And then the nursing home rang to say that her father had been asking for her all morning.
‘He’s fine,’ the nurse assured her. ‘Just a touch anxious…’
‘Look, I know I haven’t been in as much recently.’ Emma closed her eyes in exhaustion. ‘It’s not that I don’t want to.’
‘We’re not trying to make you feel guilty,’ the nurse said. ‘You asked that we keep you up to date, and though he is confused, well…he does notice that you’re not visiting as often as you were.’
‘Tell him that I’ll be in soon,’ Emma said.
‘Can I tell him when?’
They didn’t mean to make her feel guilty—except guilty was exactly how she felt.
And at times it was completely overwhelming.
She pressed her fingers into her eyes in a bid to stem the tears, stem the urge to just throw in the towel, to let her brothers sort out the mess. To stop caring about a father who had treated her so poorly in the past.
When the house did sell, she’d be homeless. Oh, the profits from the sale would cover the overdue fees of the home, but it was the backlog of debt that was giving her nightmares.
‘Problem?’ Emma jumped, unsure how long Luca had been watching her.
‘Not at all…’ She forced a smile. ‘The meeting went well; I’ll write up a report and get the information to you.’
‘I wasn’t talking about the HR meeting.’ Luca frowned. ‘Is anything wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ Emma said, then realising what he’d seen she relented. ‘I’ve got a bit of headache, that’s all.’
‘My housekeeper’s not well.’
‘Oh!’ Emma blinked, reaching for the phone. ‘Did you want me to ring the agency and arrange a replacement?’
‘I’ll survive for a day,’ Luca said magnanimously, ‘but I am going to be flying to Japan this afternoon. Evelyn’s coming with me, she’s gone home to get ready, so can you go over to my apartment and pack for me?’
It was a strange byproduct, Emma had realised, of being rich and in demand—there was very little personal in his personal life. There was a whole army of people ensuring that every minute of his valuable time was put to best use. Letting herself into his vast, luxurious apartment a little later, Emma bent down and went to stroke Pepper, who duly growled a warning, then waddled to the huge glass sliding door to be let out. Emma wandered out onto the balcony and stared at the spectacular view of the Thames, before setting to work. She headed into the bedroom, opening her organiser and locating the list that would tell her what was required for a two-night international business trip.
All the information was there in her folder.
His immaculate suits and shoes were packed, as was his equally immaculate casual wear, and then she opened his underwear drawer to see neat rows of folded hipsters and socks as if they were on display in an exclusive store. There was nothing personal about the choices she made—the list saw to that. These cufflinks were preferred with this tie and shirt, these shoes with that suit…It just felt personal, that was all.
‘Hey!’ Emma jumped as Luca walked into the bedroom unannounced, blushing as she held a handful of his hipsters. It just seemed wrong somehow to be going through his underwear drawer, even though it was her job to be in there.
He was completely at ease with it, of course.
Just kicked off his shoes and lay on the bed, chatting on his phone as Emma walked through to the sumptuous bathroom to pack his toiletries and to try and not listen as he made a couple of personal calls—cancelling his plans for the next couple of nights and, by the sound of it, breaking a couple of hearts in the process.
‘Why?’ Luca asked as she came back into the bedroom with his toiletry bag and was finishing off his packing, ‘when I say I’m going to Japan, do they think it has something to do with them—why would they think that I’m lying?’
‘Because you usually are,’ Emma pointed out.
‘Well, I’m not this time.’ He ran lazy eyes over her, taking in the smudges under her eyes, the vague distraction that slightly displaced her more usual sunny nature. ‘What’s wrong, Em?’
‘Ms Stephenson to you!’ Emma instantly pulled him up, refusing, just refusing as she always did with him, to cross the line. ‘But you can call me Emma.’
‘What’s wrong, Emma? And don’t give me that rubbish about a headache.’
‘Nothing’s wrong,’ Emma insisted.
He lay back on the bed, closed his eyes and gave a low laugh.
‘Now that I’ve stopped, I realise I have a headache too!”
He did—right there at the front of his head. He could hear the sounds of her packing, and it would be so incredibly easy to just close his eyes and sleep. He didn’t want to go to Tokyo. Incredibly, and not for the first time lately, he could hardly stomach the thought of the flight.
‘We should fare force…’ Luca smiled with his eyes still closed.
‘Sorry?’
‘You know…’ he waved his hand, tried to come up with the English word for it, but it eluded him, and those gorgeous navy eyes finally opened to hers. ‘Leave school…’ He snapped his fingers, impatient with himself now. ‘Not go back.’
‘Play hooky!’ Emma grinned.
‘Play hooky!’ Luca smiled at the term and closed his eyes. ‘That would be good—we could get ice-packs from the fridge for our foreheads and lie in the dark and ignore the phone.’
‘Sounds good.’
‘And I wasn’t being inappropriate.’
‘I know.’ Emma smiled, because she knew exactly what he meant, exactly how he felt, because she felt it too. ‘But we can’t.’
He looked as if he was dozing, except his mind was actually whirring.
He was sick of keeping things businesslike between them.
He was cross with himself too for his handling of things.
He wanted her.
And yet he didn’t—because he actually liked working with her. Liked having her around, and once things moved, as they surely would, well…
There was no question of a future for them.
Not even a hint of one.
He deliberately didn’t do long-term relationships—as soon as things got too comfortable, too nice, he cut all ties.
It was a promise he had made himself many years ago.
He lay there, head pounding, listened to her pad out to the kitchen, to the running of the tap, and for once he was torn with indecision.
He wanted her.
He didn’t want to lose her.
Yet he couldn’t have both.
‘Here.’ She was back, holding out a glass of water and punching out two tablets from a blister pack. ‘Take these.’
‘Only if you do.’
Emma punched out two for herself and they shared the glass of water. Funny that he noticed a little thing like that—funny that to Luca it mattered that she didn’t go and get another glass.
‘We’ll feel better in twenty minutes.’ Emma smiled, glad that they seemed to be talking normally again after the strain of the past few weeks. ‘It says so on the box.’
She zipped his suit holder and picked up the phone to summon his driver as Luca downed a quick shot of espresso from his coffee machine. He stuffed files and papers into his briefcase as he gave her a few lastminute instructions that would take about a couple of hours to execute.
‘Any problems, ring Kasumi. It doesn’t matter what time it is there—things have to be in place for tomorrow.’
‘Sure!’ He watched her bristle slightly at the mention of the other PA’s name and inside Luca smiled.
‘Saifu o otoshimashita,’ Luca said, watching her cheeks go pink as he repeated the words he had said to Kasumi. ‘Isha o yonde kudasai.’
‘You can tell her yourself when you see her,’ Emma responded coolly.
‘I’ve dropped my wallet!’ Luca laughed. ‘Can someone please call a doctor? I was practising new phrases!’
He made her laugh, but her little fla
re of jealousy was acknowledged and out there now—and she didn’t know how to handle him, or this energy that swirled between them. His dangerous offer still dangled in the air and right there at that moment she wanted to reach out and grab it. Maybe she could fake it, Emma thought wildly, maybe she could pretend that she wasn’t a virgin. Maybe her body would just know what to do. Evelyn buzzed and he picked up his briefcase. ‘Don’t bother going back to the office,’ he said, nodding to a PC. ‘Do it from here and then finish up for the day…’ He frowned at her pale face. ‘Actually, have tomorrow off.’
‘I’ve got a full schedule tomorrow.’
‘Cancel it—my orders.’ Luca shrugged. ‘Have a day off and sort out whatever “nothing” is, or, failing that, catch up on some sleep. I’ll see you on Monday.’
And as always, he left home as easily as he left a hotel room—just turned and walked out of the door without a second thought.
As he handed his driver his bag, her voice reached him. ‘Have a safe trip.’
He looked back over his shoulder, a throw-away comment, a rushed farewell on the tip of his tongue, and in that moment he glimpsed it.
Leaving.
How it could feel to leave home.
‘See you Monday.’ His voice was gruff and Emma stood there as he closed the door behind him.
Now that he was gone, she breathed.
She wanted to tell him.
For the first time ever, she actually wanted to confide in someone—to tell him what ‘nothing’meant. To share, to reveal, not that he might fix it, because she knew no one could do that, not so he might wave a magic wand and make her father suddenly better, or the nursing-home fees smaller, or the anger at her father’s past treatment of her disappear. It was none of that. No, standing in that bedroom, seeing him lying on the bed, those dark blue eyes concerned, all she had wanted was to do exactly what Luca had said.
Fare force.
To escape for a little while, to lie down beside him in a dark room and let the world carry right on without her for a little while.
As the door flung open again she stood to attention almost, snapped the smile back on her face as Luca hurried in and strode across the lounge towards her. He must have forgotten his passport or phone or…
And then it happened.
What she had been secretly thinking about from the very first time she had seen him.
What she had desperately been trying to avoid and ignore.
That bubbling, simmering tension between them finally acknowledged.
His arms pulling her in and his mouth pressing on hers.
Wrapping her in his embrace and crushing her with his mouth.
And it should have been unexpected, should have caused shock, anger, except it was just pure relief.
Sheer, sheer relief to be kissed and to kiss back.
His tongue was cool and he tasted of mint and man and coffee and escape—and Emma didn’t at that point question it. All she did was feel it. The bliss of firm lips and the scent that had always made itself known captivated her as it intensified in their close proximity.
His body to touch was everything her eyes had promised—lean and powerful beneath her hands and against her own body.
His eyes were closed, she had to look, had to see him, and it made her want this moment more because he was as lost in it as she. He moved from her mouth, his moist lips lingering on her cheeks, his hands on the small of her back pushing her hips into his, and then it was her ear he was kissing. Instead of moving her head away, with his kiss, she leaned towards him, curved into his touch, weaker in her body as Luca’s mouth met her throat and thoroughly kissed it too—her neck was arching and his hands had moved, both now on the peach of her buttocks and pressing her heat into him. Then his mouth found hers again and she tasted his ragged breaths—and it was just like the first time she’d ever seen him, because the world was black again, everything diminished and nothing else mattered, just his kiss and his body. And who cared where it might lead or the damage it might do, because for the first time ever she wasn’t thinking or fixing or solving or surviving—she was living, just alive and alert, but only for this, for him, for them.
And then the intercom buzzed—Evelyn warning him they would be late.
‘That,’ Emma said in a shaky voice as he pulled back from her, ‘didn’t just happen.’ She put her fingers up to her lips, could feel them swollen and tasting of him, and what had been simple and natural a moment ago was suddenly very confusing.
And then he kissed her again.
‘Or that,’ Luca said, and he stared into her lovely clear eyes and saw the whir of confusion. She was wholly adorable and for a second he felt regret.
Real, wretched regret, because soon he’d have to get used to missing her.
But it was too late for regret, because he’d pulled the pin now and the countdown to the inevitable end had started.
As Evelyn’s voice on the intercom filled the room, warning she was on her way up, he gave Emma a quick frantic look that made her giggle. ‘Don’t tell her!’
‘God, no…’ Emma swallowed. ‘Just go…’ She was more than confused now, trying to assert herself, wishing she could turn back the clock, only Luca was upping the ante now.
‘Think about Italy.’ He was still holding her, his kiss this steam that wouldn’t evaporate. She felt as if she’d been running, could feel her hammering heartbeat and the dampness between her legs. His knowing eyes were on hers, his hands on her hips, and he pulled her a little way in towards him once more, giving her just another small, decadent feel of what was there waiting there for her if only she could reach out and take it.
‘What are you so scared of?’ Luca asked, and after just a moment’s thought she gave him a very honest answer.
‘Losing.’ She stared back at him, and it wasn’t just the job, or the jet-set lifestyle, she was scared of losing, but him. ‘Let’s just forget that it happened.’
Futile words—and they both knew it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘DAD, please don’t cry.’
He always got upset when it was time for her to leave. She hadn’t got to the nursing home till eight p.m., and so couldn’t stay, but Luca left for Sicily tomorrow—he had finally agreed to stay with his family for a few nights so at least for a couple of days she’d be able to see more of her father.
It was worth it—even if her boss was barely talking to her! Luca was clearly smarting as, even after their kiss, she still had persisted in saying no to accompanying him to his sister’s wedding.
‘I just miss her…’ Frank was staring at a photo of her mother and Emma just didn’t get it—growing up, it had been practically forbidden to talk about her, and now it was practically all he talked about! Going over the past as if it had happened just yesterday, and it actually hurt to hear it. ‘I just want my Gloria. Why did she have to leave us?’
‘Dad, she didn’t want to…’
‘Off with that scum of a man…calling himself an artist! How could she walk out on her family?’ Emma felt the blood in her veins turn to ice.
‘She didn’t walk out on us, Dad, she was killed in a car accident.’
‘Out on the town with her fancy man, leaving her little girl crying at home,’ Frank sobbed, and the night nurse came in then.
‘We’re going to give him his sleeping tablet now, Emma, and settle him down.’
‘How could she walk out on four kids?’
How she wanted to press him for answers, to bombard him with questions, but the nurse was giving him his medicine, trying to settle him down, and he was just too frail and too confused to push it right then.
‘Rory!’ She didn’t care if it was late, or that she was driving, she punched in his name and waited for him to pick up, not bothering to introduce herself, just blurting out her question. ‘Did Mum walk out on us?’
‘Emma?’
‘Just tell me what happened.’
‘You know what happened,’ Rory sighed. ‘T
here was a car accident.’
‘Who was driving?’
Emma knew he was holding back, could tell by the uncomfortable pause before Rory next spoke.
‘What’s Dad saying now?’
‘That she walked out on us.’
There was a very long silence and then came a truth she had never prepared for. ‘Mum left us a month before she died.’ As he heard her start to sob, Rory showed rare concern for his sister. ‘Look, pull over, you shouldn’t be driving…’
‘She just left us!’
‘She wanted to “find herself”, do her damned art, see this new guy. Look, it was twenty years ago! I don’t see what you’re getting so worked up about,’ Rory attempted. ‘It doesn’t change anything.’
Oh, but it did.
She clicked off the phone and threw it onto the passenger seat.
It changed everything.
She shouldn’t be driving in this state…so she forced herself to concentrate, forced herself to be calm until she pulled up to her family home—the for-sale sign on the door, the home, the family her mother had walked out on—and only then did she see him. His car was there, waiting for her, and Luca climbed out of the back seat and walked towards her. His face was grey, and in the streetlight she could see the tiny lines around his eyes, the dark, weary shadows beneath them.
She could smell the whisky on his breath and hear the dread in his words, and it matched her soul.
‘Come with me tomorrow.’ He didn’t touch her, he didn’t make any demands, he didn’t even ask, he just matched her need.
‘Yes.’
He blinked just a touch at the ease of her answer, a smile spreading over his face, relief creeping in, because now he could stomach it, now he could face it.
‘What took you so long?’ Luca asked.
Her mother had left them…
This idol she had looked up to, the perfect woman, gone too soon, had feet of clay after all—and she was angry, but boy it felt good to contemplate living instead of mourning, to let go of the past and dive into the future.
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