New Arrivals: One Secret Child: Mistress, Mother...Wife? / Wealthy Australian, Secret Son / Her Prince's Secret Son. Margaret Way

       CHAPTER FOUR

      ANNA was struck dumb by Dante’s request. What should she do? If she agreed for him to come down to the flat, how to prepare him for her news when Tia was there, large as life, playing happily in the living room? There was no time to prepare for anything!

      ‘I’d love to talk to you—I really would—but—’

      ‘But?’

      She could imagine him sardonically curling his lip. He knew she was hedging. God, why couldn’t she be a better actress?

      ‘I’m making dinner at the moment. Why don’t we arrange to meet up tomorrow? You’re coming in to start working with Grant and Anita, aren’t you?’

      ‘I think I’d rather come and talk to you right now, Anna. I’ll be with you in about five minutes.’

      He put down the phone. Anna was left staring at the receiver in her hand as if it was a grenade she’d just pulled the pin from.

      ‘Tia, we’re going to have a visitor in a minute. We’ll have dinner after he’s gone, okay?’

      She sped round the compact living room, sweeping up strewn toys into her arms like a whirlwind, then throwing them onto the end of the faded gold couch as if she was aiming to knock down coconuts at a carnival stall. When Dante arrived she would hide her emotions as best she could, she promised herself, yanking her oversized emerald sweater further down over her hips. Yes, she would hide behind her assistant manager’s mask—be unflustered and professional, as if she could totally handle whatever he cared to throw at her. No matter that she hadn’t been able to so much as look at another man since he’d left, because her heart had been irrevocably stolen by him.

      She didn’t have a hope of concealing her feelings behind a managerial mask under the circumstances. How could she?

      ‘Who’s coming to see us, Mummy?’ Feeling a tug on her trouser-leg, Anna’s gaze fell distractedly into her daughter’s. The child’s big blue-grey eyes—eyes, she realised with another frisson of shock, that were identical to her father’s—were avid with curiosity. ‘Is it Auntie Anita?’

      ‘No, darling. It’s not Auntie Anita.’ Chewing anxiously down on her lip, Anna forced herself to smile. ‘It’s a man called Dante Romano and—and he’s an old friend of mine.’

      ‘If he’s your friend, why haven’t I seen him before?’ Tia’s husky little voice was plaintive.

      ‘Because—’

      The knock on the hallway door just outside completely silenced whatever it was that Anna had been about to say. Rolling up her sweater sleeves, she reached for Tia’s hand and led her as calmly as she was able over to the couch, where she sat her down. Crouching in front of her, she tenderly stroked back some golden corkscrew curls from her forehead.

      ‘Don’t be nervous, will you? He’s—he’s a very nice man, and I’m sure he’ll be very pleased to meet you.’

      As she hurried out into the hallway a surge of irrepressibly strong emotion made tears flood into her eyes. Not now! she moaned silently, wiping them away with the back of her hand. Why don’t you wait to hear what he has to say before you start crying?

      ‘Hi.’ His handsome smile was devastatingly confident, and Anna could scarcely contain the anger that suddenly rose up inside her, let alone analyse it.

      ‘Hello,’ she murmured in reply, praying he wouldn’t see the evidence of her tears. ‘Come in.’

      Had he called at a bad time? Dante speculated. Her beautiful brown eyes appeared slightly moist. He guessed she would rather have put off his visit until tomorrow, but the fact of the matter was he couldn’t wait until then to see her and talk to her again. Ever since Anna had walked into that office he’d ached to get her alone, find out what she’d been doing all these years… maybe even ask if she’d ever thought about him since that extraordinary night they’d spent together.

      Folding her arms, she stood squarely in front of him, leaving him with the distinct notion he wasn’t going to be invited in any farther. Fighting down the sense of rejection that bubbled up inside him, he swept his glance hungrily over her pale oval face. The dazzling fire-lit brown eyes were wary, he noticed, and the softly shaped mouth that was barely glazed with some raspberry-coloured lipgloss was serious and unsmiling.

      ‘You said you wanted to talk…what about? ‘

      It wasn’t a very promising start. Apprehension flooded into the pit of Dante’s stomach.

      ‘What a greeting. You make it sound like you’re expecting an interrogation.’ He shrugged, momentarily thrown off balance by her cool reception.

      ‘It’s just that I’m busy.’

      ‘Cooking, you said?’ He quirked a slightly mocking eyebrow and sniffed the air.

      ‘Look… how do you expect me to greet you after all this time? The truth is you’re the last person I ever expected to see again! For you to show up now, because you’re the new investor in the Mirabelle, is obviously a shock…a shock that I was totally unprepared for.’ Pursing her lips, she was clearly distressed. ‘I don’t know how to put this any other way, Mr Romano, and please don’t think me presumptuous, but I think that whatever else happens round here our relationship should remain strictly professional for as long as we have to work together.’

      ‘Why? Afraid you might be tempted to instigate a repeat performance of the last time we got together?’

      Stung by her aloof air, and the distance she seemed so eager to put between them, Dante said the first thing that entered his head. Trouble was, he’d be lying if he said the thought of them being intimate hadn’t crossed his mind. It was practically all he’d been dwelling on since setting eyes on her.

      Blushing hard, Anna gazed down at the floor. When she glanced up at him again her dark eyes were spilling over with fury.

      ‘What a hateful, arrogant thing to say! Bad enough that you only thought me good enough for a one-night stand, but to come here now and assume that I—that I would even—’ She gulped in a deep breath to calm herself. ‘Some of us have moved on.’

      Dante nodded, sensing a muscle flex hard in the side of his cheek. ‘And you have moved on, haven’t you, Anna? Assistant Manager, no less.’

      ‘If you’re suggesting I got the position by any other means than by damned hard work then you can just turn around and leave right now. I certainly don’t intend to meekly stand here while you mock and insult me!’

      His lips twitched into a smile. He couldn’t help it. Did she have any idea how sexy she was when she was angry? With that fiery-red hair spilling over her shoulders and those dark eyes flashing. it would test the libidinous mettle of any red-blooded heterosexual male. To Dante it felt as if a lighted match had been dropped into his blood, and it had ignited as though it were petrol.

      ‘I didn’t come here to insult you, Anna. I merely wanted to see you again in private…that’s all.’

      ‘I heard you shouting, Mummy.’

      A little girl with the prettiest corkscrew blond curls Dante had ever seen suddenly emerged from a room along the hall. Deep shock scissored through him. She’d addressed Anna as ‘Mummy’.

      Definitely flustered, Anna ran her fingers over the child’s softly wayward hair, captured a small hand in hers and squeezed it.

      ‘Tia…this