Ruthless Revenge: Delicious Demand

CHAPTER THREE

LUCA DRUMMED HIS fingers against his thigh as the limo pulled up in front of Hannah’s house. He’d been there less than twelve hours ago, dropping her off after their shopping and meal. He’d been strangely disquieted to have a tiny glimpse into her life—the narrow hall with its clutter of coats and boots, the sound of a woman’s voice. Her mother? Why did he care?

Perhaps because since he’d met her he’d viewed Hannah Stewart as nothing more than a means to his own end. First as his PA, efficient and capable, and now as his stand-in wife-to-be. Last night he’d realised that if this ridiculous charade was going to work, he needed to know more about Hannah. And he hadn’t learned much, but what he had discovered was that getting to know Hannah even a little bit made him feel guilty for using her.

Sighing impatiently at his own pointless thoughts, Luca opened the door to the limo and stepped out into the street. It wasn’t as if he was making Hannah’s life difficult. She was getting a luxurious weekend on a Mediterranean island, all expenses paid. And if she had to play-act a bit, what was the big deal? He’d make it worth her while.

He pressed the doorbell, and Hannah answered the door almost immediately. She wore her usual work outfit of a dark pencil skirt and a pale silk blouse, this time grey and pink. Pearls at her throat and ears and low black heels complemented the outfit. There was nothing wrong with it, but it wasn’t what his fiancée would be wearing to accompany him on a weekend house party. She looked like a PA, not a woman in love on a holiday.

‘What happened to the outfits I bought you yesterday?’ Luca demanded.

‘Hello to you too,’ Hannah answered. ‘I’m saving them for when I’m actually on Santa Nicola.’ She arched an eyebrow. ‘Being on the aeroplane isn’t part of the social occasion, is it?’

‘Of course not.’ Luca knew he couldn’t actually fault Hannah. She was acting in accordance to the brief he had given her. He’d tell her the truth soon enough...when there was no chance of anything going wrong. Nothing could risk his plan for this weekend. ‘Are you packed?’

‘Of course.’ She reached for her suitcase but Luca took it first. ‘I’ll put it in the boot.’

‘Hello, Mr Moretti.’ An older woman with faded eyes and grey, bobbed hair emerged from behind Hannah to give him a tentative smile.

‘Good morning.’ Belatedly Luca realised how snappish he must have sounded when talking to Hannah. This whole experience was making him lose his cool, his control. He forced as charming a smile as he could and extended his hand to the woman who took it.

‘I’m Diane Stewart, Hannah’s mother—’

‘Lovely to meet you.’

‘I should go, Mum,’ Hannah said. She slipped on a black wool coat, lifting her neat ponytail away from the collar. Luca had a sudden, unsettling glimpse of the nape of her neck, the skin pale, the tiny hairs golden and curling.

‘I’ll say goodbye to Jamie for you,’ Diane promised and Luca looked sharply at Hannah, who flushed.

Jamie—a boyfriend? Clearly someone close to her. Although maybe Jamie was a girl’s name. A friend? A sister?

‘Thanks, Mum,’ she muttered, and quickly hugged her mother before walking towards the limo.

Luca handed the suitcase to his driver before getting in the back with Hannah. She was sitting close to the window, her face turned towards the glass.

‘Do you live with your mother?’ he asked.

‘No, she just stayed the night because I was so late getting home.’

‘Why was she there at all?’

She gave him a quick, quelling look. ‘She’s visiting.’

Hannah Stewart seemed as private as he was. Luca settled back in the seat. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve cut your visit short.’ He paused. ‘You could have told me she was visiting. I would have made allowances.’

Hannah’s look of disbelief was rather eloquent. Luca felt a dart of annoyance, which was unreasonable since he knew he wouldn’t have made allowances. He needed Hannah’s attendance this weekend too much. Still he defended himself. ‘I’m not that unreasonable an employer.’

‘I never said you were.’

Which was true. But he felt nettled anyway, as if he’d done something wrong. It was that damned guilt, for tricking her into this. He didn’t like lying. He’d always played a straight bat, prided himself on his plain dealing. He’d lived with too many lies to act otherwise. But this was different, this was decades-deep, right down to his soul, and his revenge on Andrew Tyson was far more important than his PA’s tender feelings. Feeling better for that reminder, Luca reached for his smartphone and started scrolling through messages.

* * *

Hannah sat back in her seat, glad to have that awkward goodbye scene over with. Luca had been surprisingly curious about her life, and she’d thankfully managed to deflect his questions. She’d never told her boss about her son, and she wanted to keep it that way. She knew instinctively that Luca Moretti would not take kindly to his PA having such an obligation of responsibility, no matter what he said about allowances. She was fortunate that her mother lived nearby and had always been happy to help out. Without Diane’s help, Hannah never would have been able to take the job as Luca Moretti’s PA. She certainly wouldn’t have been able to perform it with the same level of capability.

Now she tried to banish all the thoughts and worries that had kept her up last night as she’d wondered what she was getting into, and if she was doing the right thing in leaving her son for two days. She wanted to stop wondering if she was coming across as gauche as she felt, or why her normally taciturn boss was suddenly turning his narrow-eyed attention to her.

No, today she’d told herself she was going to simply enjoy everything that came her way, whether it was champagne and caviar or a first-class plane ticket. This was an adventure, and she’d got out of the habit of enjoying or even looking for adventures. Since she’d had Jamie her life had become predictable and safe, which wasn’t a bad thing but sometimes it was boring. She realised she was actually looking forward to a little bit of a shake-up.

‘You’re smiling,’ Luca observed and, startled, Hannah refocused her gaze on her boss. He’d been watching her, she realised with a lurch of alarm. Or maybe it was simply awareness that she felt. A tingling spread through her body as his gaze remained resting on her, his mahogany-brown eyes crinkled at the corners, a faint smile tugging at his own mobile mouth. He wore a navy blue suit she’d probably seen before, with a crisp white shirt and silver-grey tie. Standard business wear, elegant and expensive, the suit cut perfectly to his broad shoulders and trim hips. Why was she noticing it today? Why was she feeling so aware?

‘I was just thinking about flying first class,’ she said.

‘Ah yes. Something else you haven’t done before.’

‘No, and I’m looking forward to it.’ She smiled wryly. ‘I’m sure it’s same old, same old for you.’

‘It’s refreshing to see someone experience something for the first time.’ His mouth curved in a deeper smile, the look in his eyes disconcertingly warm. ‘Tickly or not.’

She lifted her chin, fighting a flush. ‘I admit, I’m not very experienced in the ways of the world.’

‘Why aren’t you?’

‘Maybe because I’m not a millionaire?’ Hannah returned dryly. ‘Most people don’t travel first class, you know.’

‘I’m well aware. But plenty of people have tasted champagne.’ He cocked his head, his warm gaze turning thoughtful. ‘You seem to have missed out a bit on life, Hannah.’

Which was all too perceptive of him. And even though she knew it was true, it still stung. ‘I’ve been working,’ she replied with a shrug. ‘And I have responsibilities...’ She left it at that but Luca’s eyes had narrowed.

‘What kind of responsibilities?’

‘Family,’ she hedged. ‘Nothing that interferes with my work,’ she defended and he nodded, hands spread palm upward.

‘As well I know. I do appreciate you coming for the weekend.’

‘I didn’t think I really had much choice,’ Hannah returned, then drew an even breath. ‘Why don’t you tell me more about this weekend? You said it was a social occasion? How so?’

The warmth left Luca’s eyes and Hannah felt tension steal into his body even though he’d barely moved. ‘Andrew Tyson is a family man,’ he stated. ‘Wife, two children, resorts dedicated to providing people with the ultimate family experience.’

‘Yes, I did some research on them when I was booking your travel,’ Hannah recalled. ‘“A Tyson Holiday is a memory for ever,”’ she quoted and Luca grimaced.

‘Right.’

‘You don’t like the idea?’

‘Not particularly.’

She shouldn’t have been surprised. Luca Moretti had never struck her as the wife-and-kids type, which was why she’d kept her own son secret from him. He was never short of female company, though, and none of them lasted very long. A week at the most. ‘Why are you going after these resorts if you don’t really like the idea behind them?’

‘I don’t make business decisions based on personal preferences,’ Luca answered shortly. One hand closed in a fist on his powerful thigh and he straightened it out slowly, deliberately, his palm flat on his leg, his fingers, long and tapered, stretching towards his knee. ‘I make business decisions based on what is financially sound and potentially profitable.’

‘But Andrew Tyson only has a handful of resorts, doesn’t he? The Santa Nicola resort, one on Tenerife, one on Kos, one on—’

‘Sicily, and then a couple in the Caribbean. Yes.’

‘It’s small potatoes to a man like you,’ Hannah pointed out. Luca had orchestrated multibillion-dollar deals all around the world. A couple of family resorts, especially ones that looked as if they needed a bit of updating, hardly seemed his sort of thing.

Luca shifted in his seat. ‘As I told you before, the land alone makes this a lucrative deal.’

‘Okay, but you still haven’t told me why this is a social occasion.’

‘Because Tyson wants it to be one. He’s always espoused family values, and so he wants each potential owner to socialise with him and his family.’

‘So chatting up little kids?’ Hannah couldn’t quite keep the note of amusement from her voice. ‘It sounds like your worst nightmare.’

‘His children are grown up,’ Luca answered. ‘The son is only a year younger than I am.’

‘Do his children have children?’

‘I have no idea.’ Luca sounded eminently bored. ‘Probably. The son is married.’

Hannah considered the implications of everything he’d just said. So she’d be socialising with Andrew Tyson and his family, chatting up his children and generally being friendly? She was starting to realise why Luca had wanted her to come along.

‘So you want me to be your front man,’ she said slowly.

Luca swivelled to face her. ‘Excuse me?’

‘To do the talking,’ Hannah explained. ‘Chatting to his wife and children while you get on with the business side of things. Right?’

He gave one terse nod. ‘Right.’

She settled back in her seat. ‘All right. I can do that.’

‘Good,’ Luca answered, and he turned back to his phone.

The VIP lounge at the airport fully lived up to Hannah’s expectations. She enjoyed the plush seats, the complimentary mimosas and breakfast buffet, and when Luca suggested she take advantage of the adjoining spa and get a manicure and pedicure, she decided to go for it. Why not enjoy all the opportunities that were on offer? It wasn’t as if she had many chances to relax in a spa.

By the time they boarded the plane she was feeling pleasantly relaxed; one of the spa attendants had given her a head and neck massage while her feet had been soaking. It had felt lovely, as had Luca’s look of blatant male appreciation when she’d emerged from the spa—the attendant had insisted on doing her hair and make-up as well.

‘You look good,’ he said in approval, and, while Hannah knew she shouldn’t care what Luca thought of her looks, his masculine admiration spoke to the feminine heart of her.

‘I think,’ she told him as they took their seats in the plane’s first-class section, ‘I could get used to this.’

Luca’s mouth quirked up at one corner. ‘I’m sure you could.’ He accepted two flutes of champagne from the airline steward and handed one to Hannah. ‘And now you should get used to this.’

‘Why are you so determined to have me become used to champagne?’ Hannah asked as she took a sip. Second time round the bubbles didn’t tickle her nose quite so much.

‘Why not? You should enjoy all of these new experiences.’

‘True,’ Hannah answered. ‘And since you said this was a social occasion, I might as well.’ She took another sip of champagne. ‘Are we meant to be working during the flight?’

‘No.’

‘So why did you put me up in first class?’

‘I wanted to watch you enjoy the experience.’

Hannah felt her stomach dip at this implication of his words, the intimacy of them. She was suddenly conscious of how this all seemed: the champagne flute dangling from her fingers, the cosy enclave of their first-class seats, and Luca Moretti lounging next to her, not taking his warm gaze from hers. She swallowed hard.

‘Well, I am enjoying it,’ she said, striving for normality. ‘Thank you.’ The last thing she needed was to start crushing on her boss. He’d probably find that amusing—or maybe offensive, and fire her. She handed her half-drunk champagne to the steward and buckled her seat belt. Time to get things back to the way they’d always been.

Luca must have been thinking along the same lines because he reached for the in-flight magazine as the plane took off, and then spent the rest of the four-hour flight looking over some paperwork. Hannah asked him once if he needed her to do anything, and he snapped at her that he didn’t.

In fact, with each passing hour of the flight, he seemed to get more and more tense, his muscles taut, his eyes shadowed, his face grim. Hannah wondered what was going on, but she didn’t dare ask.

She tried to watch a movie but her mind was pinging all over the place, and so she ended up simply staring out of the window at the azure sky, waiting for the minutes and hours to pass.

And then they did, and they landed on Santa Nicola, the Mediterranean glittering like a bright blue promise in the distance.

‘Is someone meeting us at the airport?’

‘Yes, one of Tyson’s staff is picking us up.’ Luca rose from his seat and shrugged into his suit jacket. ‘Let me do the talking.’

Okay... ‘I thought you wanted me to socialise.’

‘I do. But not with the staff.’

Bewildered, Hannah stared at him, but Luca’s deliberately bland expression gave nothing away. He held a hand out to her to help her from her seat, and after a second’s hesitation she took it.

The feel of his warm, dry palm sliding across and then enfolding hers was a jolt to her system, like missing the last step in a staircase. Instinctively she started to withdraw her hand but Luca tightened his hands over hers and pulled her forward.

‘Come on,’ he murmured. ‘People are waiting.’

With his hand still encasing hers she followed him out of the plane, blinking in the bright sunlight as she navigated the narrow steps down to the tarmac. She was just thinking that she wished she’d packed her sunglasses in her carry-on rather than her suitcase when she heard someone call a greeting to Luca and then felt his arm snake around her waist.

Hannah went rigid in shock at the feel of his fingers splayed on one hip, her other hip pressed against his thigh.

‘Signor Moretti! We are so pleased to welcome you to Santa Nicola.’ A tanned, friendly-looking man in khaki shorts and a red polo shirt with the Tyson logo on the breast pocket came striding towards them. ‘And this is...?’ he asked, glancing at Hannah with a smile.

‘Hannah Stewart,’ Luca filled in smoothly, his arm still firmly about her waist. ‘My fiancée.’

CHAPTER FOUR

HANNAH STOOD BLINKING stupidly at the man who had come forward. He reached for her hand and numbly she gave it to him.

‘Signorina Stewart. So pleased to meet you! Signor Moretti mentioned he was bringing his fiancée, and we look forward to getting to know you. I am Stefano, one of the members of Mr Tyson’s staff.’

Hannah could only stare at Stefano, trying to find the brain cells to string two words together. The only word she could think of was the one Luca had used with such confident precision. Fiancée.

What on earth...?

‘Hannah,’ Luca murmured, and she felt the pressure of his hand on her waist, the warmth of his palm seeping through her skirt.

Still reeling, she forced a smile onto her face. ‘Pleased to meet you, I’m sure.’

As soon as she said the words she wished she hadn’t. Now she was complicit in this...whatever this was. A lie, obviously. A ruthless deception—and for what purpose? Why on earth would Luca pretend she was something she wasn’t?

Because he was pretending he was something he wasn’t.

The answer was so blindingly obvious Hannah couldn’t believe she hadn’t twigged earlier. Andrew Tyson was a family man, and this weekend was meant to be a social occasion. Of course. Luca Moretti, the famous womaniser, needed a woman. A fiancée to show he was the kind of family man Tyson must want him to be. What other reason could he have possibly had for introducing her that way? For lying?

‘Come this way,’ Stefano said, beckoning towards the waiting open-topped Jeep emblazoned with the Tyson logo, a dolphin jumping in front of a sun. ‘Mr Tyson’s villa is only a few minutes away.’

Hannah walked like an automaton towards the Jeep, Luca next to her, his arm still around her. She wanted to shrug it off but she didn’t think she’d be able to; his grip was like a vice. She tried to catch his eye but he was staring blandly ahead. Damn the man. What on earth was she supposed to do now?

They got in the back of the Jeep and Stefano hopped in the front. Hannah was barely aware of the gorgeous surroundings: mountains provided a stunning, jagged backdrop to lush greenery that framed both sides of the paved single-track road. She’d read that Santa Nicola was virtually unspoilt, save for the resort, and she could see it now in the jungle of bright flowers that gave way to superbly landscaped gardens and high walls of pink sandstone.

‘Luca,’ she muttered meaningfully, although she hardly knew where to begin, how to protest. ‘You can’t—’

‘I already have,’ he murmured as the Jeep came to a stop in front of a sprawling villa, its pale stone walls climbing with ivy and bougainvillea.

‘I know,’ Hannah snapped. ‘And you shouldn’t have—’ She was prevented from saying anything more by Stefano coming around to open the door on her side and help her out onto the cobbled pavement.

‘Mr Tyson looks forward to welcoming you properly this evening, during the cocktail hour. In the meantime you can both rest and refresh yourselves.’

‘Thank you,’ Hannah muttered, although everything in her cried out to end this absurd charade. She was so angry and shocked she could barely manage to speak civilly to Stefano, who of course had no idea what was going on. Yet.

And Hannah wondered how on earth she could tell him, or anyone here, the truth. Luca had made it virtually impossible, and yet still she fantasised about coming clean and watching Luca Moretti get the send-up he undoubtedly deserved. How dare he put her in this position?

Stefano led them into the gracious entryway of the villa, a soaring foyer that made the most of the house’s unparalleled view of the sea. Down a long terracotta-tiled corridor, and then through double louvred doors into a spacious and elegant bedroom, a massive king-sized bed its impressive centrepiece, the French windows opened to a private terrace that led to the beach, gauzy curtains blowing in the sea breeze.

‘This is marvellous, thank you,’ Luca said, shaking Stefano’s hand, and with a murmured farewell Stefano closed the doors behind them, finally, thankfully, leaving them alone.

Hannah whirled around to face Luca, who stood in the centre of the bedroom, hands in the pockets of his trousers, a faint frown on his face as he surveyed the room with its elegant furnishings in cream and light green.

‘How could you?’ she gasped out. ‘How dare you?’

Luca moved his gaze to her. He seemed utterly unmoved, without a shred of remorse or embarrassment. ‘If you are referring to the way I introduced you—’

‘Of course I’m referring to that!’

‘It was necessary.’ And he strolled over to the windows as if that was actually the end of the discussion.

Hannah stared at his broad back, watching as he closed and fastened the windows. Finally she managed to say in what she hoped was a level, reasonable voice, ‘Do you actually think this can work?’

Luca turned around to face her, eyebrows arrogantly raised. ‘I don’t embark on ventures that are doomed to failure.’

‘I think you may be in for a new experience, then,’ Hannah snapped.

‘Why? Why shouldn’t Andrew Tyson believe you’re my fiancée?’

‘Because I’m not—’

‘Are you not suitable?’ Luca steamrolled over her, his voice silky and yet underlaid with iron. ‘Are you not pretty or smart or sophisticated enough?’

A hot flush broke out over Hannah’s body as she glared at him. ‘No, I’m not,’ she answered flatly. ‘As you well know. I hadn’t even flown first class before today—or drunk champagne—’ Suddenly the memory of him pressing the flute into her hands, smiling at her with such gentle amusement, was enough to make her burst into tears. She swallowed hard before continuing furiously, realisation ripping away any illusions she’d had left. ‘So everything you’ve done has been to maintain this...this ridiculous facade.’ She glanced down at her varnished nails, her hands curling instinctively into fists. ‘The manicure and pedicure?’ she spat. ‘The hair and make-up...’ She remembered the look of approval in his eyes. You look good. And she’d inwardly preened at his praise. ‘You just wanted me to look the part.’

‘Is that so objectionable?’

‘This whole farce is objectionable! You tricked me.’

Luca sighed, as if she were being so very tedious by objecting. ‘I’m asking for very little, Hannah.’

‘Very little? You’re asking me to lie to strangers. To pretend to—to be in love with you!’ The words rang out, making her wince. She hadn’t meant it quite like that, and yet...that was what he was asking. Wasn’t it?

‘I’m not asking anything of the kind,’ Luca returned evenly. ‘Although surely it wouldn’t be too hard?’

Hannah recoiled, horrified at the implication. Did he think he was so desirable—or simply that she was so desperate? ‘Yes, it would,’ she said stiffly. ‘Since in actuality I barely know you. Which was the point of the little “getting to know you” spiel last night at dinner, wasn’t it?’ She shook her head, disgusted with both him and herself. She’d known something was off, but how on earth could she have suspected this? ‘Well, at least now you know I’m an only child. That’s something, I suppose. Make sure to mention it during the cocktail hour.’

‘You know me well enough,’ Luca answered, his tone deliberately unruffled. ‘You’ve worked for me for three years. In fact,’ he continued, strolling towards her, ‘you probably know me better than anyone else does.’

‘I do?’ She blinked at him, surprised and a little saddened by this admission. She’d known Luca was a solitary man, but surely he had closer people in his life than his PA. ‘What about your family?’

‘Not around.’

‘Where—?’

‘You’re the only person who sees me every day, Hannah. Who knows my preferences, my foibles and quirks. Yes, I think you know me very well.’

‘Yes, but you don’t know me.’ And she didn’t care whether she knew him or not. She wouldn’t want to play-act as his fiancée even if they’d been best friends. Which they were most decidedly not.

‘I think I know you a little bit,’ Luca said, a smile curving the sensuous mouth Hannah suddenly couldn’t look away from.

‘What? How?’ He didn’t know anything. ‘You’ve never asked me anything about my life until last night.’

‘Maybe I don’t need to ask.’

‘What are you saying?’ He’d taken a step closer to her and her stomach writhed and leapt in response, as if she’d swallowed snakes. She pressed one hand to her middle, knowing the gesture to be revealing, and stood her ground even though she desperately wanted to take a step away from him.

Instead he took a step closer. ‘Let’s see,’ he murmured, his voice a low hum that seemed to reverberate right through her bones. He was close enough so that she could inhale the cedarwood scent of his aftershave, see the muscles corded in his neck. Some time since entering the room he’d loosened his silver silk tie and undone the top two buttons of his shirt, so she could see the strong brown column of his throat, the dark hairs sprinkling his chest below. She jerked her gaze away from the sight.

‘You don’t know me,’ she stated firmly. ‘At all. Because if you did, you’d know I’d never agree to something like this.’

‘Which is why I didn’t ask you, so perhaps I do know you after all.’

‘You don’t,’ she insisted. He was close enough to breathe in, to feel his heat. If she reached one hand out she could place a palm on his chest, feel the crisp cotton of his shirt, the steady thud of his heart, the flex of his powerful muscles...

Hannah drew her breath in sharply, horrified by the nature of her thoughts. What kind of sorcerer was Luca Moretti, to weave this spell over her so easily?

‘I think I do,’ Luca murmured. He stood right in front of her, his gaze roving over her, searching, finding, feeling as intimate as a caress. ‘I know you drink your coffee with milk and two sugars, although you pretend you have it black.’

‘What...?’ Her breath came out in a rush. It was such a little thing, but he was right. She added the sugar when she was alone because she was self-conscious about taking it. Every working woman in London seemed to drink their coffee black and eat lettuce leaves for lunch.

Somehow she managed to rally. ‘That’s not very much,’ she scoffed.

‘I’m only beginning,’ Luca answered. ‘I know you look at travel blogs on your lunch break. I know you have an incredible work ethic but you seem embarrassed by it sometimes. I know you’re determined to be cheerful but sometimes, when you think no one is looking, you seem sad.’

Hannah drew a deep breath, too shocked to respond or even to blush. How had he seen all these things? How did he know?

‘And,’ Luca finished softly as he turned away, ‘I know there is someone in your life named Jamie whom you care about very much.’

She stiffened. ‘Well done, Sherlock,’ she managed. ‘You’re obviously very perceptive, but it doesn’t change what I think—that this is wrong, and you never should have forced me into this position.’

Luca turned back to her, the warmth she’d just seen in his eyes evaporated, leaving only chilly darkness. ‘How exactly,’ he asked, his voice dangerously soft, ‘did I force you?’

‘It’s not as if you gave me a choice,’ Hannah exclaimed. ‘Introducing me as your fiancée! What was I supposed to do, tell them you were a liar?’

He shrugged, the movement elegant, muscles rippling underneath his shirt. ‘You could have done.’ He lifted his gaze to hers, those dark, cold eyes so penetrating. ‘Why didn’t you?’

‘Because...’

‘Because?’ Luca prompted softly.

‘It would have been very awkward,’ Hannah said. ‘For both of us.’

‘What’s a little awkwardness?’

‘You might have fired me—’

He arched an eyebrow. ‘And be sued for sexual harassment?’

‘I could already sue you for that,’ Hannah dared to suggest. Luca’s eyes narrowed.

‘And then you really would lose your job, just as I would lose mine.’

She swallowed. ‘You could have paid me off.’

The smile he gave her was cynical and hard. ‘Is that what you’re suggesting?’

‘No.’ Appalled, Hannah wondered how on earth they’d pursued this line of conversation. She wasn’t going to sue him, even if part of her inwardly railed that she should, that Luca Moretti deserved everything he had coming to him, including a whole lot of awkwardness.

‘I don’t want money,’ she informed him stiffly. ‘I simply don’t want to be in this position, and I resent that you put me in it. Why didn’t you tell me before?’

‘Because you would have refused.’

She stared at his calm expression, his hard eyes. He stood before her, arrogant and assured, utterly unrepentant. ‘You don’t have a shred of remorse, do you?’ she asked wonderingly.

‘No,’ Luca agreed, ‘I don’t. Because if you let go of your huffy indignation for a moment, Hannah, you’ll realise I’m not asking very much of you.’

‘You’re asking me to lie.’

‘And you’ve never lied before?’

She bit her lip. ‘Of course, everyone’s lied, but this is different—’

‘Andrew Tyson is putting unreasonable expectations on the real-estate developer who buys his precious resorts,’ Luca cut across her flatly. ‘I know I’m the best man for the job, and I shouldn’t have to be married to be selected. The injustice is his, not mine.’

‘How many other developers are bidding on it?’

‘Two, and they’re both married.’

Somehow she found the temerity to joke. ‘You weren’t tempted to say I was your wife?’

‘I was tempted,’ Luca admitted. ‘But I figured that would be too hard to pull off.’

‘How pragmatic of you,’ Hannah murmured. Her mind was still spinning but some of her self-righteous fury had deflated. She didn’t know whether it was simply the awesome force of Luca’s personality or because she actually sympathised with him a little. Or maybe it was because she was just too tired to keep it up.

Slowly she walked to a cream divan positioned in an alcove and sank onto its soft seat. ‘So how do you propose—no pun intended—to make this work? Not,’ she informed him with swift asperity, ‘that I’m actually thinking of going along with this idea.’