‘I’d work you by day...’ He smiled, completely unfazed as he toyed with her breast, still throbbing from his previous attention, for this was the life he led. ‘And then make up for it by night.’
‘So while you’re on the island I’d be cooped up—’
‘Hardly cooped up. It’s not a tin boat with a gas stove....’
‘I have seen your yacht, Luka.’
Well, she had seen pictures of it and had seen some of the accounts for it. It was a luxury resort in itself, and of course she knew all about the wild parties that were held there.
And now she was being invited into the playboy’s bed.
Oh, the dewy mist of his lovemaking was most certainly starting to clear for suddenly Cecelia pulled herself away and sat up.
And it was then that realisation kicked in. ‘Luka, we didn’t use anything...’
In a life spent not making mistakes, Cecelia had just made a huge one and there was no excuse.
For either of them.
‘Are you on the Pill?’
‘Yes, I’m on the Pill,’ she snapped as she tried to remember if she’d taken it last night, because it hadn’t just been putting out her clothes for the morning that had fallen by the wayside. But surely if she went home now and took it, then she’d be fine.
But pregnancy wasn’t the only thing on her mind.
‘It’s not just that, though.’ Cecelia turned and looked over to where he lay and saw that his expression was equally grim.
He’d just told her he’d once been a gigolo—she could not believe she had been so careless.
‘Cecelia, you don’t have to worry about anything there,’ Luka said as he moved to reassure her. ‘I always use protection.’
‘Well, clearly you don’t!’
It was as much her fault as his, Cecelia knew that, and her angry tone was aimed more towards herself.
‘You’ll be fine,’ he said, which might have sounded dismissive, but neither did he want to admit just how impossibly rare this lapse was.
She gave a terse nod and headed for the shower while Luka lay there, his hands behind his head, trying to fathom what had just taken place.
This morning he’d forgotten the rules. This morning he’d been so wrapped in the feel of her, the feel of them, that he’d forgotten the care he usually took.
He had complete control in the bedroom, for though he was wild he was not reckless.
Yet this morning he had been.
Not only had he invited her to come to Xanero with him—at least he had quickly reacted and told Cece that she would only be on the yacht—but for a moment he had glimpsed it. His dream, showing off the first Kargas restaurant and the now stunning resort which was by far his proudest achievement to date.
And he had told her how his ascent to the top had started.
Luka wasn’t particularly close to anyone.
He kept work and family neatly separated, and certainly he had never invited an employee, albeit one who had resigned, to join him there.
The yacht was for escape, for parties and fun. It had never been used as a couples’ retreat.
She came out of the shower and dressed quickly. He was relieved that she seemed as keen to leave as he now wanted her gone, for she had messed with his head.
‘I’d better take your case in to the office,’ Cecelia said.
‘Please.’ He nodded. ‘I’ll be in later.’
No, he wasn’t a perfect gentleman, for he did not tell her to leave the case and that he would take it.
And neither would his driver magically appear.
She could take the underground.
Cecelia had said herself that she wanted to draw a neat line and get back to being his PA.
That suited him just fine.
Last night had been amazing.
So had this morning, and yet now he was left feeling deeply unsettled.
Luka chose not to get close to anyone, but this morning he had.
* * *
Xanero really was hell in paradise.
For Luka, the first week there had been a protracted nightmare—his mother seemed resigned to her fate and his father continued to lord it over the restaurant and resort.
And he had found out that his father was bullying the staff.
Bastard!
While Luka disliked how his father had rewritten history to suit the image of himself he wanted to believe, Luka could live with it if it made life easier on his mother.
But bullying would not happen in one of Luka’s establishments, and for all the lies and wealth that shaped his mother’s life, she was finding it no easier that he could see.
Luka had taken the yacht out over the weekend, but the pop of champagne corks and the sound of music skimming over the Mediterranean had soon grated and he had cleared everyone off except the crew as he mulled things over. Now, back on Xanero, and midway through the second week, on the Wednesday morning his decisions were made and he was ready to execute them.
He walked through the alfresco area of the restaurant where diners were enjoying the morning sun and through to the cool darkness of the main restaurant.
Theo Kargas was at the bar, speaking with the bar manager, and Luka could feel the young man’s tension from across the room.
‘Hey,’ he said to his father. ‘We need to talk.’
‘About?’ Theo asked, even as he crammed whitebait, crisped to perfection, into his mouth. He was utterly relaxed, for any angry words from his son always took place out of earshot of the staff.
Yes, Luka’s door was always closed.
Not so today.
‘I want to discuss your appalling treatment of my staff and your inexcusable conduct towards my mother.’
Theo almost choked, but then attempted a recovery. ‘Your staff? We are partners. I gave you—’
‘You gave me nothing,’ Luka said, and got right in his father’s face. ‘You actually believe your own lies. Now, as I said, we need to talk...’ He gestured to a table, for he too would prefer privacy for this but the fact he had first addressed the issues in front of the bar manager had been deliberate.
Theo would listen, or Luka would act.
‘I bought this restaurant,’ Luka said, ‘from the money I made picking up rich woman...’
‘Luka,’ his father warned, for a waiter was setting up the table and could hear what was being said.
‘What?’ Luka shrugged. ‘I’m not ashamed of it.’
Well, perhaps he was a bit, but having told Cecelia the real truth about his start he felt more reconciled with it.
So he told his father a truth that had consistently been ignored. ‘I gave you an opportunity to work, and you spurned it. I have put up with it for years for my mother’s sake. No more. I am hiring a new manager, who shall report directly to me. One more episode of your foul temper used on my staff and I shall take you through the courts to extricate you from our agreement and the restaurant’s name shall be changed to Luka Kargas.’
‘It would kill your mother.’
‘She’s already dying,’ Luka pointed