The next morning, Luca cleared his schedule for the next seventy-two hours. He had a fair bit of making up to do. Not only to Ethan for breaking his promise, but to Annah after his appalling behaviour last night. Self-disgust rattled in him. All the times over the years he’d imagined having her again, and when the opportunity finally came, what did he do? Took her up against the wall of his wardrobe with an utter lack of finesse. Was it any wonder she’d fled?
And yet, incredibly, a silver lining had emerged. A startling moment of clarity that struck as he stood on his moonlit balcony, staring out at the land his son would one day inherit.
A son who did not even bear the Cavallari name.
A son whose parents would bandy him back and forth like a ping-pong ball between England and Sicily for the next fourteen years.
It was unacceptable.
Yet he’d been at such pains to show Annah he was a reasonable man and nothing like his father, he’d ended up willing to compromise and, in the process, short-change his own son.
The answer was so obvious Luca didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to him before last night.
He and Annah would marry. It was the perfect solution. Already they were united by their common goal to protect and provide for their son. Formalising their partnership into a legal, permanent arrangement was simply a logical next step. And their marriage would not be a passionless one. Far from it. Their chemistry was blisteringly hot. Last night had proven that. He couldn’t imagine their attraction ever waning.
His resolve solidified as he sat at the round marble-top table in the sunny warmth of the breakfast room, waiting to see if the invitation he’d extended to Annah and Ethan via Celeste to join him for breakfast would be accepted or rejected. When the two of them finally appeared, relief surged. He rose to his feet as Ethan rushed over, grinning.
‘Hello, Papà.’
Luca blinked, something swelling in his chest—an emotion he couldn’t quite identify—at hearing his son address him for the first time as ‘Papà’.
‘Ciao, figlio mio,’ he said, reaching down, surprised at how natural it felt to lift his child and hold him. He transferred his gaze to Annah and found her watching them, an indecipherable look on her face.
He took in her appearance with an appreciative eye. She wore a soft, cornflower-blue cardigan that matched her eyes, stretchy denim capris, and a pair of cute white espadrilles on her feet. Marvelling at how she made simple clothing look sexy, he brought his gaze back to her face. ‘Good morning,’ he said, noticing her cheeks had flushed a charming pink.
‘Morning,’ she returned, offering a quick smile before her gaze skated away and she sat at the table.
His conscience sustaining another prick of regret over last night, Luca lowered Ethan into a chair beside his mother, where he stayed for all of thirty seconds before leaping off.
‘Nonna!’ he exclaimed, rushing over to greet his grandmother, who’d just entered the room.
Luca put down his coffee and said quietly to Annah, ‘I invited my mother to join us for breakfast. I hope you don’t mind.’
She looked at him, her expression softening as he had hoped it might. ‘Of course not,’ she said. ‘That was thoughtful.’
Ethan tugged Eva by the hand and made her sit next to him at the table.
Observing them, Luca grew aware of an odd pang in his chest. Clearly, grandmother and grandson had bonded in his absence. Lifting his cup, he took a mouthful of espresso and told himself it was foolish to feel jealous.
Annah, who had started pouring orange juice for herself and Ethan, offered one to Eva.
‘Grazie, dear.’ Eva glanced between Luca and Annah. ‘And what plans do you have for today?’
‘I’m taking Annah and Ethan sightseeing,’ Luca said.
Annah looked at him in surprise. ‘You are?’
‘That sounds lovely,’ said Eva.
‘Yay!’ Ethan chipped in. ‘Are you coming, Nonna?’
Eva smiled and, much to Luca’s relief, shook her head. ‘Oh, no. I have some things to do today. But you can tell me all about your day when you get back.’
Over the next half-hour Luca happily discovered that a man was required to say very little in the presence of two women and a talkative child. Coffee in hand, he sat back and listened to Annah and his mother discuss pruning methods, of all things, while his gaze lingered almost exclusively on Annah.
Luca had not lived like a monk these past five years. Building his business in New York had taken priority over everything else, but he had not denied himself the company of women when he desired it.
But no other woman had fired his blood the way Annah did. None had left a permanent imprint on his memory—on his very soul—like she had. The fact that she’d borne his son only made her more desirable. He wanted her in his bed, but he wanted so much more. He wanted to give her his name. His protection. His loyalty.
The more he thought about it, the more certain he grew that marriage was the only sensible solution. The only desirable solution.
Annah belonged here, with him, as much as Ethan did.
All he had to do was convince her.
* * *
Palermo was a vibrant, chaotic city that couldn’t have been further removed from the peace and quiet of Hollyfield. Having not lived in a big city for nearly five years, Annah had got used to the slower pace of the countryside and no longer thought of herself as a city lover, yet she quickly found herself entranced by Sicily’s capital.
To her delight, Luca had instructed his driver to drop them in the heart of the city so they could tour its historic centre on foot.
‘So many different kinds of architecture,’ she remarked, stopping to stare up at a row of three Arabic domes atop an ancient stone church.
Luca looked down at her, rakishly handsome today with his stubble-darkened jaw and sexily ruffled hair. He wore snug-fitting jeans that hugged his powerful thighs, a light grey polo shirt, and designer sunglasses on his face.
He was a walking hazard.
Annah had seen four women trip over their feet while angling for a better look, and one who’d walked straight into a parked moped. Mario had rushed forward from his ever-present position at their rear to help the poor woman; Luca, who at the time was pointing something out to Ethan, was oblivious.
‘Palermo has been invaded more times than any other city in the Mediterranean,’ he told her. ‘Romans, Arabs, Normans, the Spanish and many others—they came, conquered, and left their mark.’
Much like he’d left his mark on her last night, she thought, because no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t forget the glorious feeling of his big body caging hers and the powerful thrust of his hard, hot length inside her. He’d filled her so perfectly, so completely, that when he’d withdrawn she’d felt as if he had taken a piece of her with him.
She cleared her throat. ‘Fascinating,’ she murmured, forcing herself to look away before her eyes betrayed her.
If Luca was having similar troubles forgetting last night’s encounter, it didn’t show. He’d been surprisingly relaxed and charming all morning, even inviting Eva to join them for a family breakfast.
Annah’s heart flip-flopped. Family. Something Ethan had never experienced outside the two-person unit that was him and her. Sitting in the warm, sunny breakfast room, Annah had found herself picturing the table surrounded by happy, noisy children—a brood of little brothers and sisters for Ethan—before she’d yanked her mind back from such a fanciful daydream.
The morning continued to warm up as they walked, the early spring weather milder here than at home where some days still had a wintry nip. The maze of narrow streets teemed with restaurants and al fresco bars and a delightful assortment of artisan boutiques selling everything from hand-crafted leather goods and jewellery to handmade chocolates.
It wasn’t all beautiful. The
old town was full of baroque palazzi—centuries-old palaces built and owned by the Italian aristocracy—some of which stood crumbling and neglected, abandoned and left to ruin or turned into scruffy, overcrowded tenements. But many others retained their original grandeur and were still lived in by their wealthy owners.
The poignant contrast between decadence and decay gave the city a sensual, edgy vibe that seemed to infiltrate Annah’s blood, so that when they came upon a boisterous street market and Luca hoisted Ethan onto his shoulders and then clasped her hand, she didn’t pull away. Instead, she returned his grip and allowed herself to enjoy the contact and the resulting shimmer of heat through her body.
Some of the market’s stallholders were winding down, but others still hawked their wares, shouting over the heads of the crowd. She glanced up at Ethan, worried he might find the noise and the pungent smells of seafood and meats and exotic spices overwhelming. But a wide grin split his face. He was king of the castle, riding high on his father’s shoulders. He looked as happy as she’d ever seen him, and a pang of something she couldn’t quite identify pierced her chest.
As they neared a fruit and vegetable stall, a short, balding man came out from beneath his awning, beaming at Luca, who released her hand to shake the man’s. Annah couldn’t understand the exchange that followed, but she saw how the man’s eyes lit with interest on Ethan, and then her.
Luca reclaimed her hand and said, ‘This is Guido. He doesn’t speak English, but he is very happy to meet you.’
‘Oh.’ Annah sent the man a friendly smile, and he doffed his coppola and grinned back, then said something to Luca.
Luca released a deep baritone laugh before responding.
‘What did he say?’ Annah asked as they waved goodbye and moved off.
His dark eyes gleamed with humour and something else that defied interpretation. ‘He said you are very beautiful.’
‘Oh!’ Annah’s face heated.
‘And...’ Luca leaned close and dropped his voice so Ethan wouldn’t hear ‘...that if I do not plan to make an honest woman of you, he has many strapping sons he can introduce you to.’
Annah’s blush intensified. She covered her embarrassment with a little laugh, wishing she had the courage to ask Luca how he’d responded. Instead, she said, ‘Was that Sicilian you were speaking?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is it quite different from Italian?’
He nodded. ‘My mother is from Naples and speaks only Italian and cannot understand Sicilian.’
‘She never learned?’
He shrugged. ‘There was no need.’
‘But you learned both,’ she observed.
‘Yes. My father insisted. Both Enzo and I were fluent in both languages from a young age.’
Annah discerned a hint of tension in his voice at the mention of his brother, and she stifled the urge to pepper him with more questions. The last thing she wanted was to shatter this good mood of his. She focused instead on the bustling market around them, soaking up its lively, colourful atmosphere.
By the time they stepped inside a quaint trattoria for lunch, her feet cried out for a rest. But she’d loved every minute of exploring the old city on foot. Better than being ferried from place to place in the SUV.
The trattoria was run by an older couple who greeted them effusively and seemed especially happy to see Luca. During the introductions, Annah learnt the couple was Mario’s in-laws. Mario himself had disappeared, she realised. Moments later, he emerged from the rear of the restaurant with a pretty dark-haired woman and an adorable little girl about Ethan’s age. Liliana, Annah guessed, even before her proud papà introduced her.
‘And this is my wife, Mia,’ said Mario.
Mia was warm and friendly, her English better than her parents’, who, like Guido at the market, were fluent only in Sicilian. She led Luca, Ethan, and Annah to a table in a lovely open courtyard and then served them refreshing lemon granita and mouth-watering pizza.
When they’d finished eating, Luca reached for her hand over the table. ‘I need to talk with Mario and his father-in-law.’ His thumb stroked lightly across her knuckles. ‘I won’t be long. Are you happy here for a bit?’
Sensation tingled in her hand from where his thumb stroked, but she met his eyes and told herself for the umpteenth time she was reading too much into his touch. Seeing a depth of intimacy in his dark eyes that wasn’t really there. She smiled. ‘Of course.’
A short while later, from where she sat, Annah could just see the three men, plus a fourth she hadn’t met, huddled at a corner table inside the trattoria. ‘They look serious,’ she said to Mia, who’d come out to join her after Luca left. Ethan and Liliana sat at a separate table, playing with crayons and colouring books and chatting adorably.
Mia sipped her melon granita and nodded. ‘The man next to Mario,’ she said. ‘He is my father’s cousin, Pietro. He runs a dry-cleaning shop.’ She put down her glass. ‘It was firebombed six weeks ago.’
Annah gasped. ‘By vandals?’
‘By the people Pietro refuses to pay protection money to.’
Shock felt like an electric jolt in her chest. ‘That’s terrible,’ she whispered.
Mia shrugged. ‘It happens,’ she said, but her chin went up and something like pride or defiance glowed in her brown eyes. ‘But things are slowly changing here. People are standing up—taking back our city.’ She flashed Annah a smile. ‘Luca has been amazing. When his father died and he came back, people held their breaths, not knowing what to expect. But he is a good man. He paid for Pietro’s shop renovation. And he subsidises a private security service so local businesses can afford to have their premises monitored.’ She gestured with her chin to the men indoors. ‘My Mario—he would protect Luca with his life the same as he would protect Liliana and me.’
Annah’s heart thudded as she tried to absorb it all. ‘Doesn’t it frighten you? That Mario could end up in harm’s way?’
Mia shook her head. ‘I do not worry. The whole world is dangerous, yes? Too many terrorists and people who are loco.’ She circled her fingertip at her temple. ‘But there are good men like ours fighting to make our world a safer, better place. That makes me proud, not afraid.’ She reached over suddenly and squeezed Annah’s hand. ‘Look at our men.’
Annah’s gaze fell on Luca. Even sitting down he looked solid and powerful, his chiselled features stamped with intelligence and authority.
‘They are strong,’ Mia said. ‘Powerful. And they are Sicilian—family is everything.’ Her hand squeezed again. ‘With Luca, you and your son will always be safe.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
ANNAH LEANED OVER the bed, pulled the sheet up to Ethan’s chin and gently kissed his forehead. He didn’t stir, having fallen asleep within seconds of his head hitting the pillow.
Straightening, she stared down at him and pressed her hand to her throat, her emotions tumbling and swirling like fallen leaves caught on a gust of wind.
Her son’s father was a good man. Annah couldn’t deny that simple truth. Not after today. After hearing the things Mia had told her. After watching Luca spend time with their son. He was so determined to be a father to Ethan—a real, hands-on father, not just a wealthy man doling out child support from afar.
It filled her with a cautious sense of joy, yet tore her to bits at the same time. Luca had missed four years of his son’s life while Ethan had been deprived of his father. It was so unfair. She almost wished Franco Cavallari were alive so she could demand to know why he had done what he had.
With a deep breath to steady her emotions, she crept out of the bedroom, slipped her feet into high-heeled sandals, and smoothed her hands down the front of her black trousers. Her first night here she’d teamed the trousers with a black top and worn her hair in a severe style. Tonight, her top was a shimmer of turquoise silk and her hair fell in shining waves to her shoulders
.
She stopped in front of the antique gold-framed wall mirror and studied her face. Did she look different? She felt different. Restless and achy in a way that wasn’t anything to do with tired muscles.
So much about today had deeply moved her. The city, its history, its people. Luca. Even now her heart pounded as she thought of her conversation with Mia. Of the pride and respect in the young woman’s voice as she’d spoken of the men and their stand against corruption. Her fearlessness and utter faith in Mario to keep her and Liliana safe—and her stout belief that Luca would do the same for Annah and Ethan.
A belief Annah realised she shared. Not once today had she worried for her and Ethan’s safety. Luca’s solid, indomitable presence, the gentle strength of his hand around hers, had not only warmed her soul but engendered a sense of comfort and security she’d never experienced before, even as a child.
Especially as a child.
She touched her fingers to her mouth, her skin tingling at the memory of last night’s heated kiss and their urgent, explosive coupling.
Suddenly she understood this restless, achy feeling. Her body was in a state of craving. Crying out to be touched, aching to be filled by the only man she had ever desired.
Abruptly, she pulled her hand down and turned away from the mirror. She needed to focus on Ethan, on what was best for him, not on herself and her own selfish desires.
Downstairs, in the elegant sitting room where she’d sat with Eva last night, Luca and a glass of brandy awaited her.
‘Thank you,’ she said, accepting the crystal tumbler from him, the glint of appreciation in his dark eyes as he surveyed her appearance not escaping her notice. Neither did the fact that he’d shaved or that his hair was damp from a shower—or that he looked stunningly handsome in a pale blue open-necked shirt and charcoal trousers.
Deliberately, she turned her gaze to the open French doors, ignoring the dip and sway of her belly.
‘The night is cool,’ he said, following the direction of her gaze. ‘But it’s pleasant on the terrace with the gas heaters on if you’d like to sit outside?’
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