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different answer than he desired.
    “No, no boyfriend,” she said.
    A sliver of relief slid through him at her soft words. Not that he cared if she had a boyfriend, of course. But it would make it much easier if she did not.
    “Any pets?”
    “No. No pets. I had a cat, but he died last year.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    She shrugged, as if she were trying to say it was nothing. And yet he wasn’t fooled. He could hear the sadness in her voice. “It’s fine. He was old and it was his time. I wanted to get a kitten, but they need so much attention. Well, any cat does, really, and I work a lot so …”
    Her voice trailed off and he found himself feeling somewhat guilty, as if he was at fault because she hadn’t gotten another cat. He did work long hours, and sometimes she stayed behind, too, not leaving the office until after seven or eight in the evening.
    No, a cat would not like that. Neither would a boyfriend.
    She shrugged again. “I’m sorry. You didn’t really want to know all that. I’m babbling.”
    “I’ve never heard you babble, Faith. I would hardly classifythis as babbling.” He knew babbling. Katie had been a babbler. He’d found it somewhat annoying that she couldn’t ever stop talking, but he’d tried to keep her mouth too occupied to talk whenever they were together.
    Renzo frowned. What had he ever seen in Katie? Besides the perfect body, of course? She’d been so shallow, so self-absorbed. Why had he surrounded himself with that?
    “Well, I’m babbling now. My mom would say I—”
    He heard her indrawn breath. “Would say what?” he prodded when she didn’t continue.
    “Nothing. It’s nothing.” She’d folded her hands on her lap again, and he found himself wanting to take one of her soft hands in his and rub circles in her palm the way he’d done before. Just to feel that tremor slide through her.
    “You can tell me,” he said.
    “I’d rather not.”
    She sounded so prim, so controlled. It made him wonder. How had she worked for him for six months and he didn’t know anything about her? She didn’t seem to want to talk about her past. And though he wanted to command her to tell him what she’d been about to say, he could hardly do so. It wasn’t like he enjoyed talking about his past—his family—either.
    His mother was a good woman who’d worked hard all her life, but he was still somewhat embarrassed by his origins. He shouldn’t be, but he was. Not because of her, but because of the Conte de Lucano. From the moment he’d learned who his father was when he was eight years old, the one time the man had come to see them and threatened his mother if she dared tell anyone who had fathered her child, he’d felt inferior. Damaged. Like garbage tossed on a scrap heap.
    For all he knew, Faith felt the same. “You do not like talking about your family,” he said.
    She sighed. “No, I don’t like talking about them. I left years ago and I’m never going back.”
    It was the closest thing to a vow he’d ever heard her utter. She said it with such conviction. Such bitterness.
    Such passion.
    Renzo felt a jolt of awareness curl through him.
Maledizione
, was he mad? She was his PA, and though he didn’t quite understand where this sudden attraction to her sprang from, she was most definitely off-limits. She had to be. He needed to concentrate on the Viper, and he needed his efficient PA at his side, taking care of the business side of his life while he rode the hell out of the motorcycle and worked on the adjustments to the design. If he crossed the line with her, he could endanger everything—in so much as she might leave and he’d have to train a new PA when he did not have the time.
    No, Renzo could not afford to endanger anything right now when time was critical. When Niccolo Gavretti was just waiting to find a weakness he could exploit in his quest to destroy Renzo and D’Angeli Motors. He should have crushed Niccolo when he’d had the chance, but he’d been