‘I know you do,’ Luka said. ‘Come on, what happened?’
Cecelia hesitated.
Certainly she would not be telling Luka that at inappropriate times images of him had kept popping into her head! And neither would she tell him that she had thought herself content until he’d appeared in her life.
Instead, she told him a far safer version. ‘I decided that my aunt and uncle’s version of the perfect man for me didn’t fit mine.’
‘Your aunt and uncle?’ he checked, recalling that Cecelia’s aunt was her next of kin on her résumé.
‘I was raised by them after my mother died.’
‘How old were you then?’
‘Eight,’ Cecelia said through taut lips, for she was terribly uncomfortable with the subject, but Luka seemed very intent on finding things out tonight.
‘What about your father?’
She gave a slight shake of her head, which told him nothing other than the subject was out of bounds.
Not just with Luka.
She had never told anyone about the time she had come face to face with him.
He had dark hair and had worn a wedding ring.
That was all Cecelia knew. That and the fact he had shouted at her mother. When the money had run out, Harriet had called him to tell him he had a child, but it hadn’t produced the result her mother had obviously hoped for.
There had been no joyful greeting. His eyes had been furious when they had met hers, and Harriet had quickly sent her daughter to her room.
A lot of shouting had ensued and Cecelia had found out that her mother had once been given a considerable sum of money for... Cecelia had frowned when she heard a word that a seven-year-old Cecelia didn’t understand.
Termination.
Soon after, to her terrible distress, she found out what her father had meant.
‘I don’t want to talk about my father,’ she said to Luka.
‘Fine.’ He shrugged and then gave that wicked smile. ‘Tell me more about your fiancé, then.’
‘Ex,’ she pointed out.
‘That’s right.’
At the time, the only reason he had guessed her engagement was over had been the lack of a ring and the absence of his calls. There had been no tears from Cecelia or days off and no impact on her efficiency that he’d been able to see.
‘Was it you who ended it?’
Cecelia gave a terse nod.
‘How did he take it?’
‘Luka!’ she warned.
‘I’m just curious. I’ve never been with anyone long enough to be engaged. I can’t imagine getting that close to someone.’ His eyes narrowed a little as he looked at her, still trying, as he had been since the day they had met, to gauge her. ‘Was there someone else involved? Is that why you ended it?’
‘Of course not,’ she bristled.
‘Did you live together?’
‘I really don’t want to discuss my private life,’ Cecelia said. ‘You don’t.’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘No, Luka, you don’t. I might deal with your exes but I know nothing about you—’
‘That’s not true.’
‘How long has your mother been ill?’
His jaw gritted and Cecelia gave a little smirk as she took a sip of her water.
‘Fair enough.’ He watched as she put down her glass and told her a truth. ‘I’m going to miss not getting to know you, though.’
She would miss him far more than he knew.
‘Is there anything I can do to dissuade you from leaving?’ he asked.
She looked up at his voice for his tone had surprised her. She had expected sulky, or manipulative, or for more money to be waved in front of her.
Instead he asked if there was anything he could do to keep her.
‘No.’ Cecelia said, and then she cleared her throat, for the word had come out huskily. ‘Luka, I will be here for another month and I will find the best replacement that I can. I’ll train her myself. It really has been an amazing year but I’m ready for a new challenge.’
‘So I’m no longer a challenge?’
‘Of course you are,’ Cecelia said.
He was actually a constant challenge to her senses—recklessness crept in whenever he was near, which Cecelia had to fight constantly just to keep it in check.
‘How was the bourdeto?’ Cecelia asked as his plate was removed unfinished.
Luka shrugged.
He had far more on his mind than food.
‘What if I promise to stop calling you Cece?’ he suggested. ‘It takes twenty-one days to form a habit.’
‘It actually takes sixty-six days,’ Cecelia corrected. ‘So there isn’t time for that. But thanks for offering.’ And then she smiled, something Cecelia so rarely did.
Rather, she rarely smiled properly, but now, as she did so, Luka watched as she checked herself midway and it dimmed.
For Luka, the fading of her smile felt like summer was ending.
It was, of course.
In a few weeks’ time summer would be gone.
Of course it would come around again, but this summer, this one, would never return.
‘Was Gordon upset when you finished with him?’ Luka asked. ‘And before you tell me that it’s private, I know it is.’
‘So why ask now?’
‘Because you’re the best PA I’ve ever had, and I didn’t want to push you into leaving by getting too personal, but now that you’ve already resigned I don’t have to behave.’
‘Yes, you do,’ Cecelia said, and though her voice remained even there was a flurry of nerves low in her stomach as to what her boldness today had unleashed.
So she answered the question.
‘Yes, he was upset, although, to be honest, I think he was more embarrassed than upset.’
‘No, I imagine he was very upset,’ Luka said in his deep, low voice, and met her eyes. Suddenly the cool breeze from the river felt like a warm one.
At times, Luka would disregard her professional boundaries and flirt with her.
Like now.
That little hint of his silken charm carried from his lips and sent a slow shiver the length of Cecelia’s spine.
‘I’d better get back to the office,’ Cecelia said, ‘and set up for your meeting.’
But he would prefer to linger.
The changing world was waiting and it was nice to be here by the river.
With her.
‘Garcia can wait,’ Luka said.
‘One day he might get tired of waiting.’
‘I doubt it,’ Luka said. ‘Right now he wants to wrap up the purchase.’
‘I thought you wanted a hotel in New York City.’
‘I do,’ Luka said, ‘but at a price of my choosing. Anyway, we need to talk about your replacement.’
‘I’ve informed the agency you generally use,’ Cecelia said, and Luka frowned.
‘You weren’t referred via them?’
‘No.’ Cecelia shook her head.
‘Ah, that’s right, you were working for Justin. How did you end up with him?’
‘Via the agency,’ Cecelia said, and she itched to get back and away from his gaze but Luka wasn’t letting her go just yet.
‘How did you become a PA?’
More questions, Cecelia thought, but this wasn’t such a personal one and so she was a little freer in her response. ‘I never intended to be. When I finished school I had wanted to travel,’ she told him, ‘or go to university, but...’ Cecelia hesitated. ‘My uncle had a friend who needed a nanny in France. I spoke French—well, a little—and he said that way I’d get to travel and work at the same time.’
‘The trust fund ran out, you mean.’
‘Sorry?’ Cecelia blinked.
‘They would have received money to raise you, but once you turned eighteen—’
‘No,’ Cecelia interrupted. ‘It wasn’t like that at all.’ She shook her head. ‘They were very good to take me in.’
‘Did they h
ave children?’
‘No,’ Cecelia said, and she swallowed because she believed they had very much been childless by choice.
Luka’s comments needled for she had always felt rather in the way with her aunt and uncle, not that she’d admit it to him. ‘My uncle had a contact who needed a nanny.’
‘Really, Cece! You? A nanny?’
He could not imagine the very crisp and proper Cecelia working with children and he actually smiled at the very thought, parting those gorgeous lips to show his pearly white teeth.
Gosh, he had such a nice mouth.
‘I hated it,’ Cecelia admitted. ‘I lasted four weeks before I gave notice, but then the mother, a television producer, asked if I could work for her instead. I guess it all started from there.’
‘Do you still see your aunt and uncle?’
‘Of course,’ Cecelia said confidently, although inside she wavered for it had always been her making the effort rather than them.
They hadn’t so much as sent a text for her birthday.
Perhaps a card would have arrived in the mail when she got home.
Or there would be flowers on her doorstep.
Yet she knew there wouldn’t be.
Her birthday had passed by unnoticed again and it hurt.
She would not let Luka see it, of course, but his comment about the trust-fund money drying up had perturbed her.
‘Do you want dessert?’ he asked, knowing the answer.
‘No, thank you.’
‘Tough,’ Luka said. ‘You’re getting one.’
She went to ask what he meant but at that moment the background music wafting out of the restaurant changed to a very familiar tune and she turned as she saw a waiter with a slice of cake and atop it a candle.
The tune was ‘Happy Birthday’!
And it was being played for her.
‘Luka...’
Cecelia was embarrassed.
Pleased.
And utterly caught by surprise.
No one remembered her birthday.
Ever.
As a child, it had fallen in the school holidays and her mother had only liked grown-up parties, certainly not the type Cecelia had dreamed of. And after she had died, Cecelia hadn’t readily made friends. In fact, at boarding school she had been endlessly teased and bullied.
At eighteen, her aunt and uncle had given up on the perfunctory birthday card and last-minute present, which had always, always been something she needed rather than something she might want.
This was the first time that she’d truly been spoiled on her birthday.
There were two spoons and the cake was completely delectable—vanilla sponge drizzled in thick lemon syrup that was both tart and refreshing.
And she was sharing dessert on her birthday with him.
Luka Kargas.
Cecelia was almost scared to look up for she was worried there might be tears in her eyes.
‘Here,’ Luka said, ‘is the other reason I came into the office today.’
Now Cecelia did look up as he went into his jacket and pulled out a gorgeous parcel and slid it across the table.
It was a long box wrapped in deep red velvet and tied with ribbon that had a little gold charm attached to it.
And she frowned because Cecelia recognised the packaging.
On one overseas trip, she had enjoyed staring into the window of a lavish boutique in the foyer of a Florence hotel where they had been staying. Whenever she’d been waiting for Luka, she had indulged herself with the joy of admiring the beautiful jewellery.
She pulled back the bow, but first she had a question for she didn’t quite believe what Luka had said. ‘You didn’t really come in just because it’s my birthday?’
‘Of course I did. I always try to do the right thing on my PA’s birthday.’
Luka knew full well that for Cecelia he had done more than just the right thing. Usually it was flowers and perfume, or a voucher for a spa hotel, but a few weeks ago, on a business trip, he had stepped out of the elevator and Cecelia’s back had been to him. He had looked to where her gaze had been focused and spied the sparkling window display of the hotel boutique.
The next morning she had been looking again.
And the next.
It had sat in his bureau at home for weeks now.
Last night, just after he had fired off the text to say that he wouldn’t be in, he had remembered her birthday.
Luka had been partying hard, trying to forget the news that had come in about his mother, trying to extend the weekend into a long one, just to delay the return home.
And then he had remembered the box inside his bureau.
‘Oh!’ She gave a gasp of recognition when she saw the necklace. ‘How on earth...?’ It was thick and lavish, coiled with rubies, or glass, she wasn’t sure—Cecelia hadn’t even asked the price at the time, for in either case it would have been way out of her league; she had simply adored it, that was all. ‘Luka, it’s far too much.’
‘It can double up as your leaving gift,’ Luka brooded. ‘Do you want to put it on?’
‘No,’ she said too quickly, ‘I’ll wait till I’m home.’
She wouldn’t be able to manage the clasp and she would burst into flames at the touch of his hands if he so much as brushed the sensitive skin of her neck.
The breeze from the river wasn’t helping at all now. The tiny cardigan felt like a thick shawl around her shoulders and she simply didn’t know how to react.
‘How did you even know it was my birthday?’ Cecelia asked, because she hadn’t mentioned it and certainly she hadn’t made a note of it in his diary.
‘I make it my business to know.’ He could see she was shaken and her reaction surprised him. He had thought she’d be more than used to a fuss being made but she actually seemed stunned, even close to tears. ‘I fired a PA once, about ten years ago,’ he explained as a waiter put down two small glasses, a bottle of ouzo and a carafe of iced water on the table between them.
‘No, thank you,’ Cecelia said as he went to pour one for her. ‘You were saying.’
Luka went ahead and added iced water to the ouzo and she watched as the clear liquid turned white.
How she would love to try it, but she had to keep her guard up, for it was becomingly increasingly difficult to remember that this was work.
He did this for all his PAs, Cecelia reminded herself, and forced herself to listen rather than daydream as he told her just why he had made such a nice fuss.
‘As I was firing her she started to cry.’
‘Tears don’t usually trouble you,’ Cecelia said, thinking of the many tears women had shed over him.
‘They don’t,’ Luka said, ‘but as she was clearing out her things she said that it was her worst birthday ever. She was a terrible PA and deserved to be fired, but I didn’t set out to ruin her birthday.’
‘You really felt bad?’ Cecelia checked, pleased that he did have a conscience after all.
‘A bit,’ he agreed. ‘Since then I have tried to keep track. Normally I would have taken you for lunch. In fact, that was what I had planned to do but when it came to it I was sulking too much to do so...’
She smiled again and back came summer.
‘I thought, given it’s your birthday, that you would have plans tonight. That’s why I checked what time you had to leave by.’
‘No, no plans.’
It was her best birthday ever.
Luka couldn’t know that, of course, but even Gordon hadn’t made much of a fuss.
They’d gone for dinner.
But there had been no candles and no cake.
Gordon had bought her a cloying perfume Cecelia hadn’t liked.
It wasn’t so much the lavishness of the gift Luka had given her that made it the best, more the thought behind it.
How he had seen her looking at the necklace.
That he had noticed...
Yes, she was right to leave.
Because of this.
Because of those moments when he put her world to rights and she was utterly and completely crazy about him.
She had grown up with the dour warning that she did not want to end up like her mother and that men like Luka could only lead her down a dangerous path.
Yet, to her shame, it beckoned her at times.
Times like tonight.
When the easiest thing in the world would be to thank him with a kiss.
She knew where it would lead, though, for that was exactly where she wanted it to lead.
And Luka wouldn’t be hard to convince!
He was easy.
That much she knew.
He was, though, at least with her, the perfect gentleman.
Well, not perfect, and not always a gentleman, but from the beginning Luka had, in the main, accepted her boundaries and there had been no overt flirting.
Occasionally he would slip, but he’d quickly rein it in. He wasn’t a sleaze and played only where welcome. More than that, though, his world worked far better with Cecelia in it. He recognised talent and certainly she was brilliant at her job. Luka knew full well that he would lose the best PA he’d ever had if he chased that perpetual want.
And there was want in him.
Yet he knew his own track record, and Luka had never lasted with anyone for more than a month.
But look where behaving had got him, Luka thought.
He’d lost her anyway.
He decided now was the time to find out more about her.
‘How did your mother die?’ Luka asked, though he had already guessed her response—That’s personal, Luka, or, That’s not your concern.
She was about to deliver a response just like that, but then she remembered she was leaving.
Perfection was no longer required now that she had resigned.
And so she told him the truth, or at least the little she knew of it.
‘I believe she took too much cocaine.’
CHAPTER FOUR
OH, CECELIA!
Luka hadn’t expected to find out much at all, let alone that her mother had died from a cocaine overdose.
He thought of her, so prim and controlled, and had assumed her upbringing had caused that. Well, he concluded, it had, but not in the way he had imagined.
Still, he said nothing, because he didn’t want to say the wrong thing, and he desperately wanted to hear more.
Claiming His Hidden Heir Page 4