Free Taming Her Italian Boss by Unknown

did a stint in a PR firm, I joined an avant-garde performance company—that was too wacky, even for me—and I’ve also busked to earn a crust.’
    His mother’s eyebrows were practically in her hairline. ‘You play an instrument?’ she asked, taking the only salvageable thing from that list.
    Ruby gave her a hopeful smile. ‘I can manage a harmonica and a bit of tap dancing.’
    Lord, help them all! And this was who he’d thought was exactly what he needed? No wonder his sensible plan was falling to pieces.
    ‘And will you stay being a nanny after this? Or is it on to the next thing?’ he asked.
    She shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I know this sounds stupid, but I see the way my father loves his work, and I want to find something that makes me feel like that.’
    His mother leaned forward. ‘What does your father do?’
    Ruby froze, as if she realised she’d said something she shouldn’t. She looked up at them. ‘Oh, he makes nature programmes.’
    ‘What? Like Patrick Lange?’ his mother exclaimed, clapping her hands. ‘I loved his series on lemurs! It was fascinating.’
    ‘Something like that,’ Ruby mumbled.
    Now it was Max’s turn to freeze. Lange?
    ‘Your father’s Patrick Lange?’ he asked, hardly able to keep the surprise from his voice. The man seemed such a steady kind of guy. Max could hardly believe he had a daughter like Ruby.
    She nodded and returned to eating her pasta.
    ‘How marvellous,’ his mother gushed and then the smile disappeared from her face. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry about your mother, Ruby. It was such a tragedy. She was such a wonderful woman.’
    Ruby kept her head down and nodded.
    Max racked his brains. There had been a news story... Oh, maybe fifteen years ago? That was it. Martha and Patrick Lange had always presented their nature documentaries together until she’d contracted some tropical disease in a remote location while filming. She’d reassured everyone she was fine, that it was just a touch of flu, and had carried on, reluctant to abandon the trip. By the time they’d realised what it was, and that she’d needed urgent treatment, it had been too late. She’d died in an African hospital a week later.
    Max watched Ruby push her pasta around her plate. He knew what it was like to lose a parent, and it had been bad enough in his early thirties. Ruby could have only been...what? Nine or ten?
    ‘Anyway,’ Ruby suddenly said, lifting her head and smiling brightly. ‘I’d like to find my perfect fit. My niche.’
    His mother, who had finished her meal, put her knife and fork on her plate and nodded. ‘There’s no sense in doing something if your heart isn’t in it.’
    There she went again. He’d just about forgotten about being angry with her for a moment, distracted by Ruby’s sad story, but she had to dig herself another hole, didn’t she? It just proved she would never change.
    His mother must have noticed the expression on his face, because she stopped smiling at Ruby and sent him a pleading look. He carried on eating his pasta. She tried to smile, even though her eyes glistened in the light from the chandelier.
    ‘Well, maybe being a nanny will be your niche. You’re a natural with Sofia.’
    ‘Thank you, Fina.’ Ruby smiled, properly this time, and the gloom of her previous expression was chased away. How did she do that? How did she just let it all float away like that, find the joy in life again?
    ‘Massimo wanted to be an architect since he’d got his first set of building blocks,’ his mother said. Her face was clear of the hurt he’d seen a few moments ago, but he could hear the strain in her voice. ‘He always wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps.’ She turned to him. ‘He would have been so proud to know you’d secured the commission for the Institute of Fine—’
    Max’s chair shot back as he stood to his feet. ‘Don’t you dare presume to speak for my father,’ he said through clenched teeth. His insides were on