cab and catch a flight to New York. His mother’s death had plunged him into a tunnel of despair for a frighteningly long time. It had taken a good year or more for him to be able to function anywhere near normal again because, disturbingly, his work and everything he’d achieved had become utterly meaningless. Life had only started to improve when the warm memory of Anna’s tenderness and his mother’s unfailing belief that he was a much better man than the world suspected broke through the walls of his grief and his self-imposed isolation and helped him start to entertain the possibility of a very different, much more fulfilling future.
That was when Dante had decided to change his driven, selfish approach to something far more wholesome.
The Cathcarts were a delightful couple, with admirably solid values when it came to business and family. But Dante, although charmed by their unstinting hospitality and the superlative lunch, sensed that some of those solid values were a bit too entrenched in the past and needed to be brought up to date.
At lunch, his cool gaze assessed as much as it could as they talked, including the worn velvet hangings at the stately Georgian dining room windows, the tarnished silver cutlery and the slightly old-fashioned uniforms of the waiting staff. Afterwards he was invited to the Cathcarts’ office to discuss the nuts and bolts of an investment.
As the fragrant, elegant Anita Cathcart poured him some coffee—at Dante’s nod adding cream and sugar—he sat back in the comfortable leather chair, loosened his silk tie a little and relaxed. The hotel was in an absolutely prime location and could—as Eddie had foreseen—potentially be a goldmine. Because of lack of funds and the large debt they had accrued with the bank, it was clear the Cathcarts weren’t able to make the best of their incredible asset, and that was where Dante came in.
‘We’ll get started soon, Mr Romano. We’re just waiting for our assistant manager to join us. She’s more like family than an employee, and we’d like her to be in on what we decide. She’ll be along any minute now.’
Jason, the Cathcarts’ slightly built son and manager, smiled diffidently at Dante as he sat down opposite him at the meeting table. He was clutching a pen and a spiral notebook and his hand shook a little. What was the story with him? Dante wondered. Was the manager’s role too big an ask for him, or was it just that he struggled to assert himself under his parents’ guardianship of the hotel?
‘Was she informed about the meeting?’
‘Yes…of course. It’s just that she—’
‘Then she should be here on time, like everyone else.’
His chastising glance encompassed them all, but Dante nonetheless tempered it with a trace of a smile. He heard the door behind him open and turned expectantly. A woman with hair the same hue as a bright russet apple stepped inside, bringing with her the faint but stirring scent of oranges and patchouli.
His thoughts careened to an abrupt halt…like a driver applying the emergency brake before hitting a wall. He stared in shock. Anna…dear God, she still worked here?
‘I’m so sorry I’m late,’ she breathed, porcelain skin flushing. ‘I was—’
The startled leap in her sherry-brown eyes told Dante she recognised him. His heart—which had all but stalled—pumped a little harder as he realised he’d been genuinely afraid she might have forgotten him. What a blow that would have been to his pride, when out of all the women he’d seen over the years she was the one that haunted him…
‘Mr Romano,’ Grant Cathcart was saying, ‘I’d like to introduce you to our stalwart assistant manager…Anna Bailey.’
Rising automatically to his feet, Dante extended his hand, praying hard that his voice wouldn’t desert him. Anna’s palm was fragile and slightly chilled as it slid into his. Their gazes locked as though magnetized, and though he sensed her tremble, inside he believed that he trembled more.
‘Miss Bailey…I’m very pleased to meet you,’ he heard himself announce.
‘The feeling is mutual, Mr—Mr Romano,’ she replied politely.
Her warm velvet voice bathed his senses in liquid honey. Arresting memories of their unforgettable night together came pouring back in a disturbing heated rush. Realising that his hand still covered hers, Dante reluctantly withdrew it.
‘Why don’t you come and sit down, Anna love? ‘ Anita invited. ‘There’s plenty of coffee in the pot if you’d like some.’
‘I’m fine, thanks,’ Anna murmured distractedly.
As Dante watched her, she moved like a sleepwalker to a seat at the opposite side of the table, next to Jason, and he didn’t miss the spark of warmth in the other man’s dark eyes as he silently acknowledged her. Was something going on there? A hot flash of jealousy hit Dante a glancing blow as he resumed his seat.
‘Well, if everybody’s ready, we’ll make a start, shall we? ‘ With a respectful glance in their visitor’s direction, Grant Cathcart organised his notes and prepared to address the meeting.
Dante Romano. No wonder she’d never been able to find him! What had instigated the name-change? she wondered. Underneath, was he still as ruthless and cutthroat as it had said in the newspaper reports she’d read when she’d been searching for him? But what did it matter when it had already been decided by the Cathcarts that he was going to be their saviour?
As well as investing a substantial amount of money in the Mirabelle, Dante Romano was taking the hotel, its owners and its staff firmly under his wing. Being satisfied that Anita and Grant were completely happy with the arrangement was one thing. Only time would tell if Anna would be equally happy. There was a very big—in fact a huge hurdle she had to cross before then.
Shaking her head, she emitted a small groan as she added chopped up red and green peppers to the stir-fry she was busy cooking for herself and Tia.
She’d half believed she was hallucinating when she’d walked into the office to find Dan, or Dante as he called himself now, sitting there. And she’d had such a jolt when his incredible winter-coloured eyes had bored into hers. In those electrifying few seconds the world could have ended, and she hadn’t been able to drag her hypnotised gaze away.
Five years ago she’d never even asked him his full name. When he’d asked her to stay with him for the night but not to expect anything more she’d agreed—and she’d promised herself she wouldn’t speculate on where he would go or what he would do when he left her, even if it ultimately meant he was going from her arms to someone else’s.
Consoling herself that she’d helped comfort him in his hour of need, and that no matter how emotionally painful it was it would have to be enough, Anna had never intended to try and track him down afterwards. But when she’d found herself pregnant with his child she’d reasoned that she owed it to him to let him know. However, discovering that the suite’s occupant Dan Masterson was a veritable ‘shark’ in the world of international business, who didn’t care who he brought down in his empire-building quest, had definitely given her pause. He might have been tender with Anna that night they’d spent together, and he might have been troubled, but could she knowingly risk inflicting such a driven ruthless man on her child?
She’d decided no, she couldn’t. Besides, she’d definitely received the impression from her one-night lover that he wasn’t interested in a relationship, so why would he be interested in the fact that he’d left his one-time-only lover pregnant? she’d reasoned.
Leading up to that night five years ago she’d been working so hard, what with all the different jobs she did at the hotel—sometimes even working double shifts back to back—and because she’d been extremely tired, she’d absent-mindedly forgotten to take one of her daily contraceptive pills. It had only dawned on Anna to check when early-morning nausea had become a worrying recurrence.
Some months after Tia had been born she’d revised her decision not to get in touch with Dan and decided to try once more to locate