Moretti's Marriage Command. Кейт Хьюит
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herself in the tycoon’s luxurious villa, but what else could she do?
She was just composing an email to Andrew Tyson’s PA when Luca came out of his office, shrugging into his suit jacket, his face settling into a frown as he caught sight of her.
‘Aren’t you ready?’
‘I’m sorry, I’m just emailing Mr Tyson’s PA—’
His frown deepened. ‘What for?’
‘To arrange for an extra bedroom—’
‘That won’t be necessary,’ Luca said swiftly, and then leaned over and closed her laptop with a snap.
Hannah stared at him, too surprised to mask the emotion. ‘But if I don’t email—’
‘It’s taken care of.’
‘It is?’
‘Don’t question me, Hannah. And in future please leave all communications with Mr Tyson to me.’
Stung, she recoiled a bit at his tone. ‘I’ve always—’
‘This negotiation is delicate. I’ll explain the particulars later. Now let’s go. I have a lot of things to do tonight besides buy you some clothes.’
Her cheeks burned at his dismissive tone. Her boss was often restless and impatient, but he wasn’t rude. Was it her fault that her wardrobe wasn’t that of a socialite? Wordlessly she rose from her desk and took her laptop, about to slide it into her messenger bag.
‘Leave that.’
‘My laptop?’ She stared at him, flummoxed. ‘But I’ll need it if we’re to work on the plane—’
‘It won’t be necessary.’
A finger of unease crept along her spine. Something felt very off about this weekend, and yet she could not imagine what it was. ‘Mr Moretti, I don’t understand...’
‘What is there to understand? You’re accompanying me on a weekend that is as much a social occasion as it is a business one. I’m asking you to use some sensitivity and discretion, as the situation is delicate. Is that beyond your capabilities, Miss Stewart?’
Her face burned at being given such a dressing-down. ‘No, of course not.’
‘Good.’ He nodded towards the lift doors. ‘Now let’s go.’
Stiff with affront, Hannah took her coat and followed Luca to the lift. She waited, staring straight ahead, trying to master her irritation, until the doors pinged open and Luca gestured for her to go in first. She did so, and as he followed her she was conscious in an entirely new way of how he filled the space of the lift. Surely they’d ridden in the lift together before, many times. Yet now, as Luca stabbed the button for the ground floor, she felt how big he was. How male. His shoulders strained the seams of his suit jacket, and his rangy, restless energy made the very air seem as if it were charged. She snuck a glance at his profile, the square jaw shadowed with stubble, the straight nose and angular cheekbones. Long, surprisingly lush lashes, and hard, dark eyes.
Hannah knew women flocked to Luca Moretti. They were attracted to his air of restless remoteness as much as his blatant sexuality and effortless charisma. Perhaps they fooled themselves into thinking they could tame or trap him; no one ever could. Hannah had kept more than one tearful beauty from her boss’s door. He never thanked her for that little service; he acted as if the women who practically threw themselves at him didn’t exist, at least not outside the bedroom. Or so Hannah assumed—she had no idea how Luca Moretti acted in the bedroom.
Just the thought sent a blush heating her cheeks now, even though she was still annoyed with his uncharacteristically terse attitude. High-handed she could take, when it was tempered with wry charm and grace. But Luca Moretti merely barking out orders was hard to stomach.
Thankfully the doors opened and they left the confined space of the lift, Luca ushering her out into the impressive marble foyer of Moretti Enterprises. A receptionist bid them good day and then they were out in the rain-washed streets, the damp air cooling her face, the twilight hiding her blush.
A limo pulled to the kerb the moment they stepped out, and Luca’s driver jumped out to open the door.
‘After you,’ Luca said, and Hannah slid inside the luxurious interior. Luca followed, his thigh nudging hers before he shifted closer to the window.
Hannah couldn’t resist stroking the buttery soft leather of the seat. ‘I’ve never been in a limo before,’ she admitted, and Luca cocked an eyebrow at her.
‘Never?’
‘No.’ Why would she? He might travel in this sort of style all over the world, but she stayed firmly on the top floor of Moretti Enterprises. Of course, she’d seen plenty of luxury from a distance. She’d ordered champagne to celebrate his business deals, heard the pop of the cork in the meeting room down from his office. She’d booked dozens of first-class tickets and five-star hotel rooms, had instructed concierges around the world on Luca Moretti’s preferences: no lilies in any flower arrangements in his suite and sheets with a five hundred thread count. She’d just never experienced any of that expense or luxury herself. ‘I haven’t stayed in a five-star hotel or flown first class either,’ she informed him a bit tartly. Not everyone was as privileged as he was. ‘I haven’t even tasted champagne.’
‘Well, you can enjoy some of that this weekend,’ Luca said, and turned to stare out of the window, the lights from the traffic casting his face in a yellow wash. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said abruptly. ‘I know I must seem...tense.’
Hannah eyed him warily. ‘Ye—es...’
He turned to her with a small, rueful smile. ‘I think that was an inward “you’ve been an absolute rotter”.’ His expression softened, his gaze sweeping over her, lashes lowering in a way that made Hannah feel the need to shift in her seat. ‘I am sorry.’
‘Why are you so tense?’
‘As I said before, this weekend is delicate.’ He turned back to the window, one long-fingered hand rubbing his jaw. ‘Very delicate.’
Hannah knew better than to press. She had no idea why this business deal was so delicate; as far as she could tell, the chain of family resort hotels Luca was planning to take over was a relatively small addition to his real-estate portfolio.
The limo pulled up to Diavola, the windows lit although it was nearly seven o’clock at night. Hannah suppressed a shiver of apprehension. How was this supposed to work? Would she choose the dress, or would her boss? She’d done many things for Luca Moretti, but she hadn’t bought herself an evening gown for him. She didn’t relish the idea of parading clothes in front of him, but maybe he’d just let her choose a gown and get on with it.
Of course he would. He was already impatient, wanting to get onto the next thing; Luca Moretti wasn’t going to entertain himself watching his PA try on different dresses. Comforted by this thought, Hannah slid out of the limo.
Luca followed her quickly, placing one hand on her elbow. The touch shocked her; Luca never touched her. Not so much as a hug or a pat on the back in three years of working for him. Hannah had always got the sense that he was a solitary man, despite the parade of women through his life, and she hadn’t minded because she appreciated the focus on work. She didn’t have room in her life for much else.
Now Luca kept his hand on her elbow as he guided her into the boutique, and then slid it to the small of her back as a shop assistant came forward. Hannah felt as if he were branding her back, his palm warm through the thin material of her skirt, his fingers splayed so she could feel the light yet firm pressure of each one. His pinkie finger reached the curve of her bottom, and her whole body stiffened in response as a treacherous flash of heat jolted through her.
‘I would like a complete wardrobe for the weekend for my companion,’ he said to the woman, who batted over-mascaraed lashes at him. ‘Evening gowns, day wear, a swimming costume, nightgown, underthings.’