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Cecelia didn’t look up; instead she carried on tapping away on her computer, pretending she hadn’t noticed him.
‘Truce,’ Luka said, and he saw her shoulders drop a little as her tense lips relaxed in a small smile.
‘Truce,’ Cecelia said, and she looked up at him.
‘Let’s go and get dinner.’
Her heart dropped.
Not that she showed it.
Cecelia wanted this day to be over.
More than anything she loathed going to dinner with him.
Or rather she loved going to dinner with him.
Luka was incredibly good company.
But that only made it all so much worse.
CHAPTER THREE (#u245a72a6-f6f3-5e34-95b9-5db1f3a65382)
‘I’LL JUST GO and freshen up,’ Cecelia said and reached for her bag.
‘Sure.’
He was lounging on her desk again and she had to step over his long legs to get past.
In the luxurious bathrooms of Kargas Holdings, Cecelia stared in the mirror and told herself that in four weeks this slow torture would be over.
She retied her hair and topped up her lipstick and, unable to help herself, checked her phone to see if her aunt—or anyone—had messaged her for her birthday.
No.
As disappointing as it was about her aunt and uncle, the real truth was that Cecelia could think of nothing nicer than going out for dinner with Luka on her birthday.
Except this wasn’t a date—she was going out with her boss for a work dinner and Cecelia knew she would have to spend the next couple of hours constantly reminding herself of that fact.
When she came out, Luka was standing, waiting, and she felt his eyes on her as she retrieved her little bolero and put it on.
God, but he loathed it.
It was the colour of mustard and he’d far prefer to see her pale flesh. He would love to tell her just that, but with Cecelia he was constantly on his best behaviour.
‘Ready?’ he checked, and she nodded.
‘Ready.’
His driver delivered them to a gorgeous Greek restaurant on the river that had recently opened.
‘Time to check out the competition,’ Luka said as they were led to a beautifully set table, but Luka refused it.
‘We’ll eat outside,’ he said.
They were soon seated at a beautiful spot overlooking the river.
‘The music would drive me crazy in there,’ Luka told her, though the real reason was that they had the air-conditioning cranked up and he wanted her to be rid of that cardigan.
What the hell was wrong with him, Luka thought, that he would sit outside just for the thrill of seeing her upper arms.
Her arms!
‘Here’s perfect,’ Cecelia said as she took her seat. ‘There’s a lovely breeze from the river.’
‘Of course there is,’ Luka said, but she didn’t understand his wry smile.
It certainly wasn’t the first time they had eaten together, although it wasn’t often that they did. When they travelled, Cecelia had taken to having her breakfast sent to her hotel room as she could not bear to see him breakfasting with whomever he was seeing at the time.
Often, when away, she and Luka had lunch together but generally there were guests or clients involved.
As for dinner?
She had no idea, neither did she want to know what Luka did by night and so, when away, and the working day had ended, she generally opted for room service.
Now she looked through the menu but could not concentrate for she was certain he would again try to dissuade her from leaving.
He didn’t, though, and instead he selected the wine.
‘What would you like?’
‘Not for me.’ Cecelia said.
‘Of course not.’ He rolled his eyes. Heaven forbid she relax in his company, but he asked for sparkling water.
She gave her order to the waiter, which, despite its fancy wording, was basically a tomato salad.
Luka ordered bourdeto.
She had seen it on the menu and read that it was made with scorpion.
Apt, for there would be a sting in his tail and she could feel it.
Oh, the surroundings were beautiful and the conversation polite but she could feel her own tension as she awaited attack. For Luka did not give in easily, that much she knew.
Life was a chessboard to him and every move was planned.
Now that his mother was ill, he had very good reasons to want an efficient PA, one capable of steering the helm while he was away.
Yes, she was braced, if not for attack then for the silk of his persuasion. But she must not relent, not now that she had finally had the courage to hand in her notice.
‘A taste of home,’ he said as their dishes were served.
‘Will it be nice to be there?’ Cecelia asked. ‘Aside from the difficult news, I mean.’
Luka just shrugged.
‘Will you be staying with your family?’ she asked. She wasn’t probing, she told herself, for there were arrangements to be made that would undoubtedly fall to her.
‘The resort is huge. They have a villa there but on the other side to mine.’
‘What’s it like in Xanero?’
‘The island is stunning.’
‘It’s still a family business?’ Cecelia checked.
‘Yes.’ It wasn’t an outright lie but there was so much he left unsaid.
‘Your father’s still the chef there?’
Luka didn’t answer straight away.
The truth was, his father had never been the chef there. Well, once, for the briefest of times.
It was all part of an elaborate charade that Luka went along with, only so that his mother could hold her head up in town.
‘He’s semi-retired,’ Luka said, and that wasn’t really a lie—Theo Kargas had spent his adult life semi-retired. Still, rather than talk about home he moved the subject to the upcoming weeks. Not everything had been cancelled. Luka would be working online and there was a trip to Athens he would keep. It was doable yet it was complex as Luka was booked out weeks and months ahead of time, so there was never much room for manoeuvre.
‘I’ll tell Garcia that the trip to New York will have to wait.’
‘He won’t like it.’
‘Good,’ Luka said. ‘You know what they say about treating them mean to keep them keen. He needs me far more than I need him, yet he has started to forget that! Still, perhaps we can go when I return.’
‘Of course.’ Cecelia nodded. ‘When you know more how things are at home I’ll schedule it again. Hopefully by then your new PA will be on board and he or she can go along too.’
He didn’t like the sound of that.
Luka looked over to where she sat, sipping on sparking water with that mustard-coloured cardigan covering cream shoulders, and still he wondered what made her tick.
Cecelia intrigued him.
She was as cold as ice and so buttoned up and formal that, even though he knew she’d been engaged, he privately wondered if she was a virgin, for he simply could not imagine her in bed.
But on occasion he found himself imagining it anyway!
‘What happened to Gordon?’ Luka suddenly asked.
Her silence was a pointed one.
‘Come on,’ he said, ‘you’re leaving—I can ask now.’
‘I like to keep my private life private,’ Cecelia said, stabbing an olive with her fork.
‘I know you do,’ Luka said. ‘Come on, what happened?’
Cecelia hesitated.
Certainly she would not be telling Luka that at inappropriate times images of him had kept popping into her head! And neither would she tell him that she had thought herself content until he’d appeared in her life.
Instead, she told him a far safer version. ‘I decided that my aunt and uncle’s version of the perfect man for me didn’t fit mine.’
‘Your aunt and uncle?’ he checked, recalling that Cecelia’s aunt was her next of kin on her résumé.
‘I was raised by them after my mother died.’
‘How old were you then?’
‘Eight,’ Cecelia said through taut lips, for she was terribly uncomfortable with the subject, but Luka seemed very intent on finding things out tonight.
‘What about your father?’
She gave a slight shake of her head, which told him nothing other than the subject was out of bounds.
Not just with Luka.
She had never told anyone about the time she had come face to face with him.
He had dark hair and had worn a wedding ring.
That was all Cecelia knew. That and the fact he had shouted at her mother. When the money had run out, Harriet had called him to tell him he had a child, but it hadn’t produced the result her mother had obviously hoped for.
There had been no joyful greeting. His eyes had been furious when they had met hers, and Harriet had quickly sent her daughter to her room.
A lot of shouting had ensued and Cecelia had found out that her mother had once been given a considerable sum of money for... Cecelia had frowned when she heard a word that a seven-year-old Cecelia didn’t understand.
Termination.
Soon after, to her terrible distress, she found out what her father had meant.
‘I don’t want to talk about my father,’ she said to Luka.
‘Fine.’ He shrugged and then gave that wicked smile. ‘Tell me more about your fiancé, then.’
‘Ex,’ she pointed out.
‘That’s right.’
