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CHAPTER THREE

LUCA DRUMMED HIS fingers against his thigh as the limo pulled up in front of Hannah’s house. He’d been there less than twelve hours ago, dropping her off after their shopping and meal. He’d been strangely disquieted to have a tiny glimpse into her life—the narrow hall with its clutter of coats and boots, the sound of a woman’s voice. Her mother? Why did he care?

Perhaps because since he’d met her he’d viewed Hannah Stewart as nothing more than a means to his own end. First as his PA, efficient and capable, and now as his stand-in wife-to-be. Last night he’d realised that if this ridiculous charade was going to work, he needed to know more about Hannah. And he hadn’t learned much, but what he had discovered was that getting to know Hannah even a little bit made him feel guilty for using her.

Sighing impatiently at his own pointless thoughts, Luca opened the door to the limo and stepped out into the street. It wasn’t as if he was making Hannah’s life difficult. She was getting a luxurious weekend on a Mediterranean island, all expenses paid. And if she had to play-act a bit, what was the big deal? He’d make it worth her while.

He pressed the doorbell, and Hannah answered the door almost immediately. She wore her usual work outfit of a dark pencil skirt and a pale silk blouse, this time grey and pink. Pearls at her throat and ears and low black heels complemented the outfit. There was nothing wrong with it, but it wasn’t what his fiancée would be wearing to accompany him on a weekend house party. She looked like a PA, not a woman in love on a holiday.

‘What happened to the outfits I bought you yesterday?’ Luca demanded.

‘Hello to you too,’ Hannah answered. ‘I’m saving them for when I’m actually on Santa Nicola.’ She arched an eyebrow. ‘Being on the aeroplane isn’t part of the social occasion, is it?’

‘Of course not.’ Luca knew he couldn’t actually fault Hannah. She was acting in accordance to the brief he had given her. He’d tell her the truth soon enough...when there was no chance of anything going wrong. Nothing could risk his plan for this weekend. ‘Are you packed?’

‘Of course.’ She reached for her suitcase but Luca took it first. ‘I’ll put it in the boot.’

‘Hello, Mr Moretti.’ An older woman with faded eyes and grey, bobbed hair emerged from behind Hannah to give him a tentative smile.

‘Good morning.’ Belatedly Luca realised how snappish he must have sounded when talking to Hannah. This whole experience was making him lose his cool, his control. He forced as charming a smile as he could and extended his hand to the woman who took it.

‘I’m Diane Stewart, Hannah’s mother—’

‘Lovely to meet you.’

‘I should go, Mum,’ Hannah said. She slipped on a black wool coat, lifting her neat ponytail away from the collar. Luca had a sudden, unsettling glimpse of the nape of her neck, the skin pale, the tiny hairs golden and curling.

‘I’ll say goodbye to Jamie for you,’ Diane promised and Luca looked sharply at Hannah, who flushed.

Jamie—a boyfriend? Clearly someone close to her. Although maybe Jamie was a girl’s name. A friend? A sister?

‘Thanks, Mum,’ she muttered, and quickly hugged her mother before walking towards the limo.

Luca handed the suitcase to his driver before getting in the back with Hannah. She was sitting close to the window, her face turned towards the glass.

‘Do you live with your mother?’ he asked.

‘No, she just stayed the night because I was so late getting home.’

‘Why was she there at all?’

She gave him a quick, quelling look. ‘She’s visiting.’

Hannah Stewart seemed as private as he was. Luca settled back in the seat. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve cut your visit short.’ He paused. ‘You could have told me she was visiting. I would have made allowances.’

Hannah’s look of disbelief was rather eloquent. Luca felt a dart of annoyance, which was unreasonable since he knew he wouldn’t have made allowances. He needed Hannah’s attendance this weekend too much. Still he defended himself. ‘I’m not that unreasonable an employer.’

‘I never said you were.’

Which was true. But he felt nettled anyway, as if he’d done something wrong. It was that damned guilt, for tricking her into this. He didn’t like lying. He’d always played a straight bat, prided himself on his plain dealing. He’d lived with too many lies to act otherwise. But this was different, this was decades-deep, right down to his soul, and his revenge on Andrew Tyson was far more important than his PA’s tender feelings. Feeling better for that reminder, Luca reached for his smartphone and started scrolling through messages.

* * *

Hannah sat back in her seat, glad to have that awkward goodbye scene over with. Luca had been surprisingly curious about her life, and she’d thankfully managed to deflect his questions. She’d never told her boss about her son, and she wanted to keep it that way. She knew instinctively that Luca Moretti would not take kindly to his PA having such an obligation of responsibility, no matter what he said about allowances. She was fortunate that her mother lived nearby and had always been happy to help out. Without Diane’s help, Hannah never would have been able to take the job as Luca Moretti’s PA. She certainly wouldn’t have been able to perform it with the same level of capability.

Now she tried to banish all the thoughts and worries that had kept her up last night as she’d wondered what she was getting into, and if she was doing the right thing in leaving her son for two days. She wanted to stop wondering if she was coming across as gauche as she felt, or why her normally taciturn boss was suddenly turning his narrow-eyed attention to her.

No, today she’d told herself she was going to simply enjoy everything that came her way, whether it was champagne and caviar or a first-class plane ticket. This was an adventure, and she’d got out of the habit of enjoying or even looking for adventures. Since she’d had Jamie her life had become predictable and safe, which wasn’t a bad thing but sometimes it was boring. She realised she was actually looking forward to a little bit of a shake-up.

‘You’re smiling,’ Luca observed and, startled, Hannah refocused her gaze on her boss. He’d been watching her, she realised with a lurch of alarm. Or maybe it was simply awareness that she felt. A tingling spread through her body as his gaze remained resting on her, his mahogany-brown eyes crinkled at the corners, a faint smile tugging at his own mobile mouth. He wore a navy blue suit she’d probably seen before, with a crisp white shirt and silver-grey tie. Standard business wear, elegant and expensive, the suit cut perfectly to his broad shoulders and trim hips. Why was she noticing it today? Why was she feeling so aware?

‘I was just thinking about flying first class,’ she said.

‘Ah yes. Something else you haven’t done before.’

‘No, and I’m looking forward to it.’ She smiled wryly. ‘I’m sure it’s same old, same old for you.’

‘It’s refreshing to see someone experience something for the first time.’ His mouth curved in a deeper smile, the look in his eyes disconcertingly warm. ‘Tickly or not.’

She lifted her chin, fighting a flush. ‘I admit, I’m not very experienced in the ways of the world.’

‘Why aren’t you?’

‘Maybe because I’m not a millionaire?’ Hannah returned dryly. ‘Most people don’t travel first class, you know.’

‘I’m well aware. But plenty of people have tasted champagne.’ He cocked his head, his warm gaze turning thoughtful. ‘You seem to have missed out a bit on life, Hannah.’

Which was all too perceptive of him. And even though she knew it was true, it still stung. ‘I’ve been working,’ she replied with a shrug. ‘And I have responsibilities...’ She left it at that but Luca’s eyes had narrowed.

‘What kind of responsibilities?’

‘Family,’ she hedged. ‘Nothing that interferes with my work,’ she defended and he nodded, hands spread palm upward.

‘As well I know. I do appreciate you coming for the weekend.’

‘I didn’t think I really had much choice,’ Hannah returned, then drew an even breath. ‘Why don’t you tell me more about this weekend? You said it was a social occasion? How so?’

The warmth left Luca’s eyes and Hannah felt tension steal into his body even though he’d barely moved. ‘Andrew Tyson is a family man,’ he stated. ‘Wife, two children, resorts dedicated to providing people with the ultimate family experience.’

‘Yes, I did some research on them when I was booking your travel,’ Hannah recalled. ‘“A Tyson Holiday is a memory for ever,”’ she quoted and Luca grimaced.

‘Right.’

‘You don’t like the idea?’

‘Not particularly.’

She shouldn’t have been surprised. Luca Moretti had never struck her as the wife-and-kids type, which was why she’d kept her own son secret from him. He was never short of female company, though, and none of them lasted very long. A week at the most. ‘Why are you going after these resorts if you don’t really like the idea behind them?’

‘I don’t make business decisions based on personal preferences,’ Luca answered shortly. One hand closed in a fist on his powerful thigh and he straightened it out slowly, deliberately, his palm flat on his leg, his fingers, long and tapered, stretching towards his knee. ‘I make business decisions based on what is financially sound and potentially profitable.’

‘But Andrew Tyson only has a handful of resorts, doesn’t he? The Santa Nicola resort, one on Tenerife, one on Kos, one on—’

‘Sicily, and then a couple in the Caribbean. Yes.’

‘It’s small potatoes to a man like you,’ Hannah pointed out. Luca had orchestrated multibillion-dollar deals all around the world. A couple of family resorts, especially ones that looked as if they needed a bit of updating, hardly seemed his sort of thing.

Luca shifted in his seat. ‘As I told you before, the land alone makes this a lucrative deal.’

‘Okay, but you still haven’t told me why this is a social occasion.’

‘Because Tyson wants it to be one. He’s always espoused family values, and so he wants each potential owner to socialise with him and his family.’

‘So chatting up little kids?’ Hannah couldn’t quite keep the note of amusement from her voice. ‘It sounds like your worst nightmare.’

‘His children are grown up,’ Luca answered. ‘The son is only a year younger than I am.’

‘Do his children have children?’

‘I have no idea.’ Luca sounded eminently bored. ‘Probably. The son is married.’

Hannah considered the implications of everything he’d just said. So she’d be socialising with Andrew Tyson and his family, chatting up his children and generally being friendly? She was starting to realise why Luca had wanted her to come along.

‘So you want me to be your front man,’ she said slowly.

Luca swivelled to face her. ‘Excuse me?’

‘To do the talking,’ Hannah explained. ‘Chatting to his wife and children while you get on with the business side of things. Right?’

He gave one terse nod. ‘Right.’

She settled back in her seat. ‘All right. I can do that.’

‘Good,’ Luca answered, and he turned back to his phone.

The VIP lounge at the airport fully lived up to Hannah’s expectations. She enjoyed the plush seats, the complimentary mimosas and breakfast buffet, and when Luca suggested she take advantage of the adjoining spa and get a manicure and pedicure, she decided to go for it. Why not enjoy all the opportunities that were on offer? It wasn’t as if she had many chances to relax in a spa.

By the time they boarded the plane she was feeling pleasantly relaxed; one of the spa attendants had given her a head and neck massage while her feet had been soaking. It had felt lovely, as had Luca’s look of blatant male appreciation when she’d emerged from the spa—the attendant had insisted on doing her hair and make-up as well.

‘You look good,’ he said in approval, and, while Hannah knew she shouldn’t care what Luca thought of her looks, his masculine admiration spoke to the feminine heart of her.

‘I think,’ she told him as they took their seats in the plane’s first-class section, ‘I could get used to this.’

Luca’s mouth quirked up at one corner. ‘I’m sure you could.’ He accepted two flutes of champagne from the airline steward and handed one to Hannah. ‘And now you should get used to this.’

‘Why are you so determined to have me become used to champagne?’ Hannah asked as she took a sip. Second time round the bubbles didn’t tickle her nose quite so much.

‘Why not? You should enjoy all of these new experiences.’

‘True,’ Hannah answered. ‘And since you said this was a social occasion, I might as well.’ She took another sip of champagne. ‘Are we meant to be working during the flight?’

‘No.’

‘So why did you put me up in first class?’

‘I wanted to watch you enjoy the experience.’

Hannah felt her stomach dip at this implication of his words, the intimacy of them. She was suddenly conscious of how this all seemed: the champagne flute dangling from her fingers, the cosy enclave of their first-class seats, and Luca Moretti lounging next to her, not taking his warm gaze from hers. She swallowed hard.

‘Well, I am enjoying it,’ she said, striving for normality. ‘Thank you.’ The last thing she needed was to start crushing on her boss. He’d probably find that amusing—or maybe offensive, and fire her. She handed her half-drunk champagne to the steward and buckled her seat belt. Time to get things back to the way they’d always been.

Luca must have been thinking along the same lines because he reached for the in-flight magazine as the plane took off, and then spent the rest of the four-hour flight looking over some paperwork. Hannah asked him once if he needed her to do anything, and he snapped at her that he didn’t.

In fact, with each passing hour of the flight, he seemed to get more and more tense, his muscles taut, his eyes shadowed, his face grim. Hannah wondered what was going on, but she didn’t dare ask.

She tried to watch a movie but her mind was pinging all over the place, and so she ended up simply staring out of the window at the azure sky, waiting for the minutes and hours to pass.

And then they did, and they landed on Santa Nicola, the Mediterranean glittering like a bright blue promise in the distance.

‘Is someone meeting us at the airport?’

‘Yes, one of Tyson’s staff is picking us up.’ Luca rose from his seat and shrugged into his suit jacket. ‘Let me do the talking.’

Okay... ‘I thought you wanted me to socialise.’

‘I do. But not with the staff.’

Bewildered, Hannah stared at him, but Luca’s deliberately bland expression gave nothing away. He held a hand out to her to help her from her seat, and after a second’s hesitation she took it.

The feel of his warm, dry palm sliding across and then enfolding hers was a jolt to her system, like missing the last step in a staircase. Instinctively she started to withdraw her hand but Luca tightened his hands over hers and pulled her forward.

‘Come on,’ he murmured. ‘People are waiting.’

With his hand still encasing hers she followed him out of the plane, blinking in the bright sunlight as she navigated the narrow steps down to the tarmac. She was just thinking that she wished she’d packed her sunglasses in her carry-on rather than her suitcase when she heard someone call a greeting to Luca and then felt his arm snake around her waist.

Hannah went rigid in shock at the feel of his fingers splayed on one hip, her other hip pressed against his thigh.

‘Signor Moretti! We are so pleased to welcome you to Santa Nicola.’ A tanned, friendly-looking man in khaki shorts and a red polo shirt with the Tyson logo on the breast pocket came striding towards them. ‘And this is...?’ he asked, glancing at Hannah with a smile.

‘Hannah Stewart,’ Luca filled in smoothly, his arm still firmly about her waist. ‘My fiancée.’