Catering to the Italian Playboy Read Online Free PDF

to fall into bed with a stranger. At least not anymore.
    His gut knotted. Good God, if she had been grieving then he had taken advantage of her even if he hadn’t known it at the time. But ignorance was no excuse. What he had done was inexcusable and went against everything he believed in. The thought settled in his stomach like a stone.
    He had never taken advantage of a woman. Had never led one to believe he could give them more than a no-strings-attached fling. Yet, somehow he had unwittingly taken advantage of Sophie in her time of grief. Why hadn’t he seen it?
    Sure, she’d had a few drinks in the downstairs bar and had seemed more than willing to participate, but there had been something about her. A sadness that should have raised a red flag.
    God, he hoped she never remembered that night and what he had done.
    Bile lifted to his throat; he swallowed back the bitterness. Hiring her as his caterer suddenly lost its appeal. He couldn’t seduce her now. Not after so callously taking advantage of her during her a vulnerable time in her life. A time she obviously still struggled to deal with.
    Yet if he didn’t hire her, the press would have a field day with the news. He could see the headline now: Billionaire Playboy Doesn’t Have the Appetite for Local Caterer!
    Max blew a breath between his lips. The media would annihilate her, and her career would be over before it got off the ground.
    The knot pretzeled tighter in his gut. He understood how hard it was to get ahead in this world. He’d once struggled to make it to the top too. Climbed out of the trenches of poverty and overcame his orphaned background to become one of the wealthiest men in the world. It hadn’t been easy and there were many times his own success teetered on the edge, but with grit and determination he’d finally made it. Though he was successful now, that didn’t mean he’d forgotten how hard it was to get here. Or how close he’d come to losing it all.
    But if he did hire her, then there was a very good chance she might remember him and what they’d shared six years ago.
    And when she did, she would hate him for what he’d done.
    His hand tightened on the fork. He couldn’t let the press destroy her before she had a chance to prove herself. He had no choice. He’d have to give her the catering job and take his chances. If she hated him then so be it. Let the chips fall where they may.
    “Chicken Piccata Marsala.” Sophie pulled a dish from the other tray and set it in front of him as steaming spices reached his nostrils. He glanced up to find Sophie staring at him with worried green eyes. She offered a half-smile. “ Bon appetite .”
    Max studied her for a moment then took a bite. The dish was probably as fantastic as everything else she had prepared, but he couldn’t taste it. All he could taste was the bitterness of his actions.
    Sophie’s worried eyes darted from the press outside her window then back to him. Max forced the bite of chicken past his throat, then with as much enthusiasm as he could muster he drew his fingers together and touched them to his lips. With a dramatic Italian kiss he flung out his hand and said, “ Delizioso! ”
    Cameras flashed wildly outside the window and Max caught Sophie’s dimpled smile.
    His heart missed a beat. She really was lovely when she smiled.
    Dio! Give me strength!

 
    ** THREE **
     
    “Okay, boss, spill it.” Felicity plopped down in the seat Max vacated moments earlier, propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. “I want the whole scoop on McSexy. And don’t leave out any of the juicy details either.” She waggled her eyebrows at Sophie like Groucho Marx.
    Heat climbed Sophie’s face at the thought of spilling any juicy details about Max. “I don’t know why you keep calling me boss. We’ve been best friends for years. You’re practically my business partner.”
    “Because technically you are the boss – at least on paper – and I’m just