Ruthless Revenge: Delicious Demand. Кейт Хьюит
James joked, an edge to his voice that made a frozen silence descend on the little group for a few seconds.
‘What’s your secret to a happy marriage, then, James?’ Simon asked, trying for jocular.
‘A limit-free credit card and no questions asked,’ James replied with a pointed look at his wife. Daniela pressed her lips together and said nothing.
Hardly a response of a family man, Hannah thought. James Garrison was a slick study, and looked to share Luca’s view on relationships.
‘I’ll take that on board,’ Luca answered in a tone that suggested he would do no such thing.
‘Falling for your PA isn’t like you, is it, Luca?’ James said, malice entering his ice-blue eyes. ‘I thought you made sure never to mix business and pleasure.’
‘As I said last night, this time it was impossible to resist.’ He glanced down at Hannah, who tilted her head up to look at him so their mouths were only a few inches apart. She felt her insides shudder even though she knew Luca was only play-acting. That simmering heat in his eyes might not have been real, but the response Hannah’s body gave certainly was. Her lips parted in helpless expectation, her whole being trained on Luca’s sleepy, hooded gaze.
‘Irresistible,’ he murmured, and then closed those scant inches separating them.
The feel of his mouth on hers was a complete surprise and yet also a sigh of relief and wonder. At last. Her mouth opened underneath his and Hannah clutched at his lapels, barely aware of what she was doing. Luca’s tongue swept into her mouth with sure possession, turning her insides weak and liquid. Her fingers tightened on his jacket.
‘No doubt that you two are heading for the altar,’ Simon joked, and Luca finally broke the kiss. Hannah sagged against him, her heart thudding, her mind spinning, her whole body feeling as if she’d been lit up inside like a firework.
‘Like I said,’ Luca said with a wry smile. ‘Irresistible. I didn’t stand a chance.’
And neither did she.
Her lips were still buzzing from his kiss when they headed out to the terrace where tables had been set up for dinner, laden with crystal and silver that glinted under the moonlight. Torches flickered, casting warm shadows across the terrace, and the sea was no more than a gleam of blackness in the distance, the tide a gentle shooshing sound as the waves lapped the shore.
They were just about to take their seats when Andrew Tyson turned expectantly to the open French windows. ‘Ah,’ he said, his voice filled with pleasure. ‘My family has finally arrived from New York. Please let me introduce you all to my wife and children.’
* * *
Luca froze before slowly turning to face the French windows, where Andrew Tyson’s wife, Mirabella, and their two children stood, framed by the gauzy white curtains.
He’d been waiting for this moment, both expecting and bracing himself for it, and yet now that it was finally here he found every thought had emptied from his head, the smile wiped from his face. Even the electric, intoxicating buzz of Hannah’s kiss was forgotten in that horrendous, endless moment.
Distantly, as if he were down a long tunnel, he heard people exchanging pleasantries. Words were said, but it was as if everyone had started speaking another language. Tyson’s two children, Stephen and Laura, came forward, smiling and shaking hands. Stephen had the dark hair of his mother and Tyson’s brown eyes. Laura was the opposite, with her father’s sandy hair and her mother’s blue eyes. They were both relaxed, friendly, completely in their element, and in a few seconds he was going to have to shake their hands. Say hello. Act normal.
He acknowledged this even as he didn’t move. Had no idea what the expression on his face was. Felt nothing but the relentless, painful thud of his heart. He’d been waiting for this moment for years, decades, and yet he hadn’t been prepared for it, not remotely.
Then he felt a soft, slender hand slide into his, fingers squeezing tightly, imbuing warmth and strength. He glanced down at Hannah’s face, the worry and concern in her eyes, the compassion in her smile, and he felt as if he’d fallen out of that tunnel with a thud, as if he’d rejoined reality, and was strong enough to deal with it—thanks to the woman next to him.
‘Stephen. Laura.’ His voice came out on a croak that he quickly covered, extending his hand for them both to shake. ‘Luca Moretti and my fiancée, Hannah Stewart.’
Hannah stepped forward to greet them both and Luca forced himself to breathe normally, to school the expression on his face into one of friendly interest. To will his heart rate to slow.
He felt the delayed reaction of shock kick in, an icy wave that swept over him and left his knees weak, his whole body near to trembling. He had to get out of there.
‘If you’ll excuse me,’ he murmured, and went in search of the bathroom.
Once inside, safely away from all the prying eyes, he splashed his face with cold water and then stared hard into the mirror, willing himself to get a grip. He’d climbed his way out of appalling poverty, negotiated dozens of million-and billion-dollar deals, was a man of power and authority and wealth. He’d conquered all these old fears and insecurities. He didn’t need to feel this way now. He wouldn’t.
Except he did.
He released a shuddering breath and rubbed a hand over his face. He needed to get back to the dinner. James Garrison was chomping at the bit to take this deal out from under him, simply out of spite. Garrison had always been jealous of Luca’s success, of the huge deals he brokered that James hadn’t a chance in hell of managing. Luca knew he couldn’t afford to throw himself a damned pity party in the bathroom.
Taking a deep breath, he straightened his tux and then opened the door to the hall, stopping short when he saw Hannah there waiting for him.
‘What are you—?’
‘I was worried about you.’ She put a hand on his sleeve, and he glanced down at her fingers, long and slender, the nails buffed and glistening with clear varnish. Every part of her was simple and yet so elegant. ‘Luca, what’s going on? Can’t you tell me?’
‘It’s nothing.’
‘That’s not true.’ Concern threaded her voice. ‘Please, Luca. Do you know how hard it is to act the part when I have no idea what you’re going through?’
‘You’re doing fine, Hannah.’ He shrugged off her hand. ‘You certainly acted the part when I kissed you.’
Colour surged into her face but her gaze was steady, her voice calm. ‘Don’t take out your frustrations on me, Luca. All I’m asking for is the truth.’
He raked a hand through his hair, knowing she had a right to understand at least a little of what was going on. ‘Tyson and I have a history,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Not a pleasant one. I didn’t expect it, but seeing him again brings it all back.’
‘And his family?’ Hannah asked. Luca tensed.
‘What about his family?’
‘You obviously didn’t like their arrival. You went white—’
‘I did not,’ he denied shortly, even though it was pointless. Hannah was gazing at him in a cringing mixture of pity and disbelief.
‘Luca—’
‘We need to get back in there.’ He cut her off, and then reached for her hand. Tonight he’d show Andrew Tyson and his damned family just how much he had, how happy he was.
By the time they arrived back on the terrace, everyone was seated and the first course had been served. Luca and Hannah took their places with murmured apologies. Luca saw he was seated next to Stephen Tyson, and he braced himself to talk to the man.
Stephen, he knew, had chosen not to take on the family’s business but was a doctor in New York instead. Now he gave Luca a friendly smile.