Her Brooding Italian Boss Read Online Free PDF Page B

Or make yourself something to eat. The staff doesn’t return until tomorrow, but the kitchen is all yours.”
    He left her then and she fell to the bed, trepidation filling her. So much for thinking he’d changed his mind about keeping her. He was going to Constanzo’s to confront him about hiring her. When he came back, he’d probably tell her that her services were no longer needed.
    She wanted to stay. Not just because she needed a job, loved getting room and board and wanted some time away from everyone to figure out her life, but also because Antonio was so sad. Somebody needed to help him.
    Empathy for Constanzo rippled through her, total understanding of why he desperately wanted to do something to lift his son out of his sadness. Antonio was a good man. Life had treated him abysmally by taking away his beloved wife. He deserved to have someone nudge him back into the real world. And having someone to help actually gave her a way to forget about her own troubles. It could be the perfect situation for both of them.
    Except Antonio didn’t want her.
    Her stomach rumbled and she rose. Might as well find the kitchen and make herself something to eat. Because this time tomorrow she’d probably be on a plane back to New York.
    A failure again.
    But on her way to the kitchen, the beauty of the house superseded her need for food as it lured her from one room to the next. She hadn’t expected a stuffy, formal house. Antonio was too creative for that. But she also hadn’t expected to be so charmed by paintings and sculptures that added life and energy to brightly colored sofas, or the eclectic dining room that had a long wood table and sixteen different-styled chairs around it.
    Eventually she found herself at the door of a room with a desk and a tall-backed chair, which fronted a huge office with an enormous window through which she could see the pool and the field of flowers behind it.
    His office?
    With an office in front? For an assistant?
    Had he had an assistant before? Could Constanzo be right? Was he ready for someone again?
    She entered hesitantly. Stacks of papers littered the first desk, the desk she believed would belong to an assistant. But his room was empty, his desk dusty though free of clutter.
    She walked in slowly, ran her fingers through the dust on his desk, curious again. From the coating of dust alone, she’d swear he hadn’t been in this room since his wife died.
    At the wall of glass, she stopped. The window was actually a series of doors, which she slid aside. A warm breeze fluttered in, bringing the scent of the pool not more than twenty feet away. When forced to do paperwork, Antonio could be poolside.
    Sheesh. The rich really knew how to live.
    With a sigh, she closed the doors. But as she walked into the outer office, she saw all those papers piled high on the assistant’s desk. A film of dust dulled the white of envelopes. Dust covered the arms of the desk chair. But that was nothing compared to the sheer volume of untouched paperwork, unopened mail.
    Glancing around, she combed her fingers through her hair. It was no wonder Constanzo wanted his son to hire a PA. He clearly needed some assistance.
    And, technically, helping him straighten this mess was her job—
    If she kept it.
    She walked to the desk, lifted a piece of paper and realized it was a thank-you from a fan. Reading it, she lowered herself to the chair. Obviously, Antonio didn’t know the letter’s author. So a simple note to express appreciation for his kindness in writing would suffice as a reply.
    She leaned back. A box of fancy letterhead caught her eye. A beautiful script
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on Antonio linked with the
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in Bartulocci. What fan wouldn’t want to get a thank-you on the actual letterhead of the artist he admired?
    The desire to turn on the computer and write a quick thank-you tempted her. She faced the monitor that sat on the side arm of the desk. She could press the button that would turn it on...
    No. She couldn’t. It