Taming Her Italian Boss Read online

  Ruby glanced over her shoulder towards the corridor, and Sofia’s bedroom. She could just about hear the warm tones of Fina’s voice as she read her granddaughter a fairy story. ‘There’s something to be said for stripping the preconceptions and prejudices of the past away and looking at things with fresh eyes.’

  ‘Did my mother put you up to saying that?’

  She turned back, expecting him to be scowling, but his face was almost neutral, save for the barest hint of a smile.

  One corner of Ruby’s mouth lifted. ‘No. I think I’m quite capable of irritating you without outside help.’

  Max laughed, and it made something rise like a balloon inside Ruby and bump against the ceiling of her ribs.

  He walked towards the door in the path of a long, golden shadow. ‘Come on,’ he said.

  Ruby frowned, but she turned to follow anyway. ‘Where?’

  He stopped and looked back at her. ‘You missed seeing Venice at sunset last night because I had an attack of stupid. It’s only right I should make it up to you tonight.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  AS THEY WALKED along the little wooden dock in front of his mother’s palazzo, Max couldn’t help but remember being there with Ruby the night before. He jumped down into the little speedboat, and Ruby followed him. Without even asking, she helped with the ropes and fenders.

  She’d only been here a week, and no one had shown her what to do. She’d just picked it up, that quick mind of hers soaking up all the information and putting it effortlessly to use.

  She sat in the stern as he drove the boat away, silent. The outfit tonight was the plainest one yet. No hippies. No rock chicks. No damn strawberries. All she wore was a cream blouse with soft ruffles, a pair of capris and a light cardigan thrown over her shoulders. He watched her drink in the way the setting sun made every façade richer and more glorious, harking back to the days when some had actually been covered entirely in gold leaf.

  In fact, he found it hard to stop watching her.

  But he needed to.

  Ruby Lange seemed bright and sunny and harmless, but she was a dangerous substance. She dissolved through his carefully constructed walls without even trying. He really should keep her at a distance.

  Then why did you invite her to come out with you this evening?

  Because it was the right thing to do. He’d acted like a total idiot the previous evening and so he was making it up to her. And he’d given his word. He’d said he’d show her Venice at sunset and so he was going to show her Venice at sunset.

  Yeah, right. You keep telling yourself that. It has nothing to do with wanting to be alone with her, with wanting her to melt those walls that have left you claustrophobic and breathless for too long.

  Max steered the boat down the canal and busied himself doing what he’d come here to do—no, not spend time alone with Ruby, but offer his services as tour guide and boat driver. He beckoned for her to come up and stand beside him, pointed out a few landmarks, and they talked easily about history and architecture for at least ten minutes.

  It wasn’t working.

  Inside there was a timer counting down, ticking away the seconds until the sun slipped below the horizon and he and Ruby would be cocooned in the dark. He couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  He needed to remember why this was a bad idea, remember why Ruby wasn’t right for him. As alluring as she might be, last night’s uproar had proved one thing quite firmly: Ruby Lange ran when things got too close, when things got too serious. And these days he was nothing but serious.

  He slowed the engine a little and looked over at her. ‘Why do you move from job to job?’

  She tore her gaze off the city and looked at him. ‘I told you the other night. I want to find my perfect fit, like my father has. Like you have.’

  He took his eyes off her for a moment to steer past a boat going a little slower than they were. ‘Does it have to be perfect?’

  Ruby gave him a puzzled smile. ‘Well, I’d like it to be. Who wants to do a job their whole life if they have no passion for it?’

  ‘Millions of people do.’

  She shook her head. ‘I want more out of life. I’m tired with settling for crumbs. I want the whole banquet.’

  He nodded. That part he understood only too well, but there was something else she hadn’t considered.

  ‘Whatever my mother says, I wasn’t sure about architecture, at least not when it came time to choose a profession,’ he told her, returning his gaze to the canal, as they’d turned into a busier, wider stretch and he needed to pay attention, but every now and then he glanced over at her. ‘I liked it. It fascinated me, but, like you, I wasn’t sure it was what I wanted to do with my life. I often wondered if I’d picked it because I wanted to impress my father.’

  On his next glance across her eyes were wide. ‘It’s not your passion?’ she almost whispered. ‘Because if it isn’t, I’d be fascinated to see what you’re like when you really get into something!’

  He smiled. ‘No. It is my passion, or at least it is now. What I’m trying to say is that what if there is no perfect job, not at the start? What if it’s the learning, the discipline of immersing yourself in it and scaling the learning curves that makes it a perfect fit?’

  She frowned and her eyes made tiny, rapid side-to-side movements as she worked that one out in her head. She frowned harder. He guessed she hadn’t been able to neatly file that thought and shove it away out of sight.

  ‘But how do you do that and not lose your heart and soul to something that might not be the right choice?’ Her voice dropped to the scratchiest of whispers. ‘What do you do if you choose something and it doesn’t choose you back?’

  He shrugged. Maybe he’d been lucky. ‘But there’s the irony—you may never know unless you try.’

  She folded her arms, scowled and turned away to look at the buildings as he turned the boat onto the Grand Canal. ‘That’s a very Italian thing to say,’ she muttered darkly.

  ‘I am half Italian,’ he reminded her.

  She shot him a saucy look. ‘And there was me, thinking you’d forgotten.’

  Then she turned and just absorbed the scenery. They’d come from the relative quiet and muted tones of the smaller canals onto the wide strip of water that snaked through the centre of the city. Suddenly it was all light and colour.

  Sunset seemed further away here, out of the shadows of the tall buildings, where the remaining light reflected off the water onto the palazzos and back into the sky. Awnings were pulled down over restaurants that lined the water’s edge, and the spaces inside were bustling, full of warm light and moving people.

  She looked across at him. ‘Talking of trying, your mother is very pleased you’re staying on.’

  He gave her a resigned look. ‘I know.’

  ‘So why won’t you let her try, Max?’

  There she went again, tapping at his walls with her little pickaxe, testing them for weak spots.

  ‘Have you ever listened to her side of the story?’ she continued. ‘Or have you always gone on what your father told you?’

  Ouch.

  She’d found one. A chink in his perception of his life that he hadn’t even realised had been there. He tried to plug it up. ‘I saw enough with my own eyes,’ he replied gruffly. ‘And my father rarely spoke of her.’

  But the damage had been done. Memories started spilling into his brain, scenes of his parents’ marriage. He’d always thought he’d understood what was going on so clearly, but it was as if this was another version of the same film, and different details sprang to life, tiny things that tipped everything on its head—the look of desperation in his mother’s eyes, the way she’d sobbed late into the night, the way she’d looked at his father, with such adoration, in both good times and bad.

  He
drowned them out by taking another, busier route with the boat, so he had to give driving it his full concentration. He steered the boat down the canal and out towards St Mark’s Square. It was full of gondolas of sighing tourists here, and he felt his irritation with the city, with its over-the-topness returning. Maybe Ruby had something in her idea of not wanting to give your heart and soul to something, only to be disappointed.

  ‘Can you try?’ she asked softly.

  As always, she took what he was prepared to give and pushed him to cough up more. The sensation was one rather akin to having a particularly sticky plaster ripped off a tender patch of skin.

  ‘And that’s what happens in your family, is it?’ He glanced skyward, noticing neither the pink drifting clouds nor the orange sky behind them. ‘Last I heard, you were all for keeping parents at a safe distance.’

  Ruby looked at her shoes. He couldn’t see her cheeks, but he’d bet they were warmer than they’d been a few seconds ago. ‘I didn’t think you’d remember that,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Well, I did.’ She could have been right, though. He managed to tune out most people most of the time, but there was something about Ruby that made him listen, even when he’d dearly like to switch everything off and sink into blessed silence. ‘So maybe you should practise what you preach before you start lecturing me.’

  She shuffled her feet and looked up at him, arms still hugging herself. ‘Okay, maybe I should. But I’ve tried over the years with my father, Max, and he always keeps me at arm’s length, no matter what.’

  That was hard to believe. Look at her, with her large, expressive eyes, her zest for life, which still seemed to be threatening to burst out of her, despite her slightly subdued mood. He was having trouble maintaining a distance of arm’s length.

  ‘Why?’ he asked, glad for a chance to swing the interrogation light her way.

  Ruby sat down on one of the cushioned benches. Max slowed the motor and brought the craft to a halt, letting it bob on the canal as the pleasure boats, vaporetti and gondolas drifted past. He turned to lean against the steering wheel and looked back at her.

  She shook her head, staring out across the dark green canal, now flecked with pink and gold from the setting sun. ‘It took me years to even come close to forming a theory on that one. It’s partly because he’s so absorbed in his work, and it’s got worse the older he gets. There are only so many weeks and hours left to educate the world about the unique habitats the human race is ripping through, the species we’re forcing into extinction. How can one “flighty” child compete against all of that?’

  ‘What’s the other part?’

  Ruby looked up at him. ‘He has plenty of friends and colleagues who have wild children—celebrity offspring syndrome, I’ve heard him call it. Over-indulged, privileged, reckless. I think he wanted to save me from that.’

  That was understandable, but surely anyone who knew Ruby knew she wasn’t that sort. She might be impulsive, but that came from her creativity, not out of selfishness or arrogant stupidity.

  She sighed and stood up, walked to the back of the boat, even though it was only a few steps. ‘I came to understand his logic eventually. I think he thinks that if he rations out the attention and approval then he won’t spoil me.’ She sighed again. ‘It’s so sad, especially as I know he wasn’t like that with my mother. He’d have given her anything.’

  Max didn’t say anything, mainly because he was rubbish at saying the right thing at the right time, but he also suspected she just needed room to talk.

  ‘I can’t live on the scraps he hands out,’ she said sadly. ‘He doesn’t understand it, but women, be they wives or daughters or sisters, need more than that.’

  They both fell into silence. Max thought of his mother, and wondered if Ruby was thinking of her too. He’d never wanted for approval from his father—not that the old man had ever said anything out loud—but they’d been so alike. It had been easy to see the things beneath the surface, hear the words his father had never been able to say. For the first time ever it struck him that maybe not everyone had that ability.

  They’d been so different, Geoffrey and Serafina Martin. His mother emotional and demonstrative, his father stoic and silent. He’d always thought their extreme personality types should make them the perfect complement for each other, but maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe that had been the reason for his mother’s midnight tears; she’d desperately needed to reap some of the tangible demonstrations of love she’d so generously sowed.

  He nodded slowly. ‘I’m starting to understand that.’ He caught her eye. ‘And it makes sense why it’s easier to run away, rather than stay.’

  He didn’t like to say that. It went against everything in him, but he couldn’t ignore the sense in it.

  Ruby read him like a book. She laughed a soft little dry laugh. ‘And you think you don’t?’

  Max stood up, his brows bunching together. No, he didn’t run. He was the one that was solid, stuck things out.

  She walked towards him, until she was standing right in front of him. ‘You can’t be fully committed to something if you keep part of yourself back. It’s cheating—a bit like this lagoon.’ She stretched her arm out to encompass the water, including the tiniest glimpse of the open sea in the distance. ‘It looks like the deep blue sea, smells like it, tastes like it, but when you try and jump all the way in you find out how shallow it is. Commitment is easy when it’s only ankle deep.’

  Max wanted to be angry with her. He wanted to tell her she was so very wrong, but he couldn’t. Instead he exhaled long and hard and met Ruby’s enquiring gaze. ‘That makes us two very similar creatures, then.’

  She stared back at him, more than a hint of defiance in her expression. ‘Yes.’

  On the surface he and Ruby were chalk and cheese. She was quirky and outspoken, where he was taciturn and strait-laced. She was emotional and effusive, where he...wasn’t. But underneath? Well, that was a whole different story.

  Her eyes softened a little, but the hard-hitting honesty in them remained. ‘Okay, I admit it. I’m a coward when it comes to my family. And maybe I do flit from thing to thing because I’m nervous about committing to anything fully, but you have to face it, Max, despite all your fine words, the only thing you’re truly committed to when it comes to your family is your prejudice and lack of forgiveness.’

  He turned and started up the engine again. The canals—even this wide, spacious one—we’re closing in on him, and the sun would slip below the horizon soon. He headed out of the end of the Grand Canal and into the lagoon, so they could see the painfully bright orange smudge settling behind the monastery on Isola di San Giorgio. Out here the salty wind soothed him. He felt as if he could breathe properly again.

  Ruby hadn’t said anything since they’d set off again. She’d just sat down on the bench and crossed her arms. He slowed the motor and checked on her. She didn’t look happy. He had a feeling he’d have no trouble keeping her at arm’s length now. He might as well dig himself in further.

  ‘Have you forgiven your father?’

  She chewed her lip for a while. ‘I hadn’t realised I needed to, but maybe I do.’ She looked up and noticed the sunset for the first time. ‘Oh,’ she said, her face lighting up, and Max couldn’t bear to tear his eyes from her and turn around.

  After staring for a moment, her focus changed and he could tell she was now studying him instead. ‘I’m not sure it’ll change anything. He’ll probably still treat me the same way, but with you and Fina... It could change everything.’

  ‘Maybe,’ he said. And then he turned to watch the sun descend into the blue-grey water. They didn’t say anything as it went down, just watched in silence, the only sound the gentle waves of the lagoon slapping against the hull of the little painted boat, then he started up the engine again. ‘Do you want to go round the island?’

 
A twinkle of mischief appeared in her eyes, totally blindsiding him. ‘You know what I’d really like?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘We’re always being so safe when Sofia is in the boat, puttering around, going slow down the canals. I’d like to go out onto the open water and build up some speed, see what this little vintage baby can do.’

  Max set off again at a moderate speed, at least until they’d rounded the large island in front of them and faced the open lagoon. Out here there was only the occasional ferry, plenty of room to let off some steam, and he discovered he was yearning for it as much as she was.

  ‘Ready?’ he asked, and shoved the throttle forward before she had time to answer.

  Ruby squealed and hung on to the woodwork in front of her as the bow of the little boat lifted, skimming through the moonlit waves, and the wind rushed through their hair. At first she was silent, her breath taken by the change in speed, but as he circled around and the boat tilted she began to laugh, then she let out a loud whoop.

  Max found himself laughing too, which was insane, seeing as how serious he’d been feeling only minutes earlier. He kept the speed up, took a few unexpected turns, raced the waves out towards Lido Island and then back again until they were both windswept and breathless.

  As they circled the Isola di San Giorgio again, he reluctantly slowed the engine. The sky was a velvety midnight blue above them and the lights and reflections of Venice were threatening to outnumber the stars in their brilliance and beauty.

  Ruby sighed. ‘Can we stop here for a moment, before we head back home? I won’t get a chance to see this again.’

  He didn’t answer, just circled one last time then flipped the key in the ignition and cut the engine. Ruby got up and walked shakily towards him as they got caught up in their own wake. She stopped before she got too close, though. Still out of reach. Just.

  Another surge hit them. Max hardly noticed it, being used to boats as he was, but Ruby lost her footing, wobbled slightly.