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At the time, the only reason he had guessed her engagement was over had been the lack of a ring and the absence of his calls. There had been no tears from Cecelia or days off and no impact on her efficiency that he’d been able to see.
‘Was it you who ended it?’
Cecelia gave a terse nod.
‘How did he take it?’
‘Luka!’ she warned.
‘I’m just curious. I’ve never been with anyone long enough to be engaged. I can’t imagine getting that close to someone.’ His eyes narrowed a little as he looked at her, still trying, as he had been since the day they had met, to gauge her. ‘Was there someone else involved? Is that why you ended it?’
‘Of course not,’ she bristled.
‘Did you live together?’
‘I really don’t want to discuss my private life,’ Cecelia said. ‘You don’t.’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘No, Luka, you don’t. I might deal with your exes but I know nothing about you—’
‘That’s not true.’
‘How long has your mother been ill?’
His jaw gritted and Cecelia gave a little smirk as she took a sip of her water.
‘Fair enough.’ He watched as she put down her glass and told her a truth. ‘I’m going to miss not getting to know you, though.’
She would miss him far more than he knew.
‘Is there anything I can do to dissuade you from leaving?’ he asked.
She looked up at his voice for his tone had surprised her. She had expected sulky, or manipulative, or for more money to be waved in front of her.
Instead he asked if there was anything he could do to keep her.
‘No.’ Cecelia said, and then she cleared her throat, for the word had come out huskily. ‘Luka, I will be here for another month and I will find the best replacement that I can. I’ll train her myself. It really has been an amazing year but I’m ready for a new challenge.’
‘So I’m no longer a challenge?’
‘Of course you are,’ Cecelia said.
He was actually a constant challenge to her senses—recklessness crept in whenever he was near, which Cecelia had to fight constantly just to keep it in check.
‘How was the bourdeto?’ Cecelia asked as his plate was removed unfinished.
Luka shrugged.
He had far more on his mind than food.
‘What if I promise to stop calling you Cece?’ he suggested. ‘It takes twenty-one days to form a habit.’
‘It actually takes sixty-six days,’ Cecelia corrected. ‘So there isn’t time for that. But thanks for offering.’ And then she smiled, something Cecelia so rarely did.
Rather, she rarely smiled properly, but now, as she did so, Luka watched as she checked herself midway and it dimmed.
For Luka, the fading of her smile felt like summer was ending.
It was, of course.
In a few weeks’ time summer would be gone.
Of course it would come around again, but this summer, this one, would never return.
‘Was Gordon upset when you finished with him?’ Luka asked. ‘And before you tell me that it’s private, I know it is.’
‘So why ask now?’
‘Because you’re the best PA I’ve ever had, and I didn’t want to push you into leaving by getting too personal, but now that you’ve already resigned I don’t have to behave.’
‘Yes, you do,’ Cecelia said, and though her voice remained even there was a flurry of nerves low in her stomach as to what her boldness today had unleashed.
So she answered the question.
‘Yes, he was upset, although, to be honest, I think he was more embarrassed than upset.’
‘No, I imagine he was very upset,’ Luka said in his deep, low voice, and met her eyes. Suddenly the cool breeze from the river felt like a warm one.
At times, Luka would disregard her professional boundaries and flirt with her.
Like now.
That little hint of his silken charm carried from his lips and sent a slow shiver the length of Cecelia’s spine.
‘I’d better get back to the office,’ Cecelia said, ‘and set up for your meeting.’
But he would prefer to linger.
The changing world was waiting and it was nice to be here by the river.
With her.
‘Garcia can wait,’ Luka said.
‘One day he might get tired of waiting.’
‘I doubt it,’ Luka said. ‘Right now he wants to wrap up the purchase.’
‘I thought you wanted a hotel in New York City.’
‘I do,’ Luka said, ‘but at a price of my choosing. Anyway, we need to talk about your replacement.’
‘I’ve informed the agency you generally use,’ Cecelia said, and Luka frowned.
‘You weren’t referred via them?’
‘No.’ Cecelia shook her head.
‘Ah, that’s right, you were working for Justin. How did you end up with him?’
‘Via the agency,’ Cecelia said, and she itched to get back and away from his gaze but Luka wasn’t letting her go just yet.
‘How did you become a PA?’
More questions, Cecelia thought, but this wasn’t such a personal one and so she was a little freer in her response. ‘I never intended to be. When I finished school I had wanted to travel,’ she told him, ‘or go to university, but...’ Cecelia hesitated. ‘My uncle had a friend who needed a nanny in France. I spoke French—well, a little—and he said that way I’d get to travel and work at the same time.’
‘The trust fund ran out, you mean.’
‘Sorry?’ Cecelia blinked.
‘They would have received money to raise you, but once you turned eighteen—’
‘No,’ Cecelia interrupted. ‘It wasn’t like that at all.’ She shook her head. ‘They were very good to take me in.’
‘Did they have children?’
‘No,’ Cecelia said, and she swallowed because she believed they had very much been childless by choice.
Luka’s comments needled for she had always felt rather in the way with her aunt and uncle, not that she’d admit it to him. ‘My uncle had a contact who needed a nanny.’
‘Really, Cece! You? A nanny?’
He could not imagine the very crisp and proper Cecelia working with children and he actually smiled at the very thought, parting those gorgeous lips to show his pearly white teeth.
Gosh, he had such a nice mouth.
‘I hated it,’ Cecelia admitted. ‘I lasted four weeks before I gave notice, but then the mother, a television producer, asked if I could work for her instead. I guess it all started from there.’
‘Do you still see your aunt and uncle?’
‘Of course,’ Cecelia said confidently, although inside she wavered for it had always been her making the effort rather than them.
They hadn’t so much as sent a text for her birthday.
Perhaps a card would have arrived in the mail when she got home.
Or there would be flowers on her doorstep.
Yet she knew there wouldn’t be.
Her birthday had passed by unnoticed again and it hurt.
She would not let Luka see it, of course, but his comment about the trust-fund money drying up had perturbed her.
‘Do you want dessert?’ he asked, knowing the answer.
‘No, thank you.’
‘Tough,’ Luka said. ‘You’re getting one.’
She went to ask what he meant but at that moment the background music wafting out of the restaurant changed to a very familiar tune and she turned as she saw a waiter with a slice of cake and atop it a candle.
The tune was ‘Happy Birthday’!
And it was being played for her.
‘Luka...’
Cecelia was embarrassed.
Pleased.
And utterly caught by surprise.
No one remembered her birthday.
Ever.
As a child, it had fallen in the school holidays and her mother had only liked grown-up parties, certainly not the type Cecelia had dreamed of. And after she had died, Cecelia hadn’t readily made friends. In fact, at boarding school she had been endlessly teased and bullied.
At eighteen, her aunt and uncle had given up on the perfunctory birthday card and last-minute present, which had always, always been something she needed rather than something she might want.
This was the first time that she’d truly been spoiled on her birthday.
There were two spoons and the cake was completely delectable—vanilla sponge drizzled in thick lemon syrup that was both tart and refreshing.
And she was sharing dessert on her birthday with him.
Luka Kargas.
Cecelia was almost scared to look up for she was worried there might be tears in her eyes.
‘Here,’ Luka said, ‘is the other reason I came into the office today.’
Now Cecelia did look up as he went into his jacket and pulled out a gorgeous parcel and slid it across the table.
It was a long box wrapped in deep red velvet and tied with ribbon that had a little gold charm attached to it.
