The Italian Tycoon's Mistress
'What's this?'
It wasn't so much of a question as a demand for an immediate explanation. The past two days had been regularly punctuated by such demands, thinly veiled as polite enquiries. Rocco Losi had descended into the cosy feather bed of Losi Construction like a panther leaping into a gathering of easy prey, intent on a kill.
Richard Newton glanced worriedly to where one long brown finger was pointing at a small entry on the printout and sighed.
'That's one of the subsids,' he explained, leaning forward to peer at the entry and then subsiding back into his chair with a feeling of doom.
'One of the subsids. Where's the paperwork relating to this particular subsid?' Rocco pushed his chair back and coolly contemplated the fair-haired man who seemed to be caught in a state of nervous agitation.
This exercise was proving to be a nightmare from hell and, as far as Rocco was concerned, the level of the executives only helped to aid and abet the impression. It was a marvel that his father's company managed to make the profits it did considering that a great majority of the chief executives were of the old-fashioned, jocular, verging-on-reti ... read full excerpt from: The Italian Tycoon's Mistress ebook
