Ruthless Revenge: Delicious Demand. Кейт Хьюит
could feel Hannah’s concern, the tension tautening her slender body. It was strange how attuned they’d become to each other and their moods, but perhaps that was simply an effect of the parts they had to play.
‘Really?’ Stephen shrugged, still smiling. ‘Strange, but you look familiar.’
‘Perhaps you’ve seen his photograph in one of the industry magazines?’ Hannah suggested with a smile of her own. ‘Luca is quite famous in his own right.’ She placed a hand over his, squeezing his fingers, and Luca felt his heart twist inside him. He’d never had someone fight his corner before, even in the smallest way. He’d always been alone, had gone through childhood with his fists up and his nose bloody. Seeing Tyson made him feel like that battered boy again, and yet having Hannah hold his hand reminded him that he wasn’t.
‘Of course you are,’ Stephen acknowledged. ‘I know you developed the cancer centre in Ohio. It was really a masterwork of art and functionality. Utterly brilliant.’
‘Thank you,’ Luca said gruffly. He hadn’t expected Stephen Tyson to be so friendly and sincere. It made it hard to hate him.
Somehow he managed to get through three courses, making small talk, smiling when necessary. He’d brought Hannah’s hand underneath the table after the first course to rest on his thigh and he wrapped his fingers around hers, clinging to her, craving her warmth. She didn’t let go.
As the coffee and petits fours were being served, Andrew Tyson rose to make a toast.
‘It’s such a pleasure to have three dedicated family men here,’ he began with a genial smile for all of them. ‘As someone who has always determined to put family first, it is of course important to me that the man who takes on Tyson Resorts share my values.’ He paused, his smiling gaze moving to his wife and then to his children. ‘While I am saddened that my own children have not chosen this task, I understand completely why they’ve decided to pursue their own dreams—as I of course wish them to. My children are my pride and my joy, the touchstone of my life, along with my wife. The happiness I’ve experienced with my family is what I wish for each of you, and for every family who visits a Tyson resort.’
Luca couldn’t bear to hear any more. He shifted in his seat, and Hannah squeezed his hand in warning. He couldn’t leave now, but he could at least tune out Tyson’s words.
Finally Tyson raised his glass and everyone else did as well, murmuring ‘Hear, hear...’ dutifully. Luca drained his glass of wine and then pulled away from Hannah.
‘Luca,’ she began, but he just shook his head.
‘Later,’ he managed, and then strode down the terrace steps, out into the darkness.
* * *
Hannah dabbed her mouth with her napkin, trying to cover the worry that she was sure was visible on her face. What kind of terrible history could Luca possibly have with Andrew Tyson? She glanced at the man who was now chatting with Simon and Rose Tucker, and decided she would make her excuses as well. If Luca left without her, it might look as if they were having a lovers’ tiff. If they both left, people might assume it was a romantic tryst instead.
She made her farewells to the Tysons, telling them that Luca had wanted to steal her away for a moonlit walk on the beach.
‘Ah, young love,’ Andrew answered with a genial smile. ‘There’s nothing like it.’
No indeed, Hannah thought grimly as she held handfuls of her dress to keep from tripping down the stone steps that led directly to the beach.
Away from the candlelit terrace, the beach was awash in darkness, the white sand lit only by a pale sickle of moon. Hannah couldn’t see Luca anywhere. Impatiently she kicked off the silver stiletto heels that made walking in sand impossible, and gathered a big handful of gauzy dress around her knees so she could walk unimpeded. Then she set off in search of her erstwhile fiancé.
HANNAH FOUND LUCA about half a mile down the beach, away from the villa, with nothing but a few palm trees for company. He sat with his elbows resting on his knees, his head cradled in his hands. Hannah had never seen such an abject pose; every powerful line of Luca’s body seemed to radiate despair.
She hesitated, not wanting to intrude on his moment of sorrowful solitude, but not wanting to leave him alone either. He looked too lonely.
‘I’m not going to bite your head off,’ Luca said, his voice low and so very weary. ‘Although you have good reason to think I would.’
She came closer, her dress trailing on the sand that was cool and silky under her bare feet.
‘I wasn’t thinking that,’ she said quietly, and came to sit beside him, drawing her knees up as his were. He didn’t lift his head. She thought about asking him yet again what pain and secrets he was hiding, but she didn’t think there was much point. Luca didn’t want to tell her and, truthfully, she didn’t blame him. She had pain and secrets of her own she didn’t want spilling out. Still, she felt she had to say something.
‘The petits fours weren’t actually that good,’ she ventured after a moment. ‘So you really didn’t miss much.’
Luca let out a soft huff of laughter, and somehow that sounded sad too.
‘I know what it’s like to grieve, Luca,’ Hannah said quietly.
‘Is that what you think I’m doing?’
‘I don’t know, and I won’t ask because I know you don’t want to tell me. But...’ she let out her breath slowly ‘... I know what it’s like to feel angry and cheated and in despair.’
‘Do you?’ Luca lifted his head to gaze at her speculatively; she could only just make out the strong lines and angles of his face in the moonlit darkness. ‘Who do you grieve, Hannah?’
It was such a personal question, and one whose answer she didn’t talk about much. Yet she was the one who had started this conversation, and if Luca wasn’t able to talk about his pain, perhaps she should talk about hers.
‘My father, for one,’ Hannah answered. ‘He died when I was fifteen.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Luca stared straight ahead, his arms braced against his knees. ‘How did it happen?’
‘A heart attack out of the blue. He went to work and dropped dead at his desk. It was a complete shock to everyone.’
‘Which must have made it even harder.’
‘Yes, in a way. My mother wasn’t prepared emotionally, obviously, or financially.’
Luca glanced at her. ‘Your father didn’t leave her provided for?’
‘No, not really. He’d always meant to take out a life insurance policy, but he never got around to it. He was only forty-two years old. And savings were slim... He wasn’t irresponsible,’ she hastened to add. ‘Just not planning for the disaster that happened.’ And she’d decided long ago not to be bitter about that. She’d simply chosen to make different choices.
‘So what did your mother do?’
‘Got a job. She’d been a housewife for sixteen years, since before I was born, and she’d been a part-time preschool teacher before that. It was tough to find work that earned more than a pittance.’
‘And what about you?’
‘I worked too, after school. We sold our house and rented a small flat. That helped with expenses.’ But it had been hard, so hard, to go from the simple, smiling suburban life she’d had as a child to working all hours and living in a small, shabby flat.
‘I’m sorry,’ Luca said again. ‘I never knew.’
‘I never told you.’ She paused, waiting for him to