STARED OUT at the setting sun turning the placid sea to gold and waited for Hannah to emerge from the bathroom. He tried to ignore the guilt that flickered through him, an unpleasant ripple of sensation. All right, so he’d tricked her. He shouldn’t have. But he hadn’t had any choice. Not that Hannah would be able to understand that, and he had no intention of explaining it to her. She didn’t seem to be quite so angry now, although she had shut the door rather firmly after flouncing in there to get changed.
Sighing restlessly, Luca turned away from the spectacular view. Every nerve ending tingled with anticipation at coming face to face with Andrew Tyson. In the three months since Tyson had announced he was selling his chain of family resorts, Luca hadn’t actually spoken to the man, not even on the telephone. Everything had been done through intermediaries, until this weekend. Until now, when he would finally look upon the man he’d hated for so long. He had to close this deal. And he’d do whatever it took to accomplish that.
‘Are you ready?’ he called to Hannah. They were due on the terrace for drinks in five minutes.
‘Yes.’ She unlocked and opened the door, emerging from the bathroom with her head held high even as uncertainty flickered in her eyes. Luca felt the breath rush from his lungs as he took in her appearance.
She wore a cocktail dress in plum-coloured silk; the pure, clean line of the material across her collarbone drew his attention to the elegance of her shoulders and neck as well as the slight, enticing curve of her breasts. The dress fitted perfectly to her tiny waist and then flared out around her thighs, ending at her knees. Her long, shapely legs were encased in sheer stockings and she’d worn her hair not in its usual neat ponytail, but in loose waves about her face. She looked clean and fresh and utterly alluring.
Luca finally found his voice. ‘You look...good.’
‘I meet with your approval?’ Hannah surmised tartly. ‘Well, I need to look the part, don’t I?’ She went over to her suitcase and riffled through her belongings. ‘I don’t feel at all guilty for letting you buy me a fortune in clothes, by the way.’
‘And so you shouldn’t.’ The rays of the setting sun caught the golden glints in her hair. Luca watched as she moved her hair over to one shoulder in order to put on her earrings. He found something almost unbearably erotic about watching her do this, her neck exposed, her slender hands fitting the earring into her ear. Her feet, he saw, were bare.
‘I suppose I’ll have to give them back when this charade is over?’ she asked as she reached for a pearl necklace.
‘No, not at all. You may keep them. They’re yours.’
She fiddled with the necklace, unable to do the clasp, and Luca walked towards her. ‘Here, let me.’ His fingers brushed her nape as he did the clasp and he felt a shudder go through her. Felt it go through himself. He couldn’t resist brushing his fingers against that tender, silky skin one more time before he stepped away.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured, not looking at him. He could see a rosy flush spreading across the creamy skin of her throat and face.
‘I should have bought you some appropriate jewellery.’
‘I think that would be going above and beyond,’ she answered lightly. ‘Pearls surely suffice.’
‘Yes...but I’d like to see you with diamonds. And sapphires. They’d look lovely against your pale skin.’
She dipped her head, hiding her expression. ‘Thank you.’
Luca watched her, wishing he had a reason to touch her again. ‘You don’t seem as angry as you were before.’
She glanced quickly at him before lowering her lashes. ‘I suppose I’m not. The truth is, I actually do like you, Mr—’
‘Surely now is the time to call me Luca.’
‘Luca. Sorry, old habits die hard, I suppose.’ She sighed and then straightened before moving away from him. ‘I’d better not slip up with that one, huh? Anyway.’ She reached for a wrap in matching plum-coloured lace; it looked as fragile and delicate as cobwebs. ‘I like working for you, even if I resent having to participate in this farce of an engagement. I don’t want you to lose face or your job, and I certainly don’t want to lose mine. So.’ She turned to him, a determined smile on her face. ‘Here we are.’
‘Here we are.’ He gazed at her and she gazed back, and the moment stretched and spun out while the sun continued to set and the room became dark with shadows.
Eventually, Luca didn’t know how long it took, he roused himself and reached for her hand. ‘We should go.’
‘All right.’
And with her fingers loosely threaded through his, he led her out of the room.
* * *
The terrace was bathed with the last rays of the setting sun as Luca led her through the open French windows and out onto the smooth paving stones. Torches flickered in the deepening twilight and couples milled around along with several staff members proffering trays of champagne and frothy-looking cocktails.
Smiling wryly to herself, Hannah took a flute of champagne with murmured thanks. She took a sip, enjoying the crisp bubbles bursting on her tongue, and gazed around at the assortment of people. There were two other couples, an urbane, blond man with a tall, bony-looking woman who Hannah vaguely recognised, and a middle-aged man with greying hair and a smiling wife who had squeezed herself into a dress of green satin. Their host, as far as she could tell, was nowhere to be seen.
Next to her Luca looked relaxed and faintly amused, but Hannah could feel the tension emanating from him. The fingers that clasped his flute of champagne were white-knuckled. She wondered again why he cared so much, and knew he would never tell her. And she would probably never work up the courage to ask.
‘Greetings!’ A jovial-looking man in his seventies appeared in the French windows, rubbing his hands and smiling in expectation. Hannah recognised Andrew Tyson from the photograph she’d seen on the Tyson Resorts website. Genial, running slightly to fat, with sandy silvery hair and deep-set brown eyes. In his youth he must have been quite handsome. He still possessed a vigorous charisma now.
‘I’m so pleased to have you here at last,’ he said as he strolled onto the terrace. ‘Luca, James, and Simon. You all know each other?’
The men exchanged quick glances and terse nods. ‘Excellent, excellent. And you all have drinks?’ His gaze moved over the crowd to rest on Luca.
‘Luca Moretti,’ he said as if accessing a mental Rolodex. ‘We’ve never actually met, but I have, of course, heard of your many accomplishments in the world of real estate.’
Hannah glanced at Luca and saw his expression was bland. ‘Thank you,’ he murmured.
‘And you are recently engaged?’ Andrew’s gaze sharpened, his smile turning almost sly. ‘For I’ve heard of your accomplishments elsewhere.’
Luca drew Hannah forward, as if displaying a trophy. She tried to smile even though she didn’t like being pushed forward as if for inspection. ‘Indeed. Please meet my wife-to-be, Hannah Stewart.’
‘Hannah.’ Tyson glanced at her appraisingly, and for one horrible second Hannah wondered if he would see through this whole ridiculous charade. And she realised she didn’t want to be exposed in such a way, and she didn’t want Luca to be exposed. He might have lied and tricked her terribly, but now that she was embroiled in this ploy she wanted it to succeed.
‘I’m very pleased to meet you,’ she told Tyson, and stuck out her hand for him to shake. He kissed it instead, his lips a little damp, and next to her Luca shifted restlessly.
‘Likewise, of course,’ Tyson said. ‘Now how did the two of you meet?’
‘Hannah is my PA,’ Luca intervened swiftly. ‘We met at work. I’m not one to advocate mixing business with pleasure, but in this instance it was impossible not to.’ He sent Hannah