Moretti's Marriage Command. Kate Hewitt
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evening gown and flung it at the assistant, too unsettled and overwhelmed to care how she treated the delicate material.
What was going on? Why was Luca treating her this way? And why had she reacted to the sight of him in the dressing room, her body tightening, heat flaring deep inside when she’d turned around and seen his gaze dip to her unimpressive cleavage?
Perhaps, she thought resentfully, she’d simply never seen this side of her boss before. Outside the office, Luca Moretti might well be the kind of man who flirted and teased and stormed into women’s dressing rooms and undid their gowns...
She suppressed a shiver at the memory of his fingers skimming her back as he’d tugged on the tie. Stupid, to react to the man that way. At this moment she wasn’t even sure she liked him. And yet it had been a long, long time since she’d been touched like that.
Not, of course, that Luca had had any intention other than discomfiting her when he’d undone her dress. Hannah was savvy enough to realise that.
And as for the cost... Maybe it was irrational to protest when a millionaire spent what was essentially pocket change, but it was a lot of money to her. With nine thousand pounds she could have redone her kitchen or afforded a better life insurance policy...
‘Signorina? Would you like to try on the next ensemble?’
Letting out a long, low breath, Hannah nodded. ‘Yes, please.’ This whole evening had entered into the realm of the utterly surreal, including her own reactions. When had she ever dared to talk back to her boss? Yet he didn’t feel like her boss when she was in a dressing room, her back bare, her breasts practically on display. And yet at the same time he felt more like her boss than ever, demanding and autocratic, expecting instant compliance. It was all so incredibly bizarre.
The assistant handed her a shift dress in pale pink linen that fitted perfectly. Would Luca want to see this dress as well? And what about her swimming costume, or the lacy, frothy underthings she could see waiting on a chair? A blaze of heat went through her at the thought, leaving her more disconcerted than ever.
‘It’s fine,’ she told the assistant, and then took it off as fast as she could. Maybe if she worked quickly enough Luca wouldn’t bother striding into her dressing room, acting as if he owned the world, acting as if he owned her.
Forty-two minutes later all the clothes Hannah had tried on, including the most modest bikini she’d been able to find and two sets of lingerie in beige silk and cream lace, were wrapped in tissue paper and put in expensive-looking bags with satin ribbons for handles. She hadn’t even seen Luca hand over a credit card, and she dreaded to think what the bill was. Why on earth was he spending a fortune on her clothes, and for such a negligible business deal? She didn’t like feeling beholden to him in such a way. She worked hard and earned everything she got, and she preferred it like that.
‘I think you’ve spent more on me tonight than you’ll make taking over these resorts,’ she remarked as they stepped out into the street. The rain had cleared and a pale sickle moon rose above the elegant town houses of Mayfair. ‘Andrew Tyson only owns about half a dozen resorts, doesn’t he?’
‘The land alone makes it worth it,’ Luca replied, buttoning his jacket. Seconds later the limo appeared at the kerb, and the sales assistant loaded the bags into the boot.
‘I should get home,’ Hannah said. She felt relieved at the thought of being away from Luca’s unsettling presence, and yet reluctant to end the bizarre magic of the evening. But it was a forty-five-minute Tube ride to her small terraced house on the end of the Northern Line, and she’d be late enough as it was.
‘I’ll drive you,’ Luca answered. ‘Get in.’
‘I live rather far away...’
‘I know where you live.’
His calm assertion discomfited her. Of course her boss knew where she lived; it was on her employment record. And yet the thought of Luca invading her home, seeing even just a glimpse her private life, made her resist.
‘I don’t...’
‘Hannah, get in. It’s nearly eight and we’re leaving at nine tomorrow morning. Why spend nearly an hour on the Tube when you don’t have to?’
He had a point. As it was she’d be getting back later than she liked. ‘All right, thank you.’ She climbed into the limo, sitting well away from Luca. She could still remember the feel of his fingers on her back. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He’d probably been amused at how embarrassed she’d been. He probably undressed women in his sleep. The only reason she’d responded to him like that was because he was attractive and she hadn’t been touched by a man in over five years. Her mother had told her it was more than time to jump back in the dating pool, but Hannah hadn’t had time even to think about dipping a toe in.
The limo pulled into the street and Hannah sat back, suddenly overwhelmed with fatigue. The last few hours had taken an emotional toll.
‘Here.’ Luca pressed a glass into her hands, and her fingers closed around the fragile stem automatically. She looked in surprise at the flute of champagne. The driver must have had it ready. ‘You didn’t have any in the boutique,’ Luca explained, ‘and you said you had never tasted it before.’
‘Oh.’ She was touched by his thoughtfulness, and yet she felt weirdly exposed too. When had her boss ever considered what she wanted in such a way? ‘Thank you.’
‘Drink,’ Luca said, and Hannah took a cautious sip, wrinkling her nose as the bubbles fizzed their way upward. Luca smiled at her faintly, no doubt amused by her inexperience.
‘It’s a bit more tickly than I thought,’ she said. She felt incredibly gauche. Luca had most likely first imbibed Dom Perignon from a baby’s bottle. He kept a bottle in his limo, after all. And here she was, saying how the bubbles tickled her nose.
She handed back the champagne with an awkward smile, and Luca took it, one dark eyebrow arched. ‘Is it not to your liking?’
‘It’s just... I haven’t eaten anything. And you know, alcohol on an empty stomach, never a good idea...’ She was babbling, out of her element in so many ways. She, the calm, capable, unflappable PA, had been reduced to stammering and blushing by her boss, who was acting more like a man than an employer. She couldn’t understand him or herself, and it was incredibly annoying.
‘I’m sorry,’ Luca murmured. ‘I should have thought.’ He pressed the intercom button and issued some directions in Italian. Hannah eyed him askance.
‘What are you doing...?’
‘I asked him to stop so we can eat. You don’t have plans?’
Surprised alarm had her lurching upright. ‘No, but really, it’s not necessary—’
‘Hannah, you’re hungry. When you work late at the office, I provide dinner. Consider this the same thing.’
Except this didn’t feel like the same thing. And when the limo stopped in front of an elegant bistro with red velvet curtains in the windows and curling gold script on the door, Hannah knew their meal would be a far cry from the sandwiches and coffee Luca usually had her order in when they were both working late.
She swallowed audibly, and then forced back the feelings of uncertainty and inadequacy. She’d been working as PA to one of the most powerful men in real estate for three years. She could handle dinner at a restaurant.
Straightening her spine, she got out of the car. Luca opened the door to the restaurant for her and then followed her in. The muted, understated elegance of the place fell over her like a soothing blanket.
‘A table for two, Monsieur Moretti?’ The French waiter asked, menus already in hand. Was her boss known everywhere?
Luca nodded and within seconds they were escorted to a private table in the corner, tucked away from the few other diners in the restaurant.
Hannah scanned the menu; it provided a temporary escape from