A Ruthless Bargain

minutes. We’ll have to work through dinner,” Dante Damaso commanded as he

that afternoon and had hit the ground running, with one meeting after the next, as they attempted to deal with the bureaucratic red tape that had delayed the start of

wasn’t done working, and that mean

nse, picking up a newspaper and perusing the headlines with the intense focus he gave whatever activity he h

il she’d seen the suite. Her entire apartment back in Cape Town could fit into this place several times over. It had three huge bedrooms, two full bathroom

eas the boss barely looked winded. It was a little infuriating how indefatigable he was, especially since it impacted Cleo directly. She si

s still damp from the shower, and she hadn’t bothered with makeup. She hoped that the boss wouldn’t mind her lack of formality and was relieved to note that he’d removed his tie, unbuttoned the top two button

grunted when she

a list of the most pertinent facts. Then take care of the day’s corr

and gasped in outrage when she saw the room-service cart standing off to the side of the room, with the uncovered empty plates precariously stacked one on top of the other. Another quick look around the room told her that there was definitely no o

creen of his phone. “We have a lot of work to do. I didn’t br

ly choice as assistant. And since the man had avoided testing her full potential in the office up until now, he didn’t trust her to get anything done competently. Still, Cleo had jumped at the opportunity to join him. The heady excitement of a trip

s was doing his lev

wo words over and over to herself. No mouthing o

ny meetings, Cleo was starting to feel cross-eyed from staring at the computer screen too long. Her brain was scrambled, and she was practicall

pped tapping at the keys and frowned ov

hile he had suggested a break, he wasn’t taking one himself—his head was once more bent over zoning ordinances and blueprints. The man really was tireless, a trait that she found both admirable and frustrating a