Taming Her Italian Boss (14 page)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

W
HEN
IT
WAS
TIME
to leave that evening, instead of jumping in the launch via the boat door Max lead Ruby out of Ca’ Damiani’s tiny, almost dowdy street entrance, through a little, high-walled courtyard and out of a nondescript wooden door. There, the narrow
calle
opened onto a wider one, and within five minutes they had entered a secluded little square with a few restaurants and shops that were closed for the night.

They headed for an unremarkable-looking restaurant almost in the corner of the
campo
, with a dull, cappuccino-coloured awning and a few tables and chairs outside. The inside, however, was always a surprise after the mundane exterior. There were whitewashed brick walls and dark wood panelling. A counter stretched down one side, full of doors and drawers, reminiscent of an old-fashioned haberdashery shop. A gramophone perched on a table in the corner and glasses and bottles of wine filled what looked like a bookshelf at the far end of the space.

Ruby turned to him and grinned. He’d guessed she’d like this place. It was quirky and unique, as she was. And it didn’t hurt that it served some of the best seafood in Venice.

They sat at a small table in the corner, overlooking the square, decked out in thick white linen and spotlessly shiny silverware.

It should have been romantic.

It was.

Well, it would have been, but for the conversation he knew had to come. One neither of them would like, but was totally, totally necessary. His plan to work on his designs that morning had been shot to pieces after Ruby’s visit, and he’d spent the couple of hours until lunchtime mulling their situation over and over.

Ruby was changing herself. For him. He’d finally realised that when he’d noticed she’d dyed her hair. The clothes, the more sedate version of Ruby who’d appeared over the last couple of days...it all made sense now. And he hated himself for it.

He
needed
her to be the Ruby he’d fallen in love with, couldn’t settle for anything less. Drastic action was needed.

He wanted to tell her that over dinner, as they ate their marinated raw fish starters, but it was as if there were a glass wall between them. Not a thin sliver, either, that could have been shattered with a ball or a fist, but one ten inches thick that repelled his words, weighed him down.

Was this what his father had felt when he’d looked at his mother? Everything swirling inside so hard and so fast he thought it might consume him with no way to let it out? He feared it was.

Geoffrey Martin had loved his vibrant Italian wife so much. Max had always known that, always respected it. But now he saw that maybe his father had grasped too hard and given too little back. Serafina had been what he’d needed to bring him out of his shell, balance him out, but he hadn’t been what she’d needed. Or had chosen not to be. For the first time in his life, Max realised his father had been selfish, and that had created an imbalance in the relationship that had ultimately doomed it to failure.

The same kind of imbalance he was aware of when he thought about himself and the petite, vibrant woman sitting opposite him, eating her blackened sea bass.

He would not make the same mistake. He would not be a coward and make Ruby pay for his weakness. He wouldn’t let her crush her spirit for him, deny everything she was and wanted to be. It was too high a price to pay. But there was only one way he could think of preventing that, even if it meant a colourless, bleak future ahead for himself. But he’d do it—for her.

He took a deep breath, hoping she’d answer differently this time, hoping she’d spare them both. ‘Are you still determined to take that job with your father?’

Ruby looked up from her fish and met Max’s gaze. When he’d mentioned going out to dinner this evening, she’d thought the conversation might have been a little more...intimate. This was a wonderful chance for them to be away from the palazzo, to be romantic with each other, and yet he wanted to talk about her father? Talk about a passion killer.

‘Yes.’ She was determined to show him she could stick at something, think about the big picture rather than just the details of the here and now.

He sighed. ‘I wish you wouldn’t.’

She put her knife and fork down and looked at him helplessly. ‘Why?’

‘Because it’s not your passion.’

She reached for her wine glass. ‘It could be my passion. Like you said, how do I know if I don’t try?’

To be honest, she didn’t care about the job. It was just a means to an end. What she was really passionate about was being with Max. But in his current strange mood, she wasn’t sure he was ready to hear that. She’d do anything it took. Anything. Even taking that job with her father.

‘And I can’t say anything to change your mind?’

She shook her head. ‘No.’ Max wanted to see if she could stick to something? Well, she wasn’t budging on this, even if it killed her.

He went back to eating his food, his expression grim. What had she said now?

They finished their meals, only punctuating the silence with odd snatches of meaningless conversation, until their espressos came, then Max sat up straighter and looked her in the eye. ‘I need to talk to you about something...something important.’

His expression was so serious, but instead of making her jittery, it melted her heart. He was so earnest, so full of wanting to do the right thing, and she loved him for it. When Max’s heart was in something, it was all-in, and she could allow him a little severity in return for that. She reached out and covered his hand with hers across the table. His skin felt cool and smooth.

‘I told you when I hired you that this was going to be a two-week job at most and we’ve exceeded that now.’

This was it. This was the conversation. About where they were going when they got back to London, her stupid secret fantasies on the verge of coming true. Ruby forced herself to sit still and listen, which was hard with her heart fluttering about madly inside her ribcage like a trapped bird. She nodded, encouraging him to keep going.

‘Well, I think it’s time your contract came to an end.’

Ruby blinked. That wasn’t what she’d expected him to say at all. Was this a particularly ‘Max’ way of saying their relationship was moving fully from professional to personal? ‘Okay. So when are we heading back to London?’

He swallowed. ‘I’m not, but you are.’

Ruby removed her hand from on top of his and sat back. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘I can’t begin to thank you for the way you’ve helped me change,’ he said, and while his expression remained granite-like his eyes warmed. She could feel her heart reaching out to him, even as all her other instincts told her to back away. ‘But it’s time for me to fly solo.’

‘What does that mean?’

He broke eye contact. ‘I need to learn to interact with my family without having you there as both catalyst and buffer. I need to learn to do it on my own, Ruby.’

She shook her head, not really sure which bit of information she was rejecting, or why. ‘But I can just keep out of the way... I can...’

He shook his head. ‘You’ve been amazing, but now it’s time for you to go home.’ A gruff laugh followed. ‘I’d say it was time for you to travel, to explore, to find whatever it is you’re looking for in life, but you’re determined to take that damn job with your father.’

She frowned. ‘Yes, I am. But what has that got to do with anything?’

He just looked at her, as if he was trying to send a message with his eyes, but she got nothing. Those walls were back up, weren’t they? He was shutting her out. Her stomach dropped as she realised that was what this had all been about. He’d been pulling away slowly for the last couple of days, hadn’t he? She’d just been too stupidly in love with him to notice.

You’ve finally done it, Ruby. Brava. You’ve jumped in with your heart, given it wholly and completely, and the man you’ve given it to doesn’t want it. He’s handing it back to you on a plate. Thanks, but no, thanks.

Part of her couldn’t quite believe it.

‘But when you get back to London, will we...?’

Now the message from his eyes got through. Loud and clear.

No.

There would be no London.

There would be no Max for her. All they would ever have was what had happened here in Venice.

‘Max?’ she croaked.

He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Ruby. Professionally speaking, I don’t need you any longer.’

She swallowed. ‘And personally?’

Max didn’t say anything, just sat ramrod straight in his chair, jaw tense, eyes empty.

That was when the bird inside stopped fluttering madly. In fact, Ruby wasn’t sure there was any movement at all any more.

* * *

She’d never been fired from a job—mainly because she always left before that kind of eventuality arose—but Max had managed to make her first experience of it a real doozy.

I don’t need you.

Professional and personal rejection in one go. Nice shot.

She got up, threw her napkin down and walked out of the restaurant.

Thankfully, the fact they’d walked here meant she could find her way back to the palazzo on her own, and once there she’d pack. In
three
minutes. And then she’d be out of here, and there was no way Max Martin would stop her this time.

He caught up with her not long afterwards, as she was leaving a wider street and turning into a narrow, cobbled one.

‘Ruby!’

Heavy footsteps pounded behind her, getting closer. She kept walking.

‘Where are you going?’ He didn’t sound flustered or bothered at all, just slightly out of breath from the running. It made her want to scream.

Home
, she almost said, but then she realised just how stupidly inaccurate that was. ‘Back to the palazzo,’ she said. ‘I thought that was obvious.’

He fell into step beside her, and the narrowness of the
calle
meant he was far too close. ‘You don’t have to leave straight away. Wait until the morning.’

That sounded so generous, so reasonable. She regretted not having that contract now, because maybe, just maybe, she could have found something in it so she could sue his sorry hide for breaching it, for false advertising...
something
. There was no way she was staying here overnight. What did he want her to do? Lie in bed and cry over him? She wasn’t that girl. It was time to move on. Onwards and upwards, remember?

She stomped down the street, glad she was wearing her ballet flats. They might not produce a satisfying echo, but they did make for a quick getaway. How could she have read him so wrong?

A series of images flashed through her head: kissing on the boat as the sun set over the lagoon, watching him building castles with Sofia the very first time, the moment that stupid little crab had bit her on the finger, and, last, the way he’d whistled for an island to appear out of the sea.

She stopped walking.

That was the real Max. She was sure of it.

He froze beside her, but she kept staring straight ahead.

She’d lived in the same house as this man for two weeks, and one thing she knew: he wasn’t that good of a liar. He might keep things locked away, but he wasn’t a man to kiss and run, to promise one thing with his eyes and smiles and lips and then deliver another. Was he?

She turned to face him. His features gave nothing away.

That should have made her angry, but it didn’t. Instead, the fire she’d been ready to unleash on him flickered out. This was the façade, wasn’t it? The face he showed when he wanted to pretend to the world that nothing got to him. The face he was showing to her to let her know the same. If there was a lie Max Martin told, this was it. The only one.

She searched his face, desperately looking for some hint she was right. His expression remained blank, but his jaw tightened. She started walking again, until they reached the little wooden door that led to the palazzo’s tiny courtyard. Once there, she pushed the gate open and walked inside. She waited while he closed it behind him.

Nothing about this evening made sense, except the one truth she kept coming back to. Max Martin did the right thing, even if it killed him, even if it cost all that he had. So what about sending her away was ‘right’, and how on earth did she go about changing his mind?

Something drastic. Something shocking. Something he couldn’t ignore. She was usually good at that. She dug down inside herself, poking in the dark corners of her imagination, to see if she could find anything to help, and came away empty, save for one thing—the only thing she’d been able to think about for the last few days.

‘I love you,’ she blurted out, and waited for his reaction.

He seemed to grow another layer of cement. ‘I know.’

‘Is that why you’re sending me away?’ she asked, a small wobble in her voice betraying her.

He nodded.

No breaking ranks and pulling her into his arms as he had done countless times since that evening on the lagoon. No echoed protestations of love. The silence grew around them. Here in the tiny courtyard with its high wall, it was complete.

So I tried to make him angry...

Fina’s words floated through her head. It wasn’t a great plan, but telling him she loved him had been a worse one. If at least she could get him to show
some
emotion, those walls might start to crack; she might be able to tell if he really felt anything for her at all, or whether it had just been another mirage this city had thrown up. Her heart was telling her one thing and her brain another and she had to stop the Ping-Pong match between them and just
know
.

It shouldn’t be too hard. She seemed to have a special talent for lighting Max’s fuse.

‘You paint yourself as this big, strong man, who can rule the universe and isn’t scared of anything, but underneath it you’re nothing but a coward.’

He blinked. Very slowly.

Ruby felt the air pulse around her head. It had felt good to say those words. She hadn’t anticipated how much.

‘No wonder you can’t get that design for the institute right, no wonder they had reservations about going with you. Because to create something stupendous, first you’d have to
feel
, to dream, but you don’t have the courage.’