by Penny Jordan
‘What’s in them?’ He peered at her lunch and selected the smoked salmon and cream cheese without a word, but Emma was used to him now, and the second he slammed the door of his office she opened her drawer and pulled out her own smoked salmon and cream cheese sandwiches, smiling at her own foresight as she picked up the phone.
She wasn’t smiling now—the sandwich like sawdust in her mouth as she faced a new challenge, wondering if she should ring Evelyn and check, completely unsure what to do.
‘Luca…’ she swallowed the mouthful of water she had quickly taken ‘…it’s your mother on the phone.’
‘I’ll call her later,’ came the curt reply.
Which she relayed, to no avail.
‘Luca…’ She felt as if she were pressing the demolition button as she pressed the intercom again.
‘What?’
‘She’s crying. I don’t know if something’s happened…’
When he swore in Italian, Emma held her breath, hardly letting it out when she saw the red light on and realised he had taken the call, wondering if she had done the right thing. The thick door to his office meant she could hear nothing and Emma paced up and down, staring at the red light, knowing they were talking, wondering if she should go in and apologise afterwards, berating herself for not checking with Evelyn what she should do in these circumstances. And then, after an interminable time, the red light went off.
She waited a moment for his angry summons but, worse than that, there was only silence and a closed door.
She knocked—as he insisted she did.
And knocked again, ignoring that he didn’t answer—deciding to ‘practise some of the assertion this job demands’. Taking a deep breath, she walked in. Afterwards, she fervently wished she hadn’t, but by then it was already too late.
* * *
He couldn’t stand it—he just couldn’t stand it!
For weeks Daniela had been ringing, every day, then every hour, and now and then his mother too.
And now had come the tears.
The pleading.
‘Familia, Luca.’
He hated familia!
‘Just this—all I ask of you, all I have done for you, all I have suffered for you!’
For him?
Always his mother twisted things—and she was twisting them now, telling him she had suffered for him, that she had taken the beatings, the hell, the agony—for him.
And now, supposedly, he had to repay the favour.
He hated this!
There was a rip of anger in him, this fury that sixteen years living away from home had only slightly dimmed, because it was always there, churning beneath the surface. His vast office was tiny, too small to contain his fury, his loathing, his hate.
Then he became distantly aware that his mobile was ringing.
Ma.
Ma.
Ma.
He picked the mobile up and threw it across the room—but still it rang.
He picked up his landline phone and tossed that too.
Ah, but soon would come the emails…
So with one swoop he cleared his entire desk of its contents, the computer, papers, his lamp, his coffee, everything, crashing in one swoop, a smash of glass and chaos, with no relief, no reprieve because Emma walked in.
‘Out!’
He roared it at her, but she just stood there, frozen.
‘Get out now!’ Except she didn’t, just stood there eyes wide in shock and then, worse, with tears in them…refusing to leave, refusing to go. So he stormed out of his office and on to the lift, pounded on the button and then gave in, resting his head on his forearm and dragging in air.
He would explain.
He must explain.
He hadn’t wanted her to see him like that…
Luca turned and walked back, calmer now, together now, and then he saw her.
Kneeling on the floor, crying and scared and shaking, picking up the lamp, retrieving shards of glass—trying to clear up the chaos so that it might appear to have never happened.
It could have been his mother twenty years ago—only this time it was he who had caused the chaos, and he who had reduced Emma to frightened tears.
‘I’m sorry!’ Her voice was shaky as she took the blame, and that was what almost killed Luca. ‘I should never have put her through to you.’
It almost killed him, because Luca realised with a dread that had been building for years now—he was turning into his father.
CHAPTER FIVE
EMMA had grown up with men long enough to refuse to tiptoe around them—oh, she steered clear of Luca for a while and when Evelyn came back a new lamp was purchased, a few items replaced, and supposedly it had never happened.
Except it had.
Yet she refused to be silenced.
Refused to dance around him and refused not to question him when a ridiculous plan made itself known.
‘Can you tell me why I’m booked to attend your sister’s wedding?’ Emma struggled to keep her voice even—after all, this was her boss and this had to be a mistake, but she wasn’t going to take this!
It was six p.m. and Emma had spent the last two hours with Luca’s travel team, working out the logistics of his impossible schedule for the upcoming fortnight, only to see her name appear on the flight list for Palermo and the transfer helicopter to his village. Worse than that, she’d had to suffer the thinly veiled smirk on the travel team manager’s face when she’d asked why the hotel hadn’t yet been booked.
There were no hotels in the village!
‘Oh!’ Luca had at least the grace to wince. ‘I’ve been meaning to tell you…’ Luca could read women as easily as a newspaper and as her eyes widened at his choice of words, he quickly corrected himself. ‘I mean, ask you.’
‘Ask me what?’ she asked through gritted teeth.
‘You know my sister is getting married soon.’
‘Is she really?’ Emma feigned surprise. After all, she was the one co-ordinating the lavish wedding gift—a pool, and not just any pool, an infinity pool cut into the edge of the volcanic rock no less. And she was the one who had been dealing with the Sicilian foreman and the architect and the insurance company, the tie selection people, the sister and the mother, not to mention Luca’s appalling mood! Oh, yes, she knew his sister was getting married!
‘Please,’ Luca said. ‘Sarcasm doesn’t suit you.’ He frowned for a moment, then added, ‘Actually, it does—but not now. I need some help over the weekend. It’s a bit hard to explain…’
She gave a tiny shake of her head. Luca never found things hard to explain—the Luca she knew always just came out and said what he meant.
‘Well, I can’t help. I actually have plans that weekend,’ Emma said, her voice still even and calm. She didn’t actually—even though it was her birthday, she’d made no plans other than visiting her father, but she certainly wasn’t going to let Luca know that. ‘And I know my job is varied, but playing the part of wedding planner is really out of my league.’
‘The wedding is all taken care of.’
‘So what do you need me for?’
‘It would make things easier, to have someone there with me,’ he admitted.
‘You mean with you?’ She was really shaking her head now. ‘No, Luca, absolutely not. You could ask anyone…’
‘But you’re not going to go and get any stupid ideas,’ Luca said. ‘Emma, you understand me. The last woman I brought home…’ He gave a small swallow before he named her. ‘Martha. I explained to her not to get swept away, that my family would assume we were serious, that they would think that there was a wedding imminent. She assured me she understood, except when we got there…’
‘Things changed?’
Luca nodded. ‘I can’t face going; I can’t stand the thought of being in the same house for two, maybe three nights on my own.’ He looked at her then, at her dark curls bobbing, at the mouth that could always somehow make him laugh, at the body he thought of at night n
ow. This was the one way he could do it—with the one woman who could make hell bearable right now beside him.
Even if it meant he would soon have to say goodbye to her…
‘I thought that with you there…’
‘Did you really think I’d say yes?’ Emma demanded. ‘Well, obviously you did if the travel team already know about it.’
‘I was going to speak to you later this afternoon. I didn’t realise the meeting had been brought forward.’
‘Well, the answer would have been the same—no!’
‘You’re making this a bigger deal than it is!’ he protested.
‘It’s a very big deal to me! Anyway, there are any number of women who would be more than happy to accommodate you. Ask one of them.’
‘My father’s ill!’ He played the sympathy card, but Emma just gave him a wide-eyed look.
‘So is mine—but I’m not asking you to share a bed with me,’ she retorted.
‘He has just a couple of months to live,’ Luca revealed.
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Emma responded, ‘but I can’t help. Look…’ she was irritated now. More than irritated, she was angry at his assumption that he could just go ahead and organise something like this without even consulting her. ‘I’m sorry he’s ill, but—’
‘I’m not sorry he’s ill, Emma,’ he interrupted her, his voice dark. ‘I hate my father—really, the end cannot come soon enough. My mother has asked, pleaded that I come, that for one final time we put on the D’Amato show…’
‘The D’Amato show?’ Emma frowned, but Luca didn’t elaborate.
‘I cannot face it.’ She’d never heard him anything other than assured and the plea for understanding in his voice momentarily swayed her. ‘I’m asking you because I know you get it…’
‘Get what?’
‘Me!’ For the first time he looked uncomfortable. ‘I have no interest in marriage, no interest in settling down—not ever. You understand…’ he gave an irritated shrug ‘…that this would be strictly business.’
‘Sharing your bed isn’t my idea of business!’
‘You’d be well remunerated…’ He took in her furious expression and hastily added, ‘We could just say you’re my girlfriend—I’m not asking for sex!’
‘Just as well, because I absolutely do not fancy you!’ Emma turned to go, her face burning. She’d heard enough, lied enough but she hadn’t actually said enough. She turned back. ‘You’re right, Luca—I do get you. And, yes, I get your good looks and your sentiments where women are concerned. I get that you have no desire to settle down and that women want more—I get it all. Well, enough to know that you rarely sleep alone, and no matter how you introduce me to your family or what you think may or may not happen between us while we’re away, but you and I, sharing a bed, well, it wouldn’t work!’
‘I think it would work rather well!’ he retaliated.
And just then there was a tiny shift, a brief moment when they were both imagining it, both thinking about it, both visiting the same place for a very dangerous second. She suddenly felt hot and bothered—partly, to be honest, because he simply oozed sexuality—and yet it wasn’t actually just about him and whether or not he deigned to lay a finger on her, whether or not he could keep to the spirit of any agreement they might come to.
It was also about the fact that she was twenty-four and had never had a relationship—sometimes she felt as if she was the last virgin around! Oh, she had made the excuse that she had been too busy looking after her father and in part that was true—but it was about more than that. She was far too guarded with her heart, far too mistrusting of men, and with Luca that was wise.
Except…
With Luca, at least she’d know where she stood from the very start.
He watched the small swallow in her throat, watched her cheeks dust pink.
And then she thought of his reaction when he found out she was a virgin—which snapped her mind away from the very dangerous place it had been dwelling.
‘The answer’s still no.’ Very firmly she said it.
‘Can I ask you to at least think about it?’ he pressed.
‘I already have and I’ve given my answer. I like working for you, Luca.’ She bared her teeth in a standoffish smile. ‘Let’s just keep things professional, shall we? If you’re able to!’ And with that, she walked out.
Which told him.
For the first time Luca was the one blushing—not that anyone would notice, but he could feel his ears burn just a touch as she dismissed him, put him in his place. Just as she always did, Luca realised as he sat, smarting, at his desk. Unused to rejection, it didn’t sit well with him at all.
He could have anyone he wanted! With that thought, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through the list of contacts, looking at the names of the many beauties around the globe he could summon right now, this very minute—only recently none had really appealed.
Emma did.
He sat there for ages, thinking, going over and over it in his mind, as the office darkened.
Emma could get him through these next few weeks—the wedding, the last stages of his father’s illness. How much more bearable it would be with Emma around… And why did it only have to be for just a few weeks? He had no qualms that they would get on—despite her protests, he knew she was attracted to him.
So why would it have to end so soon? Maybe it could be a few months, or even as much as a year…
He went to turn on the desk lamp, but though Evelyn had managed a close replica, the cord was on the other side, and in that second, as he reached for thin air, Luca was reminded why a relationship with Emma could never last even as long as that.
He pulled up a document on screen.
Position Vacant
Assistant PA
He read the guidelines and then added a few more words.
‘Fluent Japanese essential.’
Save the changes?
Emma knocked and he called her in. ‘I just need a file, if that’s okay…’
‘Sure.’
‘I brought you coffee.’ She didn’t appear in the least uncomfortable when she came in and placed his strong brew on his desk. In her own way, Luca realised, she was setting the tone, heading over to the filing cabinet and carrying on efficiently, as if their previous conversation had never happened.
She was absolutely gorgeous, Luca mused. Her hair was working its way out of its low ponytail, dark curls dancing around her face, and he sat watching her thin jumper strain over her generous breasts as she pulled over the foot ladder and still had to stretch to reach the top file.
She had a fantastic bottom.
Round and curvy and soft.
What was this fascination with Emma?
She was nothing like the women he usually dated—he usually liked his women trim and groomed to within an inch of their lives and preferably without an opinion.
Emma had an opinion on everything.
‘Go home,’ he said, irritated with himself now. He just wanted the temptation of her out of there.
‘Oh!’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Are you sure?’
‘It’s your art class tonight, isn’t it?’
She’d missed the last two weeks, and Emma was touched that he’d noticed. ‘Is there anything else you need before I go?’
He chose not to answer that one.
He’d get to that soon enough.
CHAPTER SIX
‘EMMA!’
There were many ways Luca said her name, and with his rich Italian accent the first couple of thousand times he had made her rather plain name sound vaguely exotic.
Just not any more.
This was a short brusque ‘Emma’ that came over her intercom and jolted her out of the notes she was compiling, a clipped order that he wanted her to come into his office now.
She had a nine a.m. meeting with HR that she had to be at in a five minutes—a meeting about which he would want a full written report on his desk by lunchtime,
with question time after, no doubt. She was tempted to ignore his summons, let him think that she had already left.
‘Emma!’ The voice was just as curt, only this time it came not from the intercom but from the man himself—clearly she hadn’t responded within the requisite two seconds.
‘Didn’t you hear me?’
‘I was just coming,’ Emma said calmly.
It had been a week since Luca had put forward his ridiculous proposition—and though he’d had the good sense not to broach it again, the mood between them wasn’t great.
He wasn’t sulking exactly but, as Emma had demanded, things were strictly business-like and the chatter and banter had gone—and she missed it. Working such ridiculous hours, he consumed a large part of her day, and she missed that side of him, that was all.
‘I need you to set up a meeting with Mr Hirosiko. I need all the latest figures…’
Luca had recently set his giddy sights on Japan—a difficult market to break into for an outsider, only Luca had seen it as a challenge, zipping through a refresher course of the language, instructing Emma and Evelyn to learn it too, and when Luca focused, he really focused. Not only did he brush up on etiquette skills but he was suddenly into kaiseki ryori, or Japanese haute cuisine, his restless mind constantly seeking challenges, new interests. He never tired; instead, he just absorbed the new energy and expanded, moving on to the next challenge while retaining the old.
‘Set up the meeting room for a face-to-face.’ He snapped his fingers as he tried to recall some small detail from his busy, brilliant mind. ‘There is something I need to address with him first…’
‘It was his mother’s funeral last week,’ Emma responded. She knew because she had arranged the flowers and condolences that had been sent on behalf of D’Amato Financiers.
‘That’s right.’ He nodded brief thanks—he would start the difficult meeting with some friendly conversation, before heading for the jugular. It wasn’t actually a tactic, Emma had realised after a few weeks of working for him. Luca could separate the business side of things from the social with alarming ease—his condolences would be genuine, his sympathy real, but when it came down to business there would be no concessions or momentary reprieves—which was why D’Amato Financiers were not just surviving but thriving. Luca dealt in money, serious money—his own and other people’s—and, eternally vigilant, he pre-empted things with skill and ease.
