Free Unnoticed and Untouched by Lynn Raye Harris

plush leather chair by a window and sipping a cappuccino while reading something on his mobile tablet. Totally engrossed, he hadn’t noticed her at first, and she’d let her eyes feast on him. His dark hair was full and lush, and it still looked slightly wild, as if he’d been racing on the track with the wind blowing through it. Artfully tousled, sexy, as if some woman had been running her fingers through it while he made love to her.
    He was dressed in a navy pinstripe suit with a light blue shirt and a dark red tie. On his feet were custom-made Italian loafers. He looked every inch the billionaire and nothing like the daredevil Grand Prix racer at the moment.
    She must have made a noise, because he’d lifted his head and spied her there. The frown on his face had not made her happy. No, it had made her feel about two inches tall, but she’d pushed through it and pretended she hadn’t noticedwhile she took her seat in front of him and prepared to go over his appointments.
    Now they were in a Mercedes limousine, moving toward the center of Rome, and Faith couldn’t help but gape at the sights. She’d never seen anything so old and magnificent in her life. Everywhere you looked, there were crumbling ruins set beside ornate churches, and people moving around as if it were completely ordinary to be surrounded by such beauty.
    The early-morning sun shone down on the city, picking out the bright whites of marble monuments and highlighting the red sandstone of ancient ruins. The traffic was heavy as they rounded the Colosseum, and tears pricked at the back of her eyes.
    She’d always wanted to see it, and now it was here, huge, sandy-white and red, and imposing against the bright blue Roman sky. There was a cross set in the outer ring of stone that caught her eye.
    Renzo looked up then and saw the question in her gaze. “It is actually a church now,” he said. “The Pope holds a service in the Colosseum once a year.”
    Tourists ringed the grounds as they drove around the structure. Soon, they were passing the ruins of the Forum Romanum. People walked along the sidewalks between the Forum and the Colosseum, and vendors lined the way, selling food, scarves and other trinkets. The ride grew bumpy as they drove over the vast swath of cobblestones near the Vittorio Emanuele military monument. Cars converged in the giant circle and honked, scooters blaring past, before traffic straightened out again and they were moving down a narrow street lined with stores and restaurants.
    A short while later, the limousine came to a stop on the Via dei Condotti and Renzo’s driver hopped out to open the door. Renzo stepped onto the pavement and Faith followed,coming up short when all she saw were high-end fashion stores. Renzo’s security emerged from another car, and then Renzo was propelling her toward the nearest shop.
    “What are we doing?” she asked as the door swung open to let them into a salon. An expensively dressed woman behind the counter looked up and greeted them in Italian.
    Renzo said something to her, and then her eyes slid toward Faith. To the woman’s credit, her expression did not change.
    “What is going on?” Faith demanded as the woman picked up a phone and made a call.
    “You are getting your hair done,” Renzo said.
    Faith’s hand came up to pat her bun. “My hair is fine,” she hissed under her breath.
    Renzo looked unconvinced. “And I say it is not,
cara
. We are in Italia now, and you are the personal assistant to a very rich man. I cannot have you managing my appointments and greeting my business associates like this.”
    Faith spluttered. “I look professional. There’s nothing wrong with what I’m wearing. Or how I’ve styled my hair. Your business associates won’t care. You are making that up.”
    “They
will
care. Even my grandmother had more style than you,
piccolo
.” He took her briefcase from her numb fingers while her heart throbbed with hurt. “Consider this a part of your