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‘And for what exactly? A tumble in bed?’
‘No-holds-barred sex and nothing else. Your idea.’
‘The complete holiday package. Your idea.’
‘What, you’re saying the onboard entertainment officer needs to lift his game, that it?’
‘Absolutely.’ Vexed, wanting to hide the hurt, she rolled her eyes and turned away. ‘I shouldn’t stay here. I should go.’
There was a long silence.
‘Maybe you should,’ he said softly. ‘But you can’t, can you?’
‘No,’ she admitted. ‘Because, fool that I am, I still want you. I find it very difficult to say no to you. You look at me with those eyes, ask me with that voice and while my brain says one thing my mouth says another. Temptation, Luca.’ She looked at him. ‘You embody it.’
Brooding, almost black eyes dominated his face. ‘So do you, Emily.’ And then the smallest of smiles pulled his lips. ‘I think it’s good to take up temptation’s offer now and then. The chance doesn’t happen all that often.’
Not for her, no, but for him it must all the time. He was exceptionally attractive and there must be a list of women a mile long who’d like to be in her shoes right now. She hated the whole imaginary lot of them.
He sighed. ‘I’d forgotten the dinner party. I’ll go and tell Micaela now.’
Emily, smarting with insecurity, with the uncomfortable feeling that she’d had to force this little from him, saw a chance to strike back. ‘You’re going to land a dinner party on her at this late hour?’
He gave her a sideways look. ‘Micaela is well used to catering for me. She’s completely capable.’
‘You’re expecting her to serve for you?’
‘Of course. That’s her job.’
‘What about Marco?’
‘What about him?’ Luca looked mystified.
‘Who’ll look after him?’
‘Ricardo, of course. The child does have a father. Or don’t you think fathers are capable of looking after their offspring?’
Not all fathers, no. She winced. His hand lifted, a quick frown tightened his features, but she got in before he could open that can of worms any further.
‘I’m sure he’s perfectly capable, but I imagine you’ll have him off doing some other urgent business,’ she blustered.
‘Well, I’m not going to get him to drain the pool tonight, Emily,’ he said witheringly. ‘Look, Micaela and Ricardo have been working for me for years. I pay well above the standard rate and we’re all happy. I don’t think it’s something you need to worry about.’
‘Well, have you watched her trying to iron your damn sheets recently?’
‘What?’ At his stunned look she knew she had him.
‘Ironing your sheets. Of all the things—I mean, what sort of la-de-da request is that, oh, lord and master? The woman is swamped in them. What are they—king-size plus?’
‘Ironing my sheets?’
Emily nodded curtly as if it were the crime of the century. ‘Mountains of the things and she’s so pregnant.’
‘You’re right,’ he said briskly. ‘It’s a waste of time, especially while I have you around to rumple them anyway. I’ll take them off her list of “dos and don’ts”.’ Sarcasm all the way.
The victory was bitter and not nearly enough—they weren’t his sheets she was rumpling, were they? Not the ones on his bed in his private lair. And his arrogant assumption that she’d still be around to rumple them—even though she would—made her all the more irrationally angry. All the more determined to score a decent point.
‘You might own everything in sight, Luca, but that doesn’t give you the right to be so arrogant. Is this why you got divorced? Your wife couldn’t be bothered putting up with your attitude any more?’
‘I’m not divorced.’
‘What?’
He’d gone glacial, repeated the words slow and cold. ‘I’m not divorced.’
She stared at him. Not divorced? There was a wife somewhere? Harsh, sick anger rose in her chest—acrid, stinging bile burning its way up.
No wonder he didn’t want people knowing she was here. No wonder he didn’t want her sleeping in his own bed—her scent mixing with that of his absent wife? What, was she on holiday somewhere? Fury clouded her judgment, her logic.
She swore she saw guilt wisp across his face before the heat of anger chased it away. What had happened? Had she left him? He left her? Emily lost it at the thought of his infidelity—her every cell screamed in denial. Even though she knew he must have…he must…
Rage turned everything red. She opened her mouth to hurl the venom at him but he, as visibly irate as she, got in first.
‘She died.’ His lips barely moved as he ground out the answer.
It was a full minute before she moved. Even longer for him—rigid with the effort of containing high-running emotion.
Finally, Emily released a painful breath. Remorse, pity, despair exploded inside. Her eyes, her nose, stung as if she’d sucked in some poisonous gas.
‘Luca…’ Her voice caught. ‘I’m so sorry.’ Not just for his loss, but for her thoughts of just a few seconds ago—thoughts that she knew had been written all over her face. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Why would I?’
She flinched. That one hurt. Hard and unforgiving and a bitter reminder of her nothing status. Her vision fogged as she turned away. She heard him swear under his breath.
‘Emily—’
‘No, you’re right,’ she gabbled, walking to the door. ‘It’s none of my business.’
‘I’m sorry I snapped.’ He grabbed her arm. ‘I didn’t mean that.’ He held on hard and she had to stop walking. ‘It’s just that it was a really long time ago and I don’t like to think about it much. Or talk about it. Or anything. Much.’
She blinked. ‘I’m sorry too.’ She couldn’t look at him. ‘I shouldn’t have been so rude.’
‘Stay here. I’ll just have a word to Micaela.’
He stood just outside the door and called to Micaela. They yabbered for a few minutes; Emily understood nothing of what they said. But she understood so much more of him now: why he held her, and the rest of the world, at a distance. Not only had he buried his wife. He’d buried his heart with her.
He reappeared in the doorway. ‘Dinner will be at eight.’
‘I’m not going to be here, Luca.’
‘Yes, you are.’ He crossed the room and infiltrated her space enough to send her pulse crazy. Damn, rational thought was impossible when all the oxygen seemed to be sucked away in his presence. ‘We’re not done yet and you know it. You just admitted it. Besides—’ he inhaled deeply and seemed to force more lightness in his tone ‘—you’d be doing me a favour. In fact I’d really appreciate your company.’
‘Why?’ What was with this complete, and obviously concerted, change of heart?
‘There are a couple of people coming tonight. Pascal, who you spoke to, I’ve known for ages. He was my mentor—has a formidable knowledge of the markets and taught me everything. He’s also been happily married for the last fifty years. He wants the same for me and has taken it upon himself to find me a replacement wife. He always brings a possible candidate to dinner. This current one is a consultant with the London branch of his company. He’s brought her the last couple of times we’ve met up. Having you there will be a good shield.’
‘You want me to—’
‘Protect me from the unwanted advances of another woman—yes.’ His mouth made the movements of a smile but there was too much of an edge.
‘That’s ridiculous.’ It was ridiculous. As if he’d ever need that. He certainly didn’t want a replacement wife. He couldn’t have made that clearer to Emily, but that was the point, wasn’t it? She was his shield from another woman trying to get close and she was good protection because she already knew her place.
Suddenly she had no desire whatsoever to protect him now. She was hurt and she wanted him to open right up. And while he’d changed his mind about tonight, she didn’t have the lack of interest or the dignity to refuse—she wanted to know more before she left. She wanted to know everything. What had happened to his wife? How long was a long time ago? And what was this woman coming tonight like? Why did his old mentor think she’d be a good match for him? Emily’s emotions were all at sea and jealousy was the next to fly its flag.
‘Have you slept with her?’ She made no apology for the rudeness of her question. She just had to know.
‘No.’ His lips went firm.
‘Do you want to?’
‘No.’
Uh-huh. Consultants were bound to be beautiful and slim and well maintained as well as brilliant and she refused to believe the woman wouldn’t be interested in Luca. There wasn’t a woman alive who wouldn’t be interested in Luca.
His temper flashed again. ‘If I’d wanted to, I would have by now.’
By now she’d thought enough to be able to believe him. He was so determined to compartmentalise his life and he’d be too disciplined to blur the lines. Too hurt by the past?
He bent, glaring right in her eyes, and still felt the need to raise his voice and fire the words in her face. ‘This is the thing, Emily—I don’t screw around and I don’t cheat.’ His jaw was tight. ‘Eight p.m. Here. Wear something half-decent.’
Emily recoiled at the blunt instruction. It was as if he’d slapped her across the cheek and all her sympathy sank under the force of it. So he did think she’d embarrass him. Did she have no manners? No class? No decent clothes, obviously. And he didn’t take her out because she wasn’t good enough to be seen with.
For a second he stared at her, a beat of amazement in his eyes, before his frustration blew. A short, sharp, crude oath and he was gone. Three seconds later the house shook as the front door slammed.
CHAPTER NINE (#ulink_f8cec52d-acbd-5047-a933-c6092ac968d6)
EMILY counted to twenty and then went in search of grissini. She needed something she could snap her teeth on—to crunch away her anger and grind away her guilt, because right now she felt bucket-loads of both.
In the kitchen, Micaela was at the bench, restraint tightening her usually friendly face. As Emily went into the pantry she wondered just how much of that argument she’d heard. Heat scorched her cheeks. So yesterday she and Luca had been at it like rabbits mid-morning, and today they were yelling at each other. It couldn’t make for a pleasant working environment. But Micaela was busy making meal preparations and not looking her in the eye.
‘Where’s Marco?’ Another awful thought occurred to her—was the poor kid hiding in his cupboard under the stairs?
‘He’s at a neighbour’s playing today.’
Emily released another difficult breath, glad that he hadn’t been around to overhear them fighting. ‘I’m sorry if…I…er…’
Micaela put down the knife she was scoring tomatoes with and turned briskly to face her. ‘I want to tell you something. It is personal and I hope you don’t mind but I want to tell you.’ It was as if she’d been putting the words together in her head for the last five minutes and finally decided to launch forth.
Her grissini suspended mid-air, Emily wondered what the hell it was all about.
‘It’s difficult for us to get pregnant. We tried and tried for so long. But nothing. Then we found out that we needed help.’
Emily blinked. She didn’t know what she’d expected but it wasn’t that.
‘My family is all in Italy. We didn’t have much money and we had no one to turn to.’
Turn to for what? Emily couldn’t keep up with the speed of the subject.
Micaela’s eyes were dark and shiny and emotion wobbled her voice. ‘Luca gave us Marco and he gave us this baby.’
And for one moment, one awful, jealousy-ridden, rottenly hideous moment, Emily thought Micaela meant that Luca had fathered her children.
‘He gave us the money.’
Emily put the grissini down and sagged back against the bench. What was it with her and wrong conclusions today?
‘For treatment. For doctors.’
Thank heavens Micaela didn’t seem to have noticed her almost collapse, too busy getting all the details out.
‘We’ve been going to a private clinic for years. Thousands and thousands of pounds for treatment so we could try and try again—for as long as we wanted to. He said there was no limit. That it was up to us.’ She picked up the knife again, head bent as she sliced into the tomato. ‘He told us it was part of our health-insurance package as our employer. But it is directly from him.’
She directed a piercing gaze at Emily then, and all her caring and gratitude was evident in the way her eyes were watering and the fierce way she spoke. ‘He works too hard. He is too hard on himself. He is a good man. And he deserves…’
‘What?’ Emily prompted. No wonder they were so loyal to their employer, so happy to drop everything and come running when summoned. No wonder she ironed his damn sheets.
‘He deserves to be happy.’
Emily closed her eyes. Yes, he did. But didn’t everyone? Didn’t she too?
‘He should have the kind of happiness he’s given Ricardo and me.’
Love. Children. A family.
Now Emily felt worse, because it seemed that Luca had almost had that, only to lose it, and now he didn’t want it at all. And she, not realising, had taunted him.
She wished he’d told her before. She’d told him about her parents. But he’d had no intention of ever getting to know Emily well enough to have to bother. Only she’d made him. She rolled the breadstick back and forth on the bench. Thought about what Micaela had told her and why she had told her—because she wanted her to see the best of Luca? ‘How long have you worked for him?’
‘Almost eight years. He said I should stop when I got pregnant, but I like working. It keeps my mind off worrying.’
Emily understood. Wasn’t that what she’d done back home—kept herself busy as a way of burying her fears? And now her lips burned with questions about Luca’s past. But she couldn’t ask them. It would be prying and Micaela probably wouldn’t tell her anything anyway. She’d share her own personal story, but not that of her employer. Her loyalty was too strong and rightly so. Emily didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. Besides, she’d rather hear about it from Luca himself.
He was such a challenge to her—and now, with the mention of this woman tonight, she felt a streak of competitiveness too. She’d show him, and all of them, just how damn stylish she could be…
But something ‘half decent’? Her pack was filled with lightweight trousers and skirts and old tee shirts. Her wardrobe hadn’t been the priority for some time—like, ever. It was Kate who’d had her hair done, who had the fashionable clothes—as the singer centre stage she’d needed to. Emily, the accompanist, had only needed a black top and trousers so she wouldn’t stick out.
She looked at Micaela, at the way the Italian was still chic and gorgeous despite having a belly the size of an award-winning watermelon. Emily needed her kind of help. ‘Can you recommend a shop that sells nice clothes that aren’t too expensive? One that might have something suitable to wear to a dinner party?’
