Modern Romance July 2016 Books 5-8. Кейт Хьюит
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wasn’t going to drop everything to parade about in sexy lingerie in the penthouse suite of the next up-and-coming five-star hotel. He might not have outlined his proposal in such vivid detail, but Hannah knew him well enough to understand what he’d had in mind. Sex, uncomplicated and available, without questions, demands, or prevarications. That was how he’d conducted all his affairs. It was what he’d been aiming for with Hannah.
No wonder she’d rejected him.
With a groan of frustration Luca sank onto the sofa. His mind was spinning with this new information. He had no idea what to do with it, but he knew he was angry that Hannah had kept it from him.
He heard the creak of the stairs and then the door opened. He looked up and saw Hannah looking calm and determined, her face pale.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he demanded in a low voice.
‘You have no right to know anything about my personal life.’
He jerked back, stung by this biting assessment. ‘Didn’t this last weekend give me some right?’
Her chin lifted a fraction and she remained by the door, her arms folded, her look haughty. ‘Honestly? No.’
Luca suppressed the angry retort he wanted to make. If he calmed down for a second, he could acknowledge that she had a point. He’d dismissed their encounter out of hand last weekend. The fact that she wasn’t falling in with his plans now was a source of frustration and disappointment, but it didn’t mean she’d been duplicitous or unreasonable. Betrayal couldn’t be involved when there had been no relationship to begin with.
He just felt betrayed.
‘Tell me about him,’ he said.
Hannah’s eyebrows rose. ‘Why, Luca? There’s nothing between us. I think it’s better if we try to—’
‘Humour me.’ He cut her off, his teeth gritted.
She stared at him for a long moment, and then finally, thankfully, she unbent. She dropped her haughty stance and came to sit across from him. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘How old is he?’
‘Five.’
‘His father?’
‘The man I told you about.’
‘Your boyfriend? You weren’t married?’ He heard the prudish censure in his voice and inwardly winced.
‘No, we weren’t married,’ Hannah answered evenly, ‘although I think we would have got married if he hadn’t died.’
‘How did he die?’
‘A motorcycle accident.’ She pressed her lips together. ‘Why do you want to know all this now?’
‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘This blindsided me, Hannah. Everything about you has blindsided me, since we first landed on Santa Nicola.’
‘Are you regretting ever introducing me as your fiancée?’ Hannah asked with a weary laugh. She looked sad, and that made him feel sad. His earlier determination to make her his mistress—and, yes, he would use that word—felt as if it had happened to a different man. Been intended for a different woman.
In truth, though, he didn’t regret anything about the weekend on Santa Nicola. He didn’t regret getting to know Hannah, or experiencing the wonder of her body. He just wanted more.
But not that much more.
‘So why didn’t you ever mention you had a child?’ he asked after a moment. ‘It’s kind of a big thing. Most employers know such details about their employees.’
‘You’re not most employers, Luca. You never asked.’
‘I assumed you were single.’
‘I am single.’
‘And childless,’ he clarified. ‘If you’d had a child, I would have expected you to mention it.’
She folded her arms, her stance turning defensive again. ‘Well, I didn’t. I like to keep my personal life private. And frankly, I suspected you wouldn’t be thrilled to know I had such a demand on my time. Executive assistants are expected to drop everything for work.’
‘And you did drop everything, on many occasions,’ Luca observed. ‘Who had Jamie?’ It felt strange to say the boy’s name.
Hannah’s mouth tightened. ‘My mother.’
‘So she lives nearby?’
‘Yes.’
Which was why she’d been here the night he’d dropped her off after their shopping and dinner. He sat back, still absorbing all the implications of what he’d discovered.
‘Are you asking all these questions as my employer,’ Hannah asked slowly, ‘or something else?’
Surprised, Luca jerked his gaze to Hannah’s. And realised he didn’t know the answer to that question. ‘I’m just surprised,’ he said gruffly, knowing that was no answer at all.
‘Well, now you know the truth. And I can assure you, it won’t affect my work. It never has.’
Luca thought of the all-nighters and weekends they’d worked together, suppressing a stab of angry guilt at the realisation. She should have told him she had a child at home who needed her care. He would have made provisions.
Maybe. Or maybe he would have informed her that she really wasn’t suited to the demands of the role.
‘I should go,’ he said, rising from his chair. Hannah watched him, a look of sadness on her face that he didn’t understand. She was the one who had rejected him. Not that he’d have made that offer if he’d known...
‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he said and with a brusque nod of farewell he stalked out of the room.
* * *
Hannah spent a sleepless night wondering if she should have done things differently. Maybe if she’d been upfront about Jamie from the beginning, or at least from last weekend, Luca wouldn’t have made his offer of an arrangement. Maybe he would have tried for something more.
Or maybe he would have run a million miles in the opposite direction. She’d known all along that Luca wasn’t dad material. She’d known full well he wasn’t interested in a relationship. Her stupid, stubborn heart had insisted on feeling differently, but it didn’t change facts.
Rejecting Luca’s proposal of an affair made her realise just how much more she wanted—if she dared. Not just with anyone, but with him. With Luca, a man whose heart was clearly off limits.
At least, Hannah reflected, the knowledge of her son would probably put Luca right off her. And, God willing, her attraction to him would fade when it wasn’t reciprocated. That was a relief, even if it didn’t feel like one.
Her heart couldn’t be that broken, considering how quickly things had progressed between them. A little dented maybe, but she’d survived much worse before, and she would again. It really was better this way.
She was still giving herself this pep talk when she dropped Jamie off at school, mentally kicking herself when she saw that his class was having a bake sale and she was the only mother who hadn’t brought in a homemade tray bake.
‘Didn’t you read the letter we sent home?’ the teacher asked, her concerned tone still managing to hold a note of reproach.
‘I must have forgotten,’ Hannah said. She turned to Jamie, who was watching the parade of parents with their offerings of baked goods with a stoic expression that strangely reminded her of Luca. ‘Sorry, sweetheart.’
Her little man squared his shoulders. ‘It’s okay.’
But it wasn’t. She tried not to drop the ball like this, but occasionally it happened. Hannah supposed she could excuse herself