TITLE: Death by Cannoli
Jennifer strode across the cobblestone Piazza Navona. She glanced at her watch. Swore beneath her breath.
Too late to cancel. Too early to make excuses. Praying she wouldn’t catch her heel in an ancient Roman groove she broke into a jog, dodging tourists while precious seconds slipped by.
If she were lucky, he would wait. If she wasn’t…well, in this laid-back country with its domani attitude she might get away with missing him. The papers didn’t have to be on his desk by this afternoon but it would look better if they were.
She reached the far side of the piazza. Down a narrow alley, around a corner and…there. Il Dolci.
Soon the shop would be part of Fairlane Enterprises. Then no one would ever again dare insinuate she hadn’t worked for what was hers. No one would cast sly gazes her way at parties, twitter behind raised hands that the only reason she was wealthy was that she’d been born into an empire.
No, this acquisition had been all her work. Hers and hers alone. She hadn’t coasted on her family’s fortune or hung onto any coattails.
The satisfaction she would experience for being the one to pull off this coup was going to be worth every hour she’d spent pretending to be an ill-treated assistant instead of who she really was, Jennifer Fairlane Turner—one of the wealthiest women in the world.