to him how a daughter of Oscar Balfour could utterly lack the glitter and polish that the Balfour name represented, how she could be so…wholesome and quite annoyingly naive.
    The form of address brought a flush to Sophie’s cheeks.
    Marco saw the flush and produced a smile that did not warm his emerald eyes. ‘The handshake can be remedied.’
    Deeply regretting she had been so pedantic, Sophie viewed his extended hand with the sort of enthusiasm she’d had when she’d entered a gym at school.
    â€˜I trust you,’ she said, tucking her hand behind her back.
    A strangled sound from his subordinate drew Marco’s attention to the couple at the desk.
    â€˜I might require you to work this weekend, Francesco.’ He had the satisfaction of seeing the couple’s faces drop in unison, as he stepped into the lift behind Sophie.
    â€˜Where are you staying?’ He stopped beside a long sleek-looking convertible and opened the passenger door.
    â€˜I don’t know—I came straight here from the airport. Amber hadn’t booked anywhere as she was going to stay with a friend, but she said I should go to…’ She reached into the capacious pocket of her loose-fitting jacket and withdrew the notepad inside, turning it to the relevant page.
    She squeaked in protest as Marco plucked it from her fingers.
    â€˜A nice enough hotel,’ he admitted. ‘But you should stay at…’
    The buzz in Sophie’s head blocked the name. She had spent her life falling in with the suggestions made by others and felt a surge of uncharacteristic rebellion.
    â€˜Because you say so?’
    Marco noted again that the beige English mouse looked decidedly more attractive with an antagonistic glitter in her wide-spaced, dramatically blue eyes.
    She would also, he thought, look good in red.
    It would bring out the creaminess in her skin tone… When was