About the Authors

CAROL MARINELLI recently filled in a form asking for her job title. Thrilled to be able to put down her answer, she put ‘writer’. Then it asked what Carol did for relaxation and she put down the truth—‘writing’. The third question asked for her hobbies. Well, not wanting to look obsessed, she crossed her fingers and answered ‘swimming’—but, given that the chlorine in the pool does terrible things to her highlights, I’m sure you can guess the real answer!

NATALIE ANDERSON adores happy endings, so you can be sure you’ve got happy endings to enjoy when you buy her books, she promises nothing less. She loves peppermint-filled dark chocolate, pineapple juice & extremely long showers, plus teasing her imaginary friends with dating dilemmas! She lives in New Zealand with her gorgeous husband & four fabulous children. If you love happy endings too, come find her on facebook.com/authornataliea, twitter @authornataliea, or natalie-anderson.com

Also By Carol Marinelli

Their Secret Royal Baby

Their One Night Baby

Billionaires & One-Night Heirs miniseries

The Innocent’s Secret Baby

Bound by the Sultan’s Baby

Sicilian’s Baby of Shame

Ruthless Royal Sheikhs miniseries

Captive for the Sheikh’s Pleasure

Christmas Bride for the Sheikh

Also By Natalie Anderson

The Forgotten Gallo Bride

Claiming His Convenient Fiancée

The Throne of San Felipe miniseries

The Secret That Shocked De Santis

The Mistress That Tamed De Santis

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Claiming His Hidden Heir/Princess’s Pregnancy Secret

Claiming His Hidden Heir

Carol Marinelli

Princess’s Pregnancy Secret

Natalie Anderson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09561-7

CLAIMING HIS HIDDEN HEIR/PRINCESS’S PREGNANCY SECRET

Claiming His Hidden Heir © 2018 Carol Marinelli Princess’s Pregnancy Secret © 2018 Natalie Anderson

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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Table of Contents

Cover

About the Authors

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Claiming His Hidden Heir

Back Cover Text

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Princess’s Pregnancy Secret

Back Cover Text

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

About the Publisher

Claiming His Hidden Heir

Carol Marinelli

“Did you forget to tell me about my baby?”

He won’t be denied his heir!

Buttoned-up PA Cecelia Andrews’s resignation released her secret raw desire for her demanding playboy boss, Luka Kargas. One year after his callous dismissal, Cecelia’s hiding an even greater secret—their daughter! She’ll never let coldhearted Luka make her daughter feel unwanted. But when Luka uncovers her deceit, there’s no escaping the consequences of her passionate surrender...

For my great friend Frances Housden

An inspiring woman and wonderful writer.

Love always

Carol xxx

PROLOGUE

HE WOULD NOT be hiring Cecelia Andrews.

Property magnate Luka Kargas had already decided that Candidate Number Two would be his new personal assistant.

‘Ms Andrews is here for her interview,’ Hannah, his current PA, informed him.

‘There’s no need for me to meet her,’ Luka responded. ‘I’ve decided to go with Candidate Two.’

‘Luka!’ Hannah reproached, a little braver now that she was leaving. ‘At least have the decency to see her. She’s been through two extensive interviews with me, and as well as that it’s pouring outside. She had to come across London in the middle of a storm.’

‘Not interested,’ Luka said, because he didn’t buy into sob stories. ‘It’s a waste of my time.’

And a slice of Luka’s time was precious indeed.

But then Luka suddenly remembered that Ms Andrews had been personally recommended by Justin, a contact he wanted to keep onside.

‘Fine, send her in,’ Luka said, deciding to see her briefly but then to get rid of her as soon as he could.

Impatient fingers drummed the desk as he waited, and then Candidate Three was shown in.

‘Ms Andrews.’ Luka stood and shook her right hand, noticing that on her left she wore an engagement ring.

Nothing would induce him to hire her, for she would have to have the most patient fiancé in the world to tolerate the ridiculous hours she would have to devote to him.

And everyone knew his reputation.

He just had to give her a few minutes of his time so he could tell Justin that he had interviewed her but gone with another candidate.

‘Please,’ he said. ‘Take a seat.’

Cecelia knew that although he had called her Ms Andrews he was awaiting correction and an invitation to call her by her first name.

There would be no such invitation to do so.

Ms Andrews would do just fine, Cecelia had decided.

She had read about him, thoroughly researched him, and even been told by his current PA during two prolonged interviews about his bad-boy ways.

‘You would have to deal with his girlfriends, or rather his exes,’ Hannah had explained. ‘It can be quite a juggling act at times. Luka works hard all week and then works just as hard breaking hearts at the weekend.’

Cecelia had seen it all before, and not just through her work. She abhorred the rich, debauched kind of lifestyle he led and with good reason—her mother, Harriet, had lived and died the same way.

Still, Luka Kargas’s morals were his own concern, not hers. Cecelia had her sights set on working for royalty and he was a step in the right direction, that was all.

‘He has a yacht, currently moored in Xanero,’ Hannah had said.

‘That’s where he’s from?’ Cecelia checked, although she had found that out in her research.

‘Yes, though you won’t be expected to travel there with him and you won’t be involved with the family business there. Luka keeps that strictly separate.’

She would not be falling for him, Cecelia had reassured both his incumbent PA and herself. The only thing the career-minded Cecelia wanted from Luka Kargas was his name on her résumé and the glowing reference that, after a year’s hard work, he would surely provide.

But now she had finally met him, and as his long olive fingers had closed around hers, the very sensible Cecelia’s conviction that she would not be attracted to him in the least had wavered somewhat.

‘Hannah said you got caught in the storm,’ Luka frowned.

The skies had darkened just over an hour ago.

Luka, from his vantage point of the fortieth floor, had watched the black clouds gather and roll over London.

Candidate Two had arrived drenched and had asked Hannah for a ten-minute delay before proceeding with the interview.

Usually that would have been enough to ensure a black mark against her name but, having watched the storm himself, Luka had accepted the excuse and the rather bedraggled candidate.

Cecelia Andrews was far from bedraggled, though.

She wore a dark grey suit that was immaculate, her blonde hair, worn up, was sleek and smooth, while her make-up was both discreet and in place.

Hannah had insinuated that a drowned rat sat in the entrance yet the woman who sat before him was far from that.

‘I got caught up in the storm,’ Cecelia said, ‘but I wasn’t caught out—I heeded the warnings.’

And she might want to start heeding them now, she thought, for the impact of him on her senses was like nothing she had ever known.

He wore a dark suit and tie and his crisp white shirt accentuated his olive skin; he hadn’t shaved that morning.

The air in the room had changed, as if the charge that had lit the sky for the past hour had joined them.

Luka Kargas was everything her aunt had warned her about, and though she had told herself she could handle it, and that there was no way she could ever be attracted to someone like him, Cecelia hadn’t allowed for the impact of Luka close up.

They skipped through the formalities, both determined to get this over and done with and move on with the day.

‘Hannah will have explained that the hours are long,’ Luka said.

‘She did.’

‘Sixteen-hour days at times.’

‘Yes.’ Cecelia nodded.

‘And there’s an awful lot of travel,’ Luka said. ‘Though for all that the working week is hell, you do get every weekend off.’

She smiled a tight, slightly disbelieving smile.

‘You do,’ Luka said, as he read those full lips. ‘Come Friday night, the entire weekend is yours.’

‘Though I’m guessing I wouldn’t be out of here by five p.m.?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘Usually around ten.’

So not really the entire weekend to herself, Cecelia thought as his black eyes scanned through her paperwork. ‘Why are you finishing up with Justin?’

‘Because I didn’t want to live in Dubai.’

‘I go there a lot,’ Luka said, ‘which would mean, by default, so would you.’

‘That’s fine. I just don’t want to live there,’ Cecelia said, and she knew, she just knew, he was alluding to the fact she had a fiancé whose needs would have impacted on her decision.

He was right.

Gordon wouldn’t consider it.

‘Do you speak Greek?’ he asked.

‘No,’ Cecelia said, suddenly hoping it was a prerequisite for the role and that this torture would therefore come to an end. It was torture because her stomach seemed to be folding in on itself and she all of a sudden could feel the weight of her breasts. She had never had such a violent reaction to another person, though of course it was one-sided.

Luka Kargas looked thoroughly bored.

‘Do you speak any other languages?’ he asked.

‘Some French,’ Cecelia said, even though she spoke it very well and had both lived and worked in France for a year.

Anyway, he didn’t want her French, whether a little or a lot of it, for he screwed up his nose.

Good, because Cecelia had now decided that she did not want this job.

She liked safe, and for very good reasons.

Cecelia liked her world ordered, and ten minutes alone with Luka Kargas had just rocked hers.

His black eyes were mesmerising and his brusque indifference had her re-crossing her legs.

Until this moment, sex had been a perfectly pleasant experience, if sometimes a bit of a chore.

Now, though, she sat across from a man who made her think of it.

Actually sit and think about torrid, impromptu sex at two p.m. on a Monday afternoon, and that could never do.

‘Ms Andrews...’

‘Cecelia,’ she corrected, but only because she didn’t want to sound like some uptight spinster.

And she wasn’t.

She was engaged to be married, and right now she found herself desperately trying to hold onto that thought.

Oh, this really would never do!

‘Cecelia.’ He nodded. ‘I see that you don’t have any real experience in the hospitality industry.’

‘No, I don’t,’ Cecelia said. ‘Not a jot.’

‘A jot?’ His black eyes looked up and met her green ones and she saw that his were not actually black but the deepest of browns.

‘I don’t have any experience in the hospitality industry, none at all.’

‘And I note that you wear an engagement ring.’

‘Excuse me...’ Cecelia frowned ‘...but you can’t comment on that.’

He waved his hand dismissively.

Luka read her emergency contact and saw that it wasn’t her fiancé but, in fact, her aunt.

And she intrigued him a touch. ‘Are you engaged?’

‘Yes.’ Cecelia bristled. ‘Not that it’s any of your business.’

‘Cecelia, if you are considering working for me, then you might as well know from the outset that I am not known for my political correctness. I’ll tell it to you straight—I don’t want a PA who is in the throes of planning a big wedding, neither I don’t want someone who is going to have to dash off at six because her fiancé is sulking.’

Cecelia’s jaw tightened because at times Gordon did just that.

‘Mr Kargas, my personal life is not your concern and, let me assure you, it never will be.’

Never, because she was not taking the job!

He heard the double meaning behind her words and almost smiled but then checked himself.

‘Come over here,’ he said, and stood up and headed to the floor-to-ceiling windows.

It was like no interview she had ever experienced before, Cecelia thought as she stood and walked over to join him.

Gosh, he was tall.

And he smelt as if he had bathed in bergamot with a testosterone undertone.

‘See the view,’ Luka said.

‘It’s amazing.’ Cecelia nodded, looking out across a gleaming, wet and shiny London. The grey skies were starting to clear and black clouds were lined with silver but there was no rainbow that she could see.

‘It’s all yours,’ Luka said, and Cecelia frowned. ‘When you finish on a Friday, right up to Monday morning the world out there is your oyster.’ Then he looked over at her. ‘But when you’re here...’

He expected devotion. Cecelia got his meaning.

‘When can you start?’ Luka asked.

Before she declined, Cecelia took a deep breath and thought of the perks of this job—a salary that was almost twice her current one, endless travel and the Kargas name on her résumé for ever.

And then she thought of the pitfalls.

Sixty-hour weeks spent beside this stunning man.

Her attraction to him was as unexpected as it was unsettling.

She actually didn’t know what to do.

‘I’d like some time to think about it,’ Cecelia said in response to his offer.

‘Well, I’m looking for someone who trusts their own instincts and can make prompt decisions.’

Luka now wanted her working for him.

She had impressed him when he had not expected to be impressed, yet something told him that if she walked out of the door Cecelia Andrews would not be coming back.

He could feel her hesitation.

And because he was Luka Kargas he knew when to push, and how. ‘So, I’ll ask again, when can you start, Cecelia?’

Never! Her instincts screamed.

Yet she had so badly wanted this job and the challenge it would bring and, though he was undoubtedly attractive, Cecelia knew herself well enough to be certain she would never get involved with anyone at work.

‘Now,’ Cecelia said, shocked at her own decision. ‘I can start now.’

‘Then welcome aboard.’

And as he shook her hand, Cecelia told herself she could handle it.

CHAPTER ONE

LUKA, AFTER CAREFUL consideration I’ve decided...

Waking just before her alarm went off, Cecelia lay listening to the hiss of bus doors opening on the street outside her London flat and working out how best to resign.

And when to do it?

Did she get it over and done with in the morning? Or wait until the end of the day to tell him that she would not be renewing her contract?

Most people would say she was mad to quit.

The pay was amazing, the travel wonderful, if exhausting, but in the eleven months she had worked for Luka, Cecelia had hit the limit on her primness radar.

He was a playboy in the extreme.

And that wasn’t some vague, unsourced opinion.

It was fact.

Cecelia ran his diary after all!

Quite simply, she couldn’t do it any more and so on Friday, as Luka had headed to the rooftop to swan off in his chopper for a debauched weekend in France, Cecelia had reached for her phone and accepted a six-month contract as personal assistant to an esteemed and elderly foreign diplomat.

While the money and perks would be worse in her new job, the peace of mind it would bring was, to Cecelia, worth its weight in gold.

Only as she reached for her phone to check the time did Cecelia see the date and remember that it was her birthday.

There was never much fuss made of it and she had long since told herself to get over that fact. Her aunt and uncle, who had raised her since the age of eight, simply didn’t bother with such things and before she had died, neither had her mother.

She saw that a message had come in overnight from Luka.

Shan’t be in today, Cece. Cancel my meetings and I’ll call you later.

Cecelia ground her teeth at the annoying shortening of her name that she had repeatedly asked him to stop using. But then she frowned, because in the eleven months that she had worked for Luka he had never taken a day off. Luka had a phenomenal workload yet never missed a beat. But now, on the one day she really needed to speak to him, he wasn’t going to be there.

Cecelia wanted her resignation handed in and sorted, and for her time with Luka to be over. As well as that he had an important meeting with Mr Garcia and his entourage in NYC later today. Although it was an online meeting, it had been incredibly hard to set up and it was going to be extremely messy to cancel.

Despite the absence of her boss—in fact, because of the absence of her boss—today was shaping up to be an exceptionally busy one, and so Cecelia forced herself up and out of bed.

She showered quickly and began to get ready.

Her routines were set in stone and, despite the extensive travel and odd hours required by her job, there were certain things that never changed. She could be in Florence, New York, or home in London but these things remained—her clothes were set out the night before, as was her breakfast, which she ate before tackling her hair.

Routines were vital to Cecelia’s sense of well-being, for during the first eight years of her life, when she had lived with her mother, chaos had been the only certainty.

The reddish fire to Cecelia’s strawberry blonde mane had, courtesy of foils, been dimmed to a neutral blonde. She smoothed and sleeked out her long curls and then tied them back into a neat, low ponytail.

Next, Cecelia applied her make-up.

She didn’t wear much, but as Luka’s PA it was expected that she was always well turned out.

It wasn’t always the case. A famous actress she had once worked for had insisted that Cecelia wear no make-up whatsoever as well as extremely plain clothing. With another employer, for practical reasons, her wardrobe had mainly consisted of boots and jeans.

Cecelia’s skin was pale and needed just a dash of blusher to liven it up. She added a coat of mascara to her lashes, which enhanced her deep green eyes, but, as she did so, a rather bitchy voice coming from the radio caught her attention.

‘What on earth did she expect, getting mixed up with Luka Kargas?’

Cecelia stabbed herself in the eye with the mascara wand at the sound of her boss’s name.

It wasn’t so much that it was a surprise to hear Luka mentioned, more an annoyance that even at seven a.m. and alone in her bedroom still there was no escape from him.

Luka was extremely prominent and, although his name often graced the finance reports, his antics and bad-boy ways were regularly discussed in the tabloids and on the news.

They were having a field day discussing him now!

It would seem that he had used every last second of the weekend to create his own particular brand of havoc. A wild party had taken place aboard his yacht, currently moored off the coast of Nice, on Friday.

Cecelia sat at her dressing table, lips pursed as she heard that the raucous celebrations had continued on to Paris, where Luka and selected guests had hit the casinos. Now it was a case of tears after bedtime for some supermodel who had hoped that things might be different between herself and Luka.

Well, more fool her, then, Cecelia thought.

Everyone knew Luka’s track record with women.

But they didn’t really know Luka—there was a private side to him that no one, and certainly not his PA, had access to.

From what Cecelia could glean, Luka had led a very privileged life. His father owned a luxurious resort in Xanero. The famed Kargas restaurant there was now the flagship venue of its own very exclusive brand in several countries. Luka, though, focused more on expanding the hotel side of things and lived life very much in the fast lane. He dated at whim and discarded with ease and all too often it was Cecelia mopping up the tears or fielding calls from scorned lovers.

Yes, he was a playboy in the extreme.

And he unsettled her so.

Cecelia had once glimpsed that life.

Her mother Harriet’s death had been intensely embarrassing for her well-to-do family for she had died as she’d lived and had gone out on a high—knickers down and with the proverbial silver spoon up her nose.

Harriet had left behind a daughter with whom no one had quite known what to do. Her father’s name did not appear on the birth certificate and Cecelia had glimpsed him just once in her life.

And she never wanted to see him again.

Cecelia’s staid aunt and uncle, who had always sniffed in disapproval at Harriet’s rather bohemian existence, had, on her death, taken in the child. With tangled curls and sparkling green eyes, little Cecelia had been a mini replica of her mother, but in looks only.

The little girl had craved routine.

In fact, it had been a very young Cecelia who had kept any semblance of order in her mother’s life.

She had put out her own school uniform and taken money from her mother’s purse to ensure there was food, and she’d always got herself up in the morning and made her own way to school.

After an unconventional start, Cecelia now lived a very conventional life and was efficient and ordered. Even though she travelled the globe with her work, she was generally in bed by ten on weekdays and eleven at weekends.

She had perfectly nice friends, though none close enough to remember her birthday, and this time last year she had been engaged.

Gordon and the break-up had been the only problem she had caused for her aunt and uncle, who could not fathom why she might end things with such a perfectly decent man.

It hadn’t been Gordon’s fault, and she had told him so when she’d ended it.

It was bloody Luka’s!

Though of course Cecelia hadn’t told Gordon that.

Still, there wasn’t time to dwell on it this morning.

She pulled on her flesh-coloured underwear and then glanced out of the window where the sun split a very blue sky, and found she simply could not face putting on the navy linen suit that she had laid out last night.

To hell with it!

Given that Luka wouldn’t be in the office today, and that she wouldn’t now be sitting in on meetings, Cecelia made an unplanned diversion to her wardrobe.

She wasn’t exactly blinded by colour. But there was the dress she had bought to wear to a friend’s wedding she had recently attended.

It had been a rare impulse purchase.

It was a pale cream halter neck, which Cecelia had decided as soon as she’d left the boutique was too close to white and might offend the bride.

She loved it, though, and, maybe because it was her birthday, she decided to wear it.

While it showed rather too much of her back and arms, she took care of that with the pale lemon, sheer, bolero-style cardigan she had bought on the same day.

The dress was mid-calf-length so she didn’t bother with stockings, and then she tied on some espadrilles.

Yes, perhaps because Cecelia knew she would soon be leaving Kargas Holdings she was finally starting to relax.

As she closed the front door to her flat, Cecelia decided that despite Luka’s absence she would still be giving in her notice today. It would be far easier to do it over the phone or online.

‘You’re looking very summery,’ Mrs Dawson, her very nosy neighbour, said as she passed her in the hall. ‘Off to work?’

‘I am.’

The pale lemon bolero didn’t even make it past the escalators to the underground. It was hot and oppressive and as she stood, holding a rail, she saw that Luka’s weekend escapades had made headlines on the newspaper a commuter held.

She looked at the photo beneath the headline. It was of Luka on the deck of his yacht moving in on a sophisticated, dark-skinned beauty. His naked chest and thick black hair were dripping water over the woman and though their bodies did not touch it was an incredibly intimate shot.

Cecelia tore her eyes from the picture and stared fixedly ahead but that image of him seemed to dance on the blacked-out windows of the Tube.

Having left the underground, Cecelia walked towards the prominent high-rise building that housed Kargas Holdings. She smiled at the doorman and then entered the foyer and took the elevator. She had a special pass that allowed her to access the fortieth floor, which was Luka’s in its entirety.

There weren’t just offices and meeting rooms, there was also a gym and pool, though Cecelia couldn’t recall him using them—they were more a perk for the staff.

And there was a suite that was every bit as luxurious and as serviced as any five-star hotel. When in London, Luka often slept there when he chose to work through the night or had a particularly early morning flight.

Yes, it was his world that she entered, but knowing that he wasn’t there meant Cecelia breathed more easily today.

It was just before eight and it would seem that she had beaten Bridgette, the receptionist, to work. There were a couple of cleaners polishing windows and vacuuming and the florists had arrived, as they did each morning to tend the floral displays.

Cecelia made a coffee from the espresso machine before heading to her desk that was housed in a large area outside Luka’s vast office.

The gatekeeper, Luka called her at times, though she felt rather more like a security guard at others.

As well as greeting his clients and guests, Cecelia was the final hurdle for his scorned lovers to negotiate if they somehow made it past the security in place downstairs.

Occasionally it happened, though generally Cecelia fielded them by phone.

And there it was again, springing to mind—the sudden image of him, wet from the ocean and dripping water, and Cecelia shook her head as if to clear it.

She hung her little cardigan on a stand and was just about to take a seat when his voice caught her completely unawares.

‘Is that coffee for me, Cece?’

Cecelia swung around and there, strolling out of his office, was Luka. Apart from being unshaven there was little evidence of his wild weekend on display. He wore black pants and a white fitted shirt that showed off his toned body and his thick black hair, which, though perhaps a little tousled, still fell into perfect shape.

And he was not supposed to be here.

‘I thought you weren’t coming in today,’ Cecelia said.

‘Why would you think that?’

‘Because you texted me in the middle of the night and told me you weren’t.’

‘So I did.’

He looked at the usually poised and formal Cece caught unawares. To many it might seem no big deal—she was simply holding a coffee and wearing a summer dress. Usually she was buttoned to the neck in navy or black, but it wasn’t just her clothing that was different today.

‘Thanks,’ he said, and took from her hand the coffee she had made.

‘It’s got sugar in it,’ she warned as she took a seat at her desk, ‘and, please, it’s Cecelia, not Cece.’

‘Habit,’ he said.

‘Well, it’s a very annoying one.’

Good, Luka thought.

Her cool demeanour incensed him.

His choice of name for her was deliberate, for he loved to provoke a reaction, even if it was only mild.

‘How was your weekend?’ she asked politely, pretending of course that she had heard nothing whatsoever about it.

‘Much the same as the last,’ he answered, and then came over behind Cecelia’s desk and, to her intense annoyance, he lowered himself so that his bottom was beside her computer. ‘Do you ever get bored?’ he asked.

‘Not really,’ Cecelia lied, for she had realised she had been bored with Gordon.

He had also worked in the City and they had fallen into a pattern of meeting for drinks on Wednesday, allowing time to catch up with friends on a Friday. It had generally just been the two of them on a Saturday, followed by a vague hint of an orgasm that night and generally a boring drive on Sunday with a pub lunch somewhere.

And then perhaps another anti-climactic tryst that night.

It hadn’t been Gordon’s fault.

Cecelia held back in sex just as she held back in life.

In fact, the fault lay with the man now lounging against her desk, for he had opened her eyes to sensations that should surely remain unexplored.

Oh, she should never have taken the job, Cecelia thought as Luka persisted with a conversation she would rather draw to a close.

‘But don’t you ever get tired of doing the same old thing?’ he asked.

‘I like the same old things,’ Cecelia answered.

He glanced at her neat, ordered desk and knew that the inside of her drawers would look exactly the same.

And then, just to annoy her, just to provoke some reaction, he picked up her little pottery jar that held her pens and things and moved it to the other side of her desk. ‘Live a little.’

‘No, thank you.’ She smiled grimly and moved the jar back where it belonged. As she did so he got the scent of freshly washed hair.

That was it.

Cecelia didn’t wear perfume; there were no undertones that he could note, and not just in her scent.

She was impossible to read, unlike any woman Luka had ever met. He had long ago given up flirting with her—the disapproval in her eyes kind of ruined the fun.

And as reckless as he was, Luka only ever played with the willing.

‘You look nice,’ he told her, and he felt the scold of her slight frown for daring to comment on something personal. Cecelia kept things very strictly business, yet she responded politely.

‘Thank you.’

But Luka did not leave it there. ‘You’re wearing a dress.’

‘That’s very observant of you, Luka.’

‘I’m just mentioning it because you don’t usually.’

‘Well, it’s been a long, warm weekend. I couldn’t face wearing a suit.’

‘No, but—’

‘Luka,’ Cecelia interrupted him, ‘if you have an issue with me dressing more casually than normal, then please just say so and it won’t happen again.’

‘I have no issue with you wearing a dress.’

‘Then there’s nothing to discuss.’

‘Are you sure about that?’ Luka said. He hadn’t intended to address this today but clearly the moment was upon them.

‘What I wear—’ Cecelia started to say, but then Luka cut in.

‘Do you have another dental appointment today, Cecelia?’ His voice had changed and he delivered his words with a threatening edge by using her correct name. ‘A final interview perhaps?’

He was rather certain that she was leaving, and more certain now because to her pale cheeks there came a very rare flush.

PAs came and went.

Luka was very used to that.

He was an exceptionally demanding boss and was aware that few could keep up with his impossible schedule for very long.

Usually all he required was for the incumbent PA to train the next one to standard before she left and ensure that the handover was seamless.

That Cecelia might be about to leave, though, brought a sense of disquiet like nothing he had known.

He liked her in his life, Luka realised, and he didn’t want her to be gone. But three prolonged dental appointments in recent weeks had served as ominous signs, and he’d been certain of it when she had avoided discussing the renewal of her contract.

‘Is there something you’ve been meaning to tell me?’ he asked.

‘Actually, yes.’ She took a breath and then glanced over at the sound of the elevator door opening and saw that Bridgette had arrived.

Cecelia did not want an audience for this.

‘Would it be possible to have a word in private?’

‘Of course,’ Luka said. ‘You know my door is always closed.’ When she didn’t smile at his little joke he stood from the desk. ‘Come on through.’

Luka decided he would have to talk her out of it.

And he knew just how to do it.

CHAPTER TWO

IT FELT LIKE a very long walk to his office.

Luka led the way and Cecelia actually felt a little sick because she still wasn’t certain that it was the right thing to do.

Cecelia was very career minded and knew that by resigning she was throwing an amazing role away—Luka’s empire was rapidly expanding, with hotels in New York City and Singapore on the cards, and to be a part of it would be amazing on her résumé.

But as he held open the door and she walked in, Cecelia knew she had little choice but to leave.

She could feel his eyes on her back.

On her skin.

They most certainly were.

Cecelia had the drabbest wardrobe he had ever seen.

Granted, she was always groomed and elegant, but Luka had long ago decided that she could make a modest outfit out of a handkerchief.

Not so today.

On the day she would tell him that she was leaving, he got the first glimpse of her spine.

Her back was incredibly pale, and he wondered if she should check her Vitamin D levels because he was sure that body rarely, if ever, saw the sun.

Luka had run into her out of work once and she’d been dressed in much the same monotonous, drab tones.

It had been at a museum exhibition a couple of weeks after she had started working for him, and not quite by accident. Luka had heard her discussing going with her fiancé and he’d wanted to see what made Cecelia tick, sexually speaking.

Pale English men, with skinny legs apparently.

They hadn’t even been holding hands and had stood as politely as two strangers while admiring an incredibly erotic work of art.

She’d jumped when she’d seen him, though! And blushed just a touch as she’d introduced Gordon to him.

And all the more Luka had wanted to know her in bed.

‘Please,’ he said now. ‘Take a seat.’

Luka gestured to a chair and then went around his desk while Cecelia took her seat.

And then she faced him.

He really was a very beautiful man.

Aside from fancying him rotten and everything, Luka Kargas really was exquisite to look at.

Those velvet eyes awaited hers but she could not quite meet them and she took in the high cheekbones and full plump mouth.

Cecelia liked mouths.

Gordon’s had been a bit small and pinched but she had only really thought that after she had seen Luka’s.

No, she should never have taken the job in the first place.

The very second she’d entered his luxurious office and he had stood to greet her, Cecelia had known she should turn and run.

Until that point, she and Gordon had seemingly ticked every box, yet that had changed the moment she’d shaken hands with Luka.

She had known that she had to end her engagement the night she had come back from the museum and while being intimate with Gordon had found herself imagining Luka instead.

It had been the best orgasm of her life!

Luka was everything that her aunt had warned her about.

Despite somehow knowing it could only end badly, and that she should leave now, instead she had taken the job.

And now she was here.

About to resign.

‘There is something you wish to discuss?’ Luka said, and she nodded.

It was all very formal and deliberately so, for Luka was not about to make this easy on her.

Quite simply he had never known a better PA and he did not want that to change.

He wanted Cecelia to stay and Luka always got what he wanted.

‘So?’ he invited. ‘What is it that you have to say?’

It wasn’t the first time she had handed in her notice and Cecelia was about to deliver her well-rehearsed lines yet she just sat there in strained silence. For when he held her gaze, as he did now, there felt like a limit on the oxygen in the vast room and superfluous words were rather hard to find.

‘I’m leaving.’

‘Pardon?’ Luka checked, and cocked his head a little, as if he hadn’t heard. He would make her say it again, and more explicitly this time.

‘I shan’t be renewing my contract.’ After such an appalling start the words now came tumbling out. ‘I’ve given it considerable thought and though it’s been an amazing year I’ve decided that it’s time to move on.’

‘But for all your considerable thought, you haven’t discussed it with me.’

‘I don’t need your permission to resign, Luka.’

Oh, this wasn’t going well, Cecelia thought as she heard the snap in her voice.

Yet she was almost at breaking point and that was verified when Bridgette buzzed.

‘There’s a woman called Katiya down in Reception, asking to see you, Luka...’

He rolled his eyes. ‘I’m busy.’

‘She’s very insistent. Apparently you’ll know why.’

‘Tell Security that whoever lets her up will be fired.’

He looked over at Cecelia. ‘Why can’t women take no for an answer?’

‘Why can’t my boss?’

‘Touché,’ he conceded and then decided to play the sympathy card, ‘Cecelia, one of the reasons I changed my mind about taking the day off was that I have just found out my mother is very unwell.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Cecelia said. ‘If there’s any...’ She stopped and then she closed her mouth rather than continue.

‘You were saying?’ Luka checked, and when she didn’t respond he spoke for her. ‘Because actually there is something you can do for me. Cece, I am going to be away a lot in the coming months. My mother has cancer and will be undergoing extensive treatments...’

She felt her own rapid blink.

Luka never spoke of his family.

Ever!

‘I am going to have to spend a lot of time in Xanero. You’re an amazing PA and I hope you know how much I appreciate you.’ He saw the swallow in her throat and went in for the kill. ‘At this difficult time, I don’t want to deal with someone new.’

‘Luka, I am sorry to hear that your mother is unwell but it doesn’t sway my decision.’

She really was as cold as ice, and yet, and yet...as he looked across the desk he could see tension in her features and that those gorgeous green eyes could not meet his.

‘Can I ask you to stay on for another six months? Naturally you’ll be reimbursed...’

‘Not everything is about money, Luka.’

He saw her green eyes flash and knew full well she thought him nothing more than a rich playboy.

She knew nothing about his start in life and Luka certainly wasn’t about to enlighten her.

No one knew the truth.

Even his own parents seemed to believe the lie that had long been perpetuated—that the resort on Xanero Island and the original famous Kargas restaurant housed within it had given Luka his start in life.

Well, it hadn’t.

Sex had.

Affluent holidaymakers looking for a thrill had first helped Luka to pave his way from near poverty to the golden lifestyle he had now.

The more sanitised PR version was that the first Kargas restaurant had given Luka his start.

Lies, all lies.

Not that he had any reason to tell Cecelia that.

Luka did not have to explain himself to his PA.

‘What if I offered more annual leave?’

‘I’ve already accepted another role.’

And so, when being nice and accommodating didn’t work, Luka grew surly. ‘With whom?’

‘I don’t need to answer that.’

‘Actually, Cece—’

‘Don’t call me that!’ she reared. ‘Luka, on the one hand you tell me how much you appreciate the work I do and yet you can’t even be bothered to get my name right.’

Finally he had his reaction.

‘So you’re leaving because I don’t call you by your correct name?’

‘No.’

‘Then why?’

‘I don’t have to answer that.’

‘Actually Ce-cel-i-a—’ he drawled every syllable of her name ‘—if you look at your contract you cannot work for any of my rivals for a period of a year and you cannot—’

‘Don’t.’ She halted him. ‘Luka, I am allowed to leave.’

She was.

‘Of course you are.’ He just didn’t like that fact.

‘I’ve got four weeks left on my contract and naturally I’ll start looking for my replacement straight away. Unless you have anyone particular in mind?’

‘I’ll leave all of that to you.’

‘Sure.’

He flicked his hand in dismissal and Cecelia read the cue and headed out, though she did not return to her desk.

Once alone in the quiet of the bathrooms she leant against one of the cool marble walls.

She’d done it.

Possibly it was the worst career move she would ever make, but soon sanity would be restored to her mind.

No longer would she stand on a busy Tube in rush hour, wishing that somehow she was the woman lying beneath that depraved, beautiful face as he leaned in for a kiss...

No more would she have to breathe through her mouth when he was close just to avoid a hit of the heady scent of him.

Finally, the clenching low in her stomach at his lazy smile would dissipate.

Order would be restored to the chaos he had made of her heart.

Not yet, though.

It really was an awful day.

Flowers were delivered for Luka that Cecelia signed for, and then stupidly she read the card.

Oh, the offer from Katiya was very explicit.

And if he would just give her the elevator code then Katiya could come right up now, it would seem, and get straight on her knees.

Cecelia returned the card to the envelope and took them in to him.

‘A delivery for you.’

‘From?’

‘I have no idea.’

He opened the card and then tossed it.

‘Have them if you want,’ he said, gesturing to the flowers.

‘No, thank you.’

‘Then put them somewhere that I can’t see them.’

In case you get tempted? Cecelia wanted to ask.

But of course she didn’t.

And then the downstairs receptionists messed up and a call was put through to Luka, but thankfully she was in his office at the time and it was Cecelia who answered it.

‘I just need to speak to him...’ a woman, presumably Katiya, sobbed.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Kargas isn’t taking any unscheduled calls,’ Cecelia duly said.

Luka didn’t even look up from his computer.

‘What time do you have to finish today?’ he asked when she ended the call.

‘Any time,’ Cecelia said, surprised by the unusual question, because Luka never usually bothered to ask. ‘Why?’

‘I want you to move the meeting with Garcia to the close of business there.’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

‘And I need you to sort out my flight tomorrow to Xanero. I’ll be away for a couple of weeks.’

‘A couple of weeks?’ Cecelia checked, because for him to be away for that length of time was unheard of. Luka used his jet the way most people used public transport.

‘I already told you,’ Luka said and his voice was curt. ‘My mother is ill.’

With his flight arranged, Luka rang Sophie Kargas and told her that her only child would be back tomorrow.

‘One thing,’ Luka said. ‘I shan’t be there to hold your hand and watch you give in. You’re going to fight this.’

‘Luka, I’m tired, I don’t want any fuss. I just want you to come home.’

He could hear the defeat in her voice and he knew only too well the reason. The treatment would mean regular trips to Athens and Theo Kargas liked his wife to be at home.

Yes, it was a very long and difficult day spent avoiding each other as best they could but the tension hung heavy in the air at the office.

‘I have your mother on the phone,’ Cecelia said as afternoon gave way to evening.

‘Tell her I’m in a meeting.’

‘Of course.’

He really was a bastard, Cecelia decided as she relayed the message to the feeble-sounding woman.

‘But I just need to speak with him for a moment.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Cecelia said. ‘Luka can’t take any calls right now. I know he’s busy trying to clear up as much of his schedule as he can today.’

Luka sat with his hands behind his head and his feet on the desk.

He could not face speaking to his mother again today and hearing how she had as good as given up on life.

Well, he would deal with all that tomorrow, for what Luka had to say would be better said face to face.

Leave him.

It wouldn’t be the first time he had said it to his mother, but he hoped it would be the last.

Always he had hoped that his father would die first, if only to afford his mother some peace.

He glanced at the time and saw that it was approaching seven.

The meeting with Garcia was now scheduled for ten.

Luka got up and put on his jacket and then headed out of the office.

Cecelia didn’t look up; instead she carried on tapping away on her computer, pretending she hadn’t noticed him.

‘Truce,’ Luka said, and he saw her shoulders drop a little as her tense lips relaxed in a small smile.

‘Truce,’ Cecelia said, and she looked up at him.

‘Let’s go and get dinner.’

Her heart dropped.

Not that she showed it.

Cecelia wanted this day to be over.

More than anything she loathed going to dinner with him.

Or rather she loved going to dinner with him.

Luka was incredibly good company.

But that only made it all so much worse.

CHAPTER THREE

‘I’LL JUST GO and freshen up,’ Cecelia said and reached for her bag.

‘Sure.’

He was lounging on her desk again and she had to step over his long legs to get past.

In the luxurious bathrooms of Kargas Holdings, Cecelia stared in the mirror and told herself that in four weeks this slow torture would be over.

She retied her hair and topped up her lipstick and, unable to help herself, checked her phone to see if her aunt—or anyone—had messaged her for her birthday.

No.

As disappointing as it was about her aunt and uncle, the real truth was that Cecelia could think of nothing nicer than going out for dinner with Luka on her birthday.

Except this wasn’t a date—she was going out with her boss for a work dinner and Cecelia knew she would have to spend the next couple of hours constantly reminding herself of that fact.

When she came out, Luka was standing, waiting, and she felt his eyes on her as she retrieved her little bolero and put it on.

God, but he loathed it.

It was the colour of mustard and he’d far prefer to see her pale flesh. He would love to tell her just that, but with Cecelia he was constantly on his best behaviour.

‘Ready?’ he checked, and she nodded.

‘Ready.’

His driver delivered them to a gorgeous Greek restaurant on the river that had recently opened.

‘Time to check out the competition,’ Luka said as they were led to a beautifully set table, but Luka refused it.

‘We’ll eat outside,’ he said.

They were soon seated at a beautiful spot overlooking the river.

‘The music would drive me crazy in there,’ Luka told her, though the real reason was that they had the air-conditioning cranked up and he wanted her to be rid of that cardigan.

What the hell was wrong with him, Luka thought, that he would sit outside just for the thrill of seeing her upper arms.

Her arms!

‘Here’s perfect,’ Cecelia said as she took her seat. ‘There’s a lovely breeze from the river.’

‘Of course there is,’ Luka said, but she didn’t understand his wry smile.

It certainly wasn’t the first time they had eaten together, although it wasn’t often that they did. When they travelled, Cecelia had taken to having her breakfast sent to her hotel room as she could not bear to see him breakfasting with whomever he was seeing at the time.

Often, when away, she and Luka had lunch together but generally there were guests or clients involved.

As for dinner?

She had no idea, neither did she want to know what Luka did by night and so, when away, and the working day had ended, she generally opted for room service.

Now she looked through the menu but could not concentrate for she was certain he would again try to dissuade her from leaving.

He didn’t, though, and instead he selected the wine.

‘What would you like?’

‘Not for me.’ Cecelia said.

‘Of course not.’ He rolled his eyes. Heaven forbid she relax in his company, but he asked for sparkling water.

She gave her order to the waiter, which, despite its fancy wording, was basically a tomato salad.

Luka ordered bourdeto.

She had seen it on the menu and read that it was made with scorpion.

Apt, for there would be a sting in his tail and she could feel it.

Oh, the surroundings were beautiful and the conversation polite but she could feel her own tension as she awaited attack. For Luka did not give in easily, that much she knew.

Life was a chessboard to him and every move was planned.

Now that his mother was ill, he had very good reasons to want an efficient PA, one capable of steering the helm while he was away.

Yes, she was braced, if not for attack then for the silk of his persuasion. But she must not relent, not now that she had finally had the courage to hand in her notice.

‘A taste of home,’ he said as their dishes were served.

‘Will it be nice to be there?’ Cecelia asked. ‘Aside from the difficult news, I mean.’

Luka just shrugged.

‘Will you be staying with your family?’ she asked. She wasn’t probing, she told herself, for there were arrangements to be made that would undoubtedly fall to her.

‘The resort is huge. They have a villa there but on the other side to mine.’

‘What’s it like in Xanero?’

‘The island is stunning.’

‘It’s still a family business?’ Cecelia checked.

‘Yes.’ It wasn’t an outright lie but there was so much he left unsaid.

‘Your father’s still the chef there?’

Luka didn’t answer straight away.

The truth was, his father had never been the chef there. Well, once, for the briefest of times.

It was all part of an elaborate charade that Luka went along with, only so that his mother could hold her head up in town.

‘He’s semi-retired,’ Luka said, and that wasn’t really a lie—Theo Kargas had spent his adult life semi-retired. Still, rather than talk about home he moved the subject to the upcoming weeks. Not everything had been cancelled. Luka would be working online and there was a trip to Athens he would keep. It was doable yet it was complex as Luka was booked out weeks and months ahead of time, so there was never much room for manoeuvre.

‘I’ll tell Garcia that the trip to New York will have to wait.’

‘He won’t like it.’

‘Good,’ Luka said. ‘You know what they say about treating them mean to keep them keen. He needs me far more than I need him, yet he has started to forget that! Still, perhaps we can go when I return.’

‘Of course.’ Cecelia nodded. ‘When you know more how things are at home I’ll schedule it again. Hopefully by then your new PA will be on board and he or she can go along too.’

He didn’t like the sound of that.

Luka looked over to where she sat, sipping on sparking water with that mustard-coloured cardigan covering cream shoulders, and still he wondered what made her tick.

Cecelia intrigued him.

She was as cold as ice and so buttoned up and formal that, even though he knew she’d been engaged, he privately wondered if she was a virgin, for he simply could not imagine her in bed.

But on occasion he found himself imagining it anyway!

‘What happened to Gordon?’ Luka suddenly asked.

Her silence was a pointed one.

‘Come on,’ he said, ‘you’re leaving—I can ask now.’

‘I like to keep my private life private,’ Cecelia said, stabbing an olive with her fork.

‘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 have 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.

Cecelia liked his patient silence. There wasn’t so much as a flicker of reaction that she could read in his expression as she revealed the dark truth, and Cecelia inwardly thanked him for that. ‘She was at a party, I’ve been told.’

‘Was it a one-off—?’ he started to ask, but Cecelia cut in.

‘No, it was a regular occurrence. My mother loved to party, she lived a very debauched life.’

‘And you lived with her?’

‘I did.’ Cecelia nodded.

‘What was that like?’

She wanted warm memories of her early childhood.

Cecelia wanted to say that in spite of everything there had been so many amazing times and that despite her mother’s ways she’d been loved.

Yet she could not, and so she described what it had been like to live with her mother. ‘Unsafe.’

Yes, he understood her a little better now.

He thought of her neat desk and tidy drawers and her utter reluctance to unbend and have fun, but now he watched as she reached for her purse and stood.

‘We had better get back,’ Cecelia told him, deciding that she had said far too much.

‘No, sit,’ Luka said, but she shook her head.

‘I don’t have time to sit by the river and reminisce,’ Cecelia said. ‘And neither do you. You have a meeting with Garcia at ten.’

‘I’ve already said he can wait.’

Well, she wouldn’t.

Cecelia walked off swiftly, embarrassed and unsure why she had told him about her mother when usually she did all she could to conceal that side of her past.

Usually she loathed people’s reactions to it—their shocked expressions and the recriminations. She felt like crying as she remembered her so-called friends’ reactions at boarding school when they had stumbled on the salacious news articles and the endless dissection of her mother’s death.

Schooldays had certainly not been the best times of Cecelia’s life.

They had read out every embarrassing detail to each other with relish as she had lain in her bed in the dorm, night after night. And then had come the endless questions.

‘Was it a party or an orgy your mother was at?’ Lucy, the ringleader had asked. ‘And what do they mean by “compromising position”?’

It hadn’t been much better during term breaks. Cecelia’s pace quickened as she thought of her aunt and uncle. They had rarely mentioned her mother and when they had they’d spoken in disapproving tones.

The deeper truth was that home had been no better, because actually her aunt and uncle had rarely spoken to her at all.

As for Gordon—well, with him, her mother had been she who must not be named, just a sordid part of Cecelia’s past that was best forgotten.

Yet Luka had wanted to know more about it.

‘Wait,’ he called, and though she did not slow down he soon caught up with her. ‘Why walk off when we’re talking?’

‘Because there’s work to do, because...’ You’re work.

Constantly she had to remind herself of that fact.

Four more weeks of this felt too long, but then Cecelia reminded herself that he would be away for the next two.

She would be mad to get involved with him.

Mad.

She wasn’t flattering herself to believe she could have him.

Cecelia also knew Luka well enough to know it would only be for a night, or a couple of weeks at best.

Cecelia knew, absolutely, how it would end—indifference, then avoidance—for she had seen it all too many times, and the trouble was that she did not know how she would recover.

She had never felt such violent emotions about someone before.

Luka Kargas was her one weakness and that would never do.

And so, after their gorgeous riverside dinner, they took the elevator back up in silence. Back in the office, she went to set up for the meeting that had been rescheduled and delayed over and over again. She made sure his notes were on his desk and she tried to ignore the rich scent of him as she chatted online with Stacey, who was Mr Garcia’s PA.

‘He’s going to be another half-hour,’ Stacey said, and Cecelia inwardly groaned for she just wanted this day to be over with. ‘Are you able—?’ Her voice cut off and the screen went black, and only then did Cecelia register that Luka had deliberately turned the computer off.

‘What on earth are you doing?’ she asked.

‘I don’t like to be kept waiting.’

‘But you were the one who cancelled this morning’s meeting.’

‘So...’ Luka shrugged ‘...tomorrow you can say that we lost the connection. I can’t sit through a meeting about figures now.’

‘Fine,’ Cecelia snapped.

This bloody meeting had been moved and delayed so many times that she wondered how anyone did business with him.

Yet she knew the answer.

Luka was brilliant.

And they would wait.

‘I want to talk to you,’ Luka said.

‘Is it about work?’ Cecelia asked.

‘No.’

‘Then there’s nothing to discuss. I’ll go and pack for you,’ Cecelia said. ‘And then I’ll be off.’

She headed to his suite.

Usually it took five minutes to pack for him as she had it down pat, but he wasn’t going away for business and his wardrobe here consisted mainly of suits, shirts and ties.

She stood in his suite looking at his wardrobe for a moment as if more choices might appear, and then headed out.

He was sitting on her desk, as he had been this morning, only she chose not to sit down this time.

‘I don’t know what to pack,’ she admitted. ‘Are you staying here tonight?’

Luka nodded.

‘Then I can go to your apartment and select a more casual wardrobe. I’ll bring your luggage in with me in the morning.’

‘Sure.’

She picked up her bag and gave him a tight smile. ‘Thank you for dinner and cake and my gorgeous present.’

‘You’re most welcome.’

His dark eyes met hers and she wondered if she should give him a kiss on the cheek to thank him, just as she would anyone else who had given her such a nice night and gift.

Only he was not anyone.

But tonight of all nights, her hard-won control slipped and she leant in and gave him a light kiss on the cheek.

She merely brushed the skin of his cheek with her lips, and she even held her breath to lessen the impact the gesture would have on her senses. She would taste him later; in the elevator she would run her tongue over her lips and recall the warmth of his skin on her mouth.

And she would recall too the ache in her breast at the mere graze against his shirt.

She pulled back and her bag bit into her shoulder as she ached to drop it to the floor and give in to her craving for this man.

Luka did not want to get this wrong.

He read women with ease, and his kiss was so rarely refused—yet with her he could not be certain.

She had chastised him with her eyes on so many occasions, he could almost feel the sting of the slap she would deliver if he put so much as a finger wrong.

It would be worth it, Luka decided.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ Cecelia said, her voice a touch high as she willed her legs to move and take her from danger.

Yet, and yet... ‘But if you need anything before that...’

She had said the same words a hundred times before—or was it a thousand times?—but they sounded different tonight.

His response was different tonight too. ‘I need to be with you.’

No slap was delivered, she just stared back. And right when she thought she might finally know his kiss, instead his hands came to her arms.

‘Aren’t you going to try it on?’

She thought again of those slender dark fingers in her hair and his mouth near her cheek as he did the clasp, only this time, instead of refusing, she nodded.

‘Let me help,’ Luka said. He took her bag from her shoulder and retrieved the present and then dropped the bag to the floor.

He slowly prised open the box and as she watched his long finger run over the stones and she felt as if he was stroking her on the inside.

Luka could hear the trip in her breathing and felt the charge in the air; he breathed in the scent of seduction. For that was what she did, Luka concluded—without so much as a word or a move, she seduced.

‘Turn around,’ Luka said, and he moved from lounging against her desk.

Cecelia did so.

At his simple command she turned and faced the wall.

She had known how this evening would end, how this year would end.

And they ended tonight, she was suddenly rather certain of that.

But it didn’t matter now.

She was leaving.

Cecelia went to lift the long ponytail she had retied many times today, but he pushed her hand down. ‘I’ve got this,’ Luka said.

She could barely breathe as she felt his hands come around her throat and the brush of his fingers against the pulse in her neck. He was tall and, she was certain, hard behind her, and she ached to lean back into him.

She felt the coolness of the necklace fall between her breasts as he put it on and the brush of his fingers as he did up the clasp. But then, instead of turning her around to admire the necklace, his fingers moved to the tiny bolero. She both heard and felt his voice. ‘I hate this,’ he said, and his words reverberated deep within her as he pushed the fabric down over her shoulders.

Luka would not rush this, for he had waited a long time and so first he removed the little bolero that he had loathed on sight.

One arm was freed, and then the other, and as the garment fell silently to the floor, she felt it dust her calf.

She shivered as he ran fingers along the bare flesh of her arms, something he had wanted to do all night.

‘Luka...’ His name from her lips was so loaded with lust that he did not take it as a reproach. Instead, he lifted her hair and the spine that had teased him this morning was now his to explore.

She felt his lips on the back of her neck as soft as the kiss she had delivered to his cheek and the message was the same, for it felt like a promise.

Every notch to her spine that was exposed by her dress was rewarded with a graze of his mouth, and then there was the ache of no contact for a moment.

Followed by delicious relief.

‘I want to see this necklace on you as it should be seen,’ he said. She felt his hands on her neck as he undid the tie of her halter neck and she bit her lip as he undid her flesh-coloured strapless bra.

Her breasts felt heavy and there was a yearning for his touch there, but instead he freed her hair and arranged it over her shoulders. For a second, just a second, his fingers grazed her breasts.

He felt her hard nipples, and now it was his breathing that was jagged for the longing to see her was intense. But their first kiss would be a naked one, Luka decided.

Cecelia could barely stand. She heard a noise and glanced to the side, seeing Luka toss his jacket over a chair. She turned back to face the wall, not sure whether she could bear to watch him undress.

And then she heard him strip off his shirt and she almost folded over at the thought of his naked chest behind her.

Her thighs were trembling and she would have no choice but to ask to sit soon, but then came his hands on her shoulders and another command. ‘Turn around.’

Now she faced him and he looked at her usually pale face all flushed as if she’d already come. But instead of reproach in her green eyes there was the beckoning of an aurora as they glittered with the promise of what was to come.

‘It’s looks beautiful.’

The necklace fell between her breasts yet, as fine as it was, it garnered only a glance because he had found perfection elsewhere. He experienced a fierce desire to taste her there and to explore with his fingers, though they had not yet so much as kissed.

His lips were warm as they brushed over hers. Her breasts got the tease of his naked skin as their bodies came together, then his arms pulled her in as she moaned at the contact. He tasted of anise and all things forbidden and delicious.

And then he kissed her hard and she kissed him back hungrily, for she had craved him for close to a year. Her hands slipped through the arms that held her and came up behind his head to pull him closer.

He had expected reticence, that her tongue would require his coaxing, yet instead together they fuelled urgent desire. The woman who rarely blushed, who was always so cool and distant now burnt at his touch. He had imagined a slow seduction perhaps, and then he laughed in his head that he had thought her a virgin for the woman in his arms was wanton and wild.

He pressed against her hips and her grip tightened in his hair.

Tiny nips and wet, hot kisses were shared as Luka pressed her to the wall. She was grateful for the support it gave as her legs were trembling.

Luka pressed into her and moved her hands from his head and down past his flat stomach to the hard heat that was pressed into her.

He pulled back and their foreheads met as they watched her free him.

And, because it was Luka, of course he had protection to hand. But before he was lost to latex, Cecelia held him for a moment, as she had so long wanted to—stroking his thick, hard length as beads of silver moistened her palm.

She licked her lips and he moaned a low curse, for he wanted to carry her now to his suite. Luka wanted the rest of Cecelia’s clothes to be gone, but his want was more immediate now. He pushed her hand away and sheathed himself with rapid, practised ease and then got back to her mouth.

He was so tall that even with Cecelia in high espadrilles she was no match for him.

Their teeth clashed and suddenly too much was not enough. He pushed up the dress and his hands roughly roamed her inner thighs and felt her hot and wet as he tore at her knickers and then crouched enough to sear into her.

He was rougher than she had ever known yet there was liquid silk to ease his path.

Cecelia had never been more frantic and as he lifted her legs she wrapped them around him. He was strong enough with his grip to allow her to hold his face and kiss him back hard.

It was the roughest and most delicious coupling.

For they matched.

His hands held her buttocks and his fingers dug in so deep that they would surely leave a bruise, yet she ground onto him. And far from reticence, it was Cecelia coaxing him to come. ‘Luka!’ She could not focus on kissing, and she tore her mouth away. He could feel the tease of intimate muscles and he thrust in hard and then swelled to the tight grip of her orgasm and her sensual sob called him to deliver deep.

Luka did, shuddering his release deep into her to the last twitches of hers.

And that part had her dizzy. The moan of him carried without breath to her ears, and the sensual slide of their hot, damp bodies as they slowly brought themselves back from the far reaches of the divine space they had been in together. Kissing again, with languorous relish as the world faded in.

He lowered her down and she could feel the thump, thump of his heart against the flutter of hers. Cecelia rested her head on his shoulder and she was herself for the first time.

And herself was more reckless than she had ever dared to be.

‘Come on.’ He was tidying up, picking up discarded clothes, ready to be headed for his suite and to bed, to resume proceedings, this time at a more leisurely pace.

But she would not be waking up there, Cecelia decided.

One taste of heaven was more than enough and she had always sworn to leave before he dictated terms.

‘I need to get home.’

She picked up her bra, but since it would be almost impossible to do it up she pushed it into her bag.

‘Cece...’ he said, and she didn’t correct him, but she did pick up her shredded knickers and added them to her bag, and then with rather unsteady hands did up her halter neck.

‘I really do need to get home, Luka.’

‘You’re not just running off.’

‘I’m not running,’ she corrected. ‘I just want to go home.’

Her voice was incredibly composed. He looked at the necklace, heavy between gently curving breasts and the gorgeous flush of her climax.

But aside from throwing her over his shoulder, or dragging her, it would seem that he couldn’t stop her from leaving. She had made up her mind.

Usually it would be perfect.

A good orgasm, and then the absence of conversation—except there was more to her that he wanted to explore, and he was rather sure that there was more to come for them.

But she was checking herself in a small mirror compact, as she often did before she headed out.

‘Thanks for an amazing night,’ Cecelia said, and then, just as she had done previously, she leant forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek, as if the past half an hour had not taken place.

‘Don’t go home yet,’ Luka said.

‘I want to, though.’

And he couldn’t really argue with that.

He watched as she walked to the elevator and pressed the button.

Cecelia stepped in and pressed for the lobby, unable to stop herself leaning against the cool mirrors, not really surprised by what had taken place.

She had wanted him so badly for months.

A man in a suit got in at the fourteenth floor and another at the seventh.

Cecelia nodded and smiled and then stared ahead as they inched down to the ground floor where she stepped out and walked across the foyer.

The cleaners had their buffers out and were polishing the marble floors.

Cecelia said goodnight to the doorman and stepped out into the night, but there was no cool breeze to greet her.

It was a sultry London night, but as she headed for the underground station she heard her name—‘Ms Andrews?’

She turned around and saw that it was Luka’s driver.

‘Mr Kargas said you worked too late to take the underground.’

And of all the experiences of this night, this was the part she both hated and loved the most.

Loved that she was being taken care of by Luka, that he had thought to see her safely home.

Hated because by his very nature it was a mere temporary, tantalising glimpse of his world.

CHAPTER FIVE

CECELIA WAS TEMPTED to call in sick, but then that would suggest she regretted last night, which she didn’t.

Instead, she regretted how she felt this morning, because rather than getting up to her alarm and facing the very early start to her day, Cecelia had brought a coffee to bed and sat in it looking at the necklace that Luka had given her.

Cecelia did not want to be one of those women who dared to hope that with her things might be different.

She just had to get through this morning and then she would have a bit of a reprieve in the next two weeks, and then hopefully by the time he came back from Xanero, normal services could be resumed.

For the first time, she hadn’t put out her clothes the night before but Cecelia forgave herself that lapse.

She dressed in the navy suit that she should have worn yesterday and after checking her appearance left the flat. It was too early even for Mrs Dawson to be up and about as she left and took the Tube, not to the office but to Luka’s apartment, to which she had keys.

The trouble with being a PA, especially to someone as successful as Luka, was that for the term of your contract you had access to their life in a way few did.

And, Cecelia had learned, if you happened to be crazy about the boss, it was a form of slow torture.

The doorman knew her and greeted her with a smile. She headed up in the elevator and then rang the bell and waited a moment before letting herself in.

Once, thinking he was still overseas, she had let herself in unannounced, without ringing the bell, and had found Luka in bed.

Neither alone nor sleeping.

Yes, working for Luka really was torture.

Cecelia walked in through the entrance hallway, but instead of heading to his bedroom she went through to the lounge and looked out over the view of Hyde Park, wondering how he would behave with her this morning in the office.

Would he carry on like it hadn’t even happened, or would he expect her to be available to him as she served out her notice?

She gave a little shake of her head to clear such thoughts and wheeled the case she had brought with her towards the main bedroom.

Damn!

He was in bed, though thankfully this time alone.

And asleep.

It wasn’t unusual to have to tiptoe around him, only this morning it was made more difficult, knowing she could have awoken next to him.

As quietly as she could, Cecelia opened up a wardrobe and, as the light inside came on, Cecelia heard him stir.

‘Hey,’ Luka said, his voice thick and sleepy.

‘I’m just sorting out your luggage for your trip.’

And then he must have recalled what they had done the previous night because he asked, ‘Why did you leave so abruptly?’

‘Because I wanted to get home,’ Cecelia said, and then she turned and gave him a small smile and did her best to keep it light. ‘And I also wanted some sleep.’

‘Yes, well, you wouldn’t have got that had you stayed.’ He put his hands behind his head and watched her pulling out a couple of casual shirts and adding them to the case.

‘Will you be swimming when you’re there?’ she asked.

‘What do you think, Cece?’ he said.

It really had been a stupid question, given where he was headed, but it had been more to change the subject than to find out the answer.

‘I think you should call me by my proper name,’ she added, ignoring his question. Of course he would be swimming.

‘It’s not a holiday camp.’ He grinned from the bed. ‘The villas all have their own private pools,’ Luka said as she headed into his en suite bathroom, then he let out a fond laugh of recall. ‘Though there used to be just one main one. I used to work it.’

‘Work it?’ Cecelia laughed and called out from the en suite where she was collecting his cologne and things. ‘Were you a cabana boy?’

‘Yes.’

‘Really?’ She came to the door smiling, her hands full of toiletries. ‘I was actually joking.’

‘It’s true, though. I used to head down there after school or during the holidays. It wasn’t as luxurious then as it is now. There was a different owner then—Geo.’

‘What was he like?’

‘Lazy and a gambler,’ Luka said, and he looked at her standing in the doorway and thought of all she had told him last night.

And all she had not.

There was a lot he hadn’t told her either. He thought of her little jab yesterday about not everything being about money. She thought he’d had it all handed to him on a plate.

Everyone did.

He would have two weeks solid of it now; his father swanning around as if he had rebuilt the stunning complex from scratch, and—one thing that really annoyed Luka—complaining about the food when he feasted at the restaurant. Theo would sit there loudly stating that he made it better himself, when in truth Theo Kargas could not make his own coffee, let alone run a high-end kitchen.

Luka rather guessed that the uptight Cecelia might not be a forgiving audience for the story of his beginnings, and not the first person he would choose to share it with.

Luka wasn’t used to sharing anything.

In business and in private he chose to take rather than to give.

Yet she had told him so much last night and the guilt of his past gnawed at his gut like a cancer—not that he would ever admit it.

‘I would pick up the towels and get drinks and things. Then, when I finished school I got a job in Reception.’

Cecelia zipped up his toiletry bag and put it in his case and was just about to ask him about footwear when he said something that made her frown.

‘Of course, I still worked the pool but it was in my own time and it wasn’t towels that I was picking up.’

She looked up and met his eyes. ‘Meaning?’

‘Because I worked in Reception, I knew who the richest women were because they had private access to the beach and the ocean view.’

‘I’m not with you...’

‘I think you are, Cece.’

She added a belt to his case and did not look at him but he could see two pink spots on her cheek.

In fact, she was embarrassed, wondering if it was because of the fact that sex was constantly on her mind around Luka that she was misinterpreting things.

‘I made a lot of money, and I saved all of it. I made enough that when Geo lost a small fortune and was desperate for cash, I put in an offer for the restaurant and it was accepted.’

‘You bought the restaurant?’

‘Yes,’ Luka said. ‘I bought it and gave my father a share, so he might finally work in his own restaurant, as he had always said he wanted to do. Growing up, we had no money and he said there were no jobs but there were jobs. Pot-washing jobs but, still, it was work. He got really angry...’ Luka didn’t add that he’d got the worst beating of his life that night. ‘My mother said he was a chef and that washing pots was beneath him. So, when I had the money, I bought him a share in a restaurant, one with the Kargas name on the door.’

‘But how on earth did a pool boy get the money to buy a restaurant?’

‘It wasn’t the establishment it is now,’ Luka pointed out.

‘But even so! Are you saying you were a gigolo?’

‘If you choose to call it that then, yes, I was,’ Luka said, expecting her to snap his case closed and walk away.

Yet she didn’t.

‘But how?’ Cecelia asked. ‘I mean, how does it work?’

Luka shrugged. ‘A smile, a nod. Often they would buy me a drink.’

‘I thought it would be the other way around.’

‘No.’

‘And did you name a price?’

‘Of course not,’ Luka said. ‘That would be in poor taste.’

‘But how?’ she asked, intensely curious. ‘I mean, I just can’t imagine...’

‘What?’ he said. ‘You can’t imagine naming your wants?’

‘No!’ Cecelia admitted. ‘I can’t.’

‘Perhaps you should try it before you knock it!’

‘No, thank you,’ she said primly. ‘And I can’t imagine giving the cabana boy a wink and a nod.’

Luka smiled. ‘The first time it happened was a surprise. I got chatting to one of the guests. She was a widow. I didn’t really know her but she asked me to join her for dinner. I said no, Geo would not like me dining with the guests. She said we would dine in her suite then. And so I went up and we ate and then we...’ He smiled. ‘I’m sure you can guess the rest.’

‘But I can’t,’ Cecelia said, for she wanted to know more, and in her curiosity she found herself sitting down on the bed. ‘How old was she?’

‘A good bit older than I was then. In her thirties, I think,’ Luka said. ‘She was my first.’ He looked at her. ‘Who was yours?’

‘I don’t have to answer that.’

‘If you want to know more you do.’

‘Gordon.’

He wrinkled his nose and Luka was surprised as something that felt like it should be called jealousy surged in his chest.

Which was ridiculous when he was telling her about his own depraved past.

‘Well, my first was actually stunning—a divorcée. She was there with friends but had her own villa. I was there every night until morning and I thought I had found the keys to heaven. The morning she left she came into Reception and when Geo wasn’t looking she gave me an envelope. I thought it was a letter. When I opened it there was a whole load of cash. Until that point I had thought it was a romance.’

‘Were you hurt when she paid you?’

‘Hell no,’ he said. ‘To tell the truth I was already starting to get restless.’

Cecelia suppressed an eye-roll and refrained from saying that perhaps it was an indicator of things to come, as Luka spoke on.

‘I was trying to work out how to break it off but had decided to do so after her holiday. I was the naïve one back then.’

Cecelia gave a wry smile at that. ‘I doubt you were ever naïve. And after she’d gone there was another?’

‘Of course, although it wasn’t always cash. Sometimes they would take me shopping for a watch or such like. Once a car...’

‘A car?’

She started to laugh. An embarrassed laugh, but she was also very curious. ‘Luka!’

‘What?’ He shrugged. ‘I was always careful and it wasn’t all sex.’

‘What else?’

‘Romance. Dinner. Shopping. But mainly talking.’

‘You mean, saying what they wanted to hear?’

‘Yep.’

‘Did you care for them?’

‘Some I did,’ Luka said. ‘Mostly it was work.’ He met her eyes. ‘They didn’t all care for me, Cece. They paid for the full Luka Kargas treatment.’

For a few years the pool had been his playground and the pickings had always been rich.

‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘once I had bought the restaurant I hired a decent chef and changed the décor.’

‘What about your father?’

Luka didn’t answer directly.

It felt disloyal to his mother to admit that his father hadn’t so much as lifted a saucepan.

‘The restaurant started to do well and was too busy for one chef. Though it didn’t do too well—I made sure of that.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I knew it wouldn’t be long until Geo blew things again and would be forced to sell. When that happened I had planned to be in a good enough position to put in an offer on the resort. With help, of course...’

‘Financial help?’ Cecelia checked.

‘No, one of the women I was seeing helped me get my papers in order to go to the bank.’ He didn’t add that the woman had also warned him not to bring his father into the hotel side of things.

It was advice for which he would be grateful for ever.

‘How old were you by then?’

‘Twenty-two. Once the resort was safely mine I hired the best chef I could find and things really started to happen. As the guests came in I started to buy up the houses and land around it. Out of all the hotels I own, it is still the jewel in my crown. From humble beginnings it’s magnificent now.’

She looked at him. He mesmerised her, he truly did. And she was nervous too, for the more she knew him, the more she wanted him.

‘Is your father still your business partner?’

‘Not fully.’ He shook his head. ‘The hotels are mine, the restaurants belong to us both.’ And then, a touch unguarded, he admitted a little more. ‘I should never have gone into business with him.’

‘I agree about not going into business with family,’ Cecelia said, because she had seen such things go wrong in her work before. ‘And, Luka, I also think it’s a really bad idea getting involved with an employer.’ It was Cecelia who brought it back to them. ‘I’m not saying that I regret last night, but it should never have happened. I take my career very seriously.’

‘I know you do, but you’re leaving anyway.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘But I still don’t think it’s right and I don’t want Bridgette or anyone knowing that something once happened between us.’

‘Once?’ he checked, and he took her hand to move it to the sheet beneath which he was hardening, but she resisted and her palm came to rest on his flat stomach.

There was no solace there for his skin was warm and she could feel the silk hair that led from his navel to paradise and she ached to move her hand lower.

So much had changed since yesterday.

Not just that she was leaving.

And not just that they had slept together.

He was creeping further into her heart.

‘Luka, I really think we should just draw a neat line under what happened and when you come back from Xanero we’ll go back to how we were.’

She was trying so hard to hold onto her heart, while at the same time sitting on his bed and looking into his eyes.

He pulled her head towards him, and she let him, and they shared a lingering kiss. He was leaving this morning, Cecelia told herself.

Order would soon be returned.

Just not yet.

Their tongues explored each other and their mouths were hungry for sensations.

He kissed down her neck and then moved the collar of her linen jacket and kissed the shoulders that had been revealed to him only yesterday, tracing her clavicle with his tongue until her neck arched.

‘Don’t leave a bruise...’ she said, but he ignored her, biting into her flesh and sucking as his hand pushed between her thighs, which were pressed together.

‘Come to bed,’ Luka said.

And without hesitation she nodded.

Cecelia stood and his eyes were on her as she undressed. He watched as the navy jacket came off and he just stared as she removed her top to reveal the purple mark on her shoulder.

She slipped off her skirt and sandals and then straightened up and removed her bra. She could see he was hard beneath the sheet, and, in response to the command from her hungry eyes, he kicked it off.

He loved that he did not have to persuade her—that he did not have to slowly remove her bra and kiss her while sliding down her knickers.

Instead, she took care of that.

For this was no accident.

Her delicately shaped curls, which he had not had time to appreciate last night, had a coppery tinge that he stared at as she removed her bra. For the first time in years he was hungry to taste a woman, and reached for her to join him in bed.

‘After this morning...’ she warned, but he hushed her with his mouth. ‘I mean it, Luka,’ Cecelia said, pulling hers away.

‘Sure,’ he agreed, ‘so this morning we make the most of it.’

Instead of kissing her, he knelt and lowered his head to her breast.

His tongue swirled around her nipple while his mouth closed and created a delicious vacuum. He sucked hard and Cecelia felt herself clench down below.

‘Luka...’

‘Nice?’ he asked, removing his mouth and blowing on her erect nipple. Cecelia didn’t know how to answer.

It was beyond nice, it was bliss, yet his moves were so practised and sure. She closed her eyes and then his mouth moved down her stomach.

‘Am I getting the full Luka Kargas treatment?’ she asked.

There was a moment of arrested silence while he paused, his mouth hovering over her stomach. What she didn’t know was that in Luka’s world the tables had turned many years ago. He no longer went down on women.

His start had been sex and Luka had long ago perfected his routine.

But now that his wealth exceeded theirs...

Well, he paid for their favours.

Not directly, of course.

With jewels and exotic weekends.

Now they went down on him instead of the other way around.

But not this morning.

It had been years since...

Years since her pleasure had mattered.

This morning it did.

‘No,’ he responded to her question. ‘You’re getting me.’

He kissed her stomach, not lightly but as deeply and intently as if it were her mouth, and Cecelia found her breath held in her throat as his hand slid between her closed legs. ‘Open them.’

She did, just a little, and she lay there, determined almost not to enjoy it. To remind herself that this was his skill.

His thumb was intent and his fingers were inside her but Cecelia’s throat was tight as he teased and stroked and rubbed, for she brought up her knees in an involuntary movement.

Women had paid him for this, she told herself as his tongue set to work alongside his thumb.

There was a moan building but she held onto it, yet he read it, for he moved between her legs to increase the intensity.

Luka heard her low moan and forgot his practised moves of old for this was new.

He heard her gasps, and finally learned the scent and taste of Cecelia on his tongue.

Her thighs were shaking as he probed deeply, and her hand pressed on his head, pushing him away. He knew she resisted pleasure.

So he upped the intensity again.

‘Luka...’ she sobbed, because it was too intense. His tongue was penetrating and he growled—and knew the moment she felt it. She wanted to come, but knew she would come so deeply that she was terrified to let herself go.

‘Come, Cece,’ he said, his voice rumbling through her. It was a command, an order her body could not ignore. Her back arched and her orgasm shot through her like lightning and earthed to his mouth.

He coaxed every flicker from her so that she was flushed and near crying when her body came down.

Never had it tasted this good. This was not like the work he used to do. This was different.

He slid up her body, Cecelia pulling him those final inches. They drank from each other in a desperate kiss that was both deep and heady. Luka came up on his arms but she pulled his head back down to claim a deeper kiss.

It was nothing like either of them had known before.

He was practised to the core and she was so new to passion, yet it was fire that they made together. She did not want him to be this good.

‘That wasn’t work,’ he told her. ‘That was bliss.’

And so was this.

He was there at her entrance and nudging a little way in. ‘Come with me,’ he said to the shell of her ear. ‘To Xanero...’

Luka did not want to go and now had been presented with a way to make it more bearable.

She liked the thought of fourteen nights of this. But she held back.

‘No,’ she said, and he pulled out. ‘I mean, no to Xanero...’

But yes to this.

Her eyes were closed as he slid in deep, all the way in. If she could have examined her thoughts she feared she would rediscover her self-control, and the part of her that knew this was wrong.

And so did Luka.

But they were past caring.

The feel of him unsheathed and stretching her was sublime.

And for Luka too, for she was slippery yet tight. He drove in deep and she let out a moan that he wanted to turn into a scream.

He reached for her leg and wrapped her calf around his thigh, pushing into her again. She was more open than she had ever been.

He thrust slowly and could feel the intimate welcoming grip of her.

Her nails dug into his buttocks and she moved with him until they were lost to each other and the moment.

‘Luka...’ She could barely breathe, yet at her plea he took her harder and faster, making her dizzy. She could feel her climax building and this time she welcomed it.

He angled himself and took her deeper and then he tipped into rapid, rhythmic thrusts from which there was no return. It was her scream that brought him back to consciousness.

It was her first scream in bed, Luka knew as his stomach lifted and he pulsed into her, shouting his release.

Her cry came from a place she had never known, and her orgasm was so intense that for a moment she felt possessed. As if her body had been taken over by someone else, by a woman who knew how to be free.

Yet as she gloried in the sensation, his weight atop her reminded her starkly that soon she would have to dig her way out of the ashes from the fire he had brought to her heart.

CHAPTER SIX

‘COME WITH ME to Xanero.’

As the mist was clearing he said it again. His weight pressed down on her even as he still rested inside her. If there was ever a weak moment this was it and Cecelia knew she was about to say yes when Luka spoke.

‘Not to the resort or anything,’ he added, pushing up onto his forearms. ‘Or my mother would think we were serious or something. You could stay on the yacht.’

Cecelia slid out from under him and rolled to her side. He did the same.

She had almost said yes.

In a delicious weak moment she had almost succumbed, and she failed to keep the bitter edge from her tone when she responded to his invitation. ‘You mean, come to Xanero as your plaything.’

‘I’d work you by day...’ He smiled, completely unfazed as he toyed with her breast, still throbbing from his previous attention, for this was the life he led. ‘And then make up for it by night.’

‘So while you’re on the island I’d be cooped up—’

‘Hardly cooped up. It’s not a tin boat with a gas stove....’

‘I have seen your yacht, Luka.’

Well, she had seen pictures of it and had seen some of the accounts for it. It was a luxury resort in itself, and of course she knew all about the wild parties that were held there.

And now she was being invited into the playboy’s bed.

Oh, the dewy mist of his lovemaking was most certainly starting to clear for suddenly Cecelia pulled herself away and sat up.

And it was then that realisation kicked in. ‘Luka, we didn’t use anything...’

In a life spent not making mistakes, Cecelia had just made a huge one and there was no excuse.

For either of them.

‘Are you on the Pill?’

‘Yes, I’m on the Pill,’ she snapped as she tried to remember if she’d taken it last night, because it hadn’t just been putting out her clothes for the morning that had fallen by the wayside. But surely if she went home now and took it, then she’d be fine.

But pregnancy wasn’t the only thing on her mind.

‘It’s not just that, though.’ Cecelia turned and looked over to where he lay and saw that his expression was equally grim.

He’d just told her he’d once been a gigolo—she could not believe she had been so careless.

‘Cecelia, you don’t have to worry about anything there,’ Luka said as he moved to reassure her. ‘I always use protection.’

‘Well, clearly you don’t!’

It was as much her fault as his, Cecelia knew that, and her angry tone was aimed more towards herself.

‘You’ll be fine,’ he said, which might have sounded dismissive, but neither did he want to admit just how impossibly rare this lapse was.

She gave a terse nod and headed for the shower while Luka lay there, his hands behind his head, trying to fathom what had just taken place.

This morning he’d forgotten the rules. This morning he’d been so wrapped in the feel of her, the feel of them, that he’d forgotten the care he usually took.

He had complete control in the bedroom, for though he was wild he was not reckless.

Yet this morning he had been.

Not only had he invited her to come to Xanero with him—at least he had quickly reacted and told Cece that she would only be on the yacht—but for a moment he had glimpsed it. His dream, showing off the first Kargas restaurant and the now stunning resort which was by far his proudest achievement to date.

And he had told her how his ascent to the top had started.

Luka wasn’t particularly close to anyone.

He kept work and family neatly separated, and certainly he had never invited an employee, albeit one who had resigned, to join him there.

The yacht was for escape, for parties and fun. It had never been used as a couples’ retreat.

She came out of the shower and dressed quickly. He was relieved that she seemed as keen to leave as he now wanted her gone, for she had messed with his head.

‘I’d better take your case in to the office,’ Cecelia said.

‘Please.’ He nodded. ‘I’ll be in later.’

No, he wasn’t a perfect gentleman, for he did not tell her to leave the case and that he would take it.

And neither would his driver magically appear.

She could take the underground.

Cecelia had said herself that she wanted to draw a neat line and get back to being his PA.

That suited him just fine.

Last night had been amazing.

So had this morning, and yet now he was left feeling deeply unsettled.

Luka chose not to get close to anyone, but this morning he had.

* * *

Xanero really was hell in paradise.

For Luka, the first week there had been a protracted nightmare—his mother seemed resigned to her fate and his father continued to lord it over the restaurant and resort.

And he had found out that his father was bullying the staff.

Bastard!

While Luka disliked how his father had rewritten history to suit the image of himself he wanted to believe, Luka could live with it if it made life easier on his mother.

But bullying would not happen in one of Luka’s establishments, and for all the lies and wealth that shaped his mother’s life, she was finding it no easier that he could see.

Luka had taken the yacht out over the weekend, but the pop of champagne corks and the sound of music skimming over the Mediterranean had soon grated and he had cleared everyone off except the crew as he mulled things over. Now, back on Xanero, and midway through the second week, on the Wednesday morning his decisions were made and he was ready to execute them.

He walked through the alfresco area of the restaurant where diners were enjoying the morning sun and through to the cool darkness of the main restaurant.

Theo Kargas was at the bar, speaking with the bar manager, and Luka could feel the young man’s tension from across the room.

‘Hey,’ he said to his father. ‘We need to talk.’

‘About?’ Theo asked, even as he crammed whitebait, crisped to perfection, into his mouth. He was utterly relaxed, for any angry words from his son always took place out of earshot of the staff.

Yes, Luka’s door was always closed.

Not so today.

‘I want to discuss your appalling treatment of my staff and your inexcusable conduct towards my mother.’

Theo almost choked, but then attempted a recovery. ‘Your staff? We are partners. I gave you—’

‘You gave me nothing,’ Luka said, and got right in his father’s face. ‘You actually believe your own lies. Now, as I said, we need to talk...’ He gestured to a table, for he too would prefer privacy for this but the fact he had first addressed the issues in front of the bar manager had been deliberate.

Theo would listen, or Luka would act.

‘I bought this restaurant,’ Luka said, ‘from the money I made picking up rich woman...’

‘Luka,’ his father warned, for a waiter was setting up the table and could hear what was being said.

‘What?’ Luka shrugged. ‘I’m not ashamed of it.’

Well, perhaps he was a bit, but having told Cecelia the real truth about his start he felt more reconciled with it.

So he told his father a truth that had consistently been ignored. ‘I gave you an opportunity to work, and you spurned it. I have put up with it for years for my mother’s sake. No more. I am hiring a new manager, who shall report directly to me. One more episode of your foul temper used on my staff and I shall take you through the courts to extricate you from our agreement and the restaurant’s name shall be changed to Luka Kargas.’

‘It would kill your mother.’

‘She’s already dying,’ Luka pointed out, and then he looked right at his father. ‘Actually, she isn’t, because I am moving her to London for her treatments and I am going to ensure that she rests and is taken care of between them.’

‘You can’t just swan in here and dictate—’

‘Oh, but I can,’ Luka said. ‘I own the complex, and I have a half-share in the restaurant, and,’ he added, ‘I can destroy you if I so choose. You should be pleading with your wife to seek treatment, because if it wasn’t for her you’d be seeing your days out in a shack on the hills and, believe me, Theo, you don’t want to test me on that.’

‘I’m your father!’ Theo reared and stood and leant across the table and grabbed Luka’s shirt.

‘More’s the pity,’ Luka said. ‘And I strongly suggest that you get your hands off me. I’m not ten years old any more, or a skinny teenager up against a brute. I could floor you and I am more than willing to do it.’

Sensibly, his father removed his hand, for it was clear Luka meant every word. But he was not finished yet. ‘You have no idea the ruthless bastard I can be. I could crush you and your so-called empire in the palm of my hand,’ Luka said. ‘And I will say it again, just so we’re clear—the only reason I’ve held back where the resort is concerned is for the sake of my mother.’

It was Luka who stood up and walked off back towards his villa.

He’d have loved to have hit his bully of a father, but what good could come from that? So instead he stripped off and dived into the pool, pounding out several lengths before hauling himself from the water a touch breathless.

And then he messaged Cecelia.

We need to talk.

His message came up on her computer and Cecelia tensed, because though they had spoken about work both online and on the phone on many occasions, this sounded rather personal.

She replied quickly.

I’m about to call someone in for an interview.

So?

Of course he didn’t mean that they needed to speak about what had taken place between them, Cecelia scolded herself for her less-than-professional reply. If Luka Kargas wanted to speak to his PA it didn’t matter if she’d been about to call someone in.

‘I have to speak with Mr Kargas,’ Cecelia said to the interviewee. ‘I’ll be back when I can.’

Cecelia didn’t apologise for keeping Sabine waiting, for the potential PA might as well get a glimpse of what she would be in for.

A moment later his face appeared on her screen and Cecelia got more than a glimpse.

His chest was naked and her view was of a dark mahogany nipple surrounded by a swirl of black hair. But then he angled the screen better and she saw that his hair was wet and he was squinting from the bright sun.

‘What can I do for you?’ Cecelia asked.

Her voice was cool, her demeanour brisk and she was determined that they were back to business.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

‘Working.’ She frowned. ‘Marco has a few things he needs to run by you but apart from that things are ticking along.’

She was wearing a grey dress with a sheer grey silky cardigan, because perish the thought that she might show too much skin. Her hair was neat and pulled back and yet now he knew another side to her he couldn’t help but see her buttoned-up appearance for what it was. A defence strategy.

‘I want you to fly here,’ Luka said. ‘I want you here tonight.’

Cecelia stared back at him. ‘For work?’

‘No.’

She liked it that he was direct.

In fact, Cecelia liked it that he had basically asked her to get on a plane for sex. But what happened when he got bored? She reminded herself of all the reasons she had refused his original offer.

He would wake up one morning and instead of kisses she would sense his restlessness.

His slight disdain.

Oh, she had seen it on too many occasions not to know what was in store for her.

At least here in London she was but a taxi ride away from salvaging her pride when he told her they were through.

But in Xanero?

Did she book her own flight home?

Or would they suffer it through until she left his employ less than three weeks from now?

‘If it isn’t for work, then I shan’t be joining you.’

‘Fine,’ Luka snapped. ‘In that case, I need you to go and view some apartments for me.’

‘Sure.’

‘And I want you to interview some private nurses. Make sure they speak Greek.’

Cecelia took down the details.

It was now all very businesslike. Surly, but businesslike. Yet she ached to know more about his mother, though she resisted asking for details that were not with the remit of a professional relationship.

They had spent one night together, and she knew from his reputation that that didn’t give her the keys to his private life.

‘How are the interviews for your replacement going?’ Luka asked.

‘I’m getting there,’ Cecelia said. ‘I’m on the second round, so I should have a shortlist of three for you to choose from.’

‘Any stand-outs?’

Cecelia hesitated.

Luka was a demanding boss but she almost had to shake the stars from potential employees’ eyes to ensure they understood what the job entailed.

But one had stood out.

Sabine.

She had an incredible work history and was bright and engaging. The only trouble was that Cecelia didn’t like her.

‘There’s one,’ Cecelia said. ‘Sabine. I’m just about to interview her again and give her a tour but...’

‘But what?’

‘I don’t know,’ Cecelia admitted.

‘Try telling me.’

‘I don’t like her.’ Cecelia shrugged. ‘But, then, she’s not for me to like. I’ll see how this interview goes. She speaks Greek, which might be a help with your mother, and...’

‘My mother will be coming to London for treatment, not for little get-togethers with my PA.’

He turned off the computer and closed it up.

Luka really did not want her to leave.

And yet it was perhaps for the best because despite strong words about PAs not getting involved with his family, he had told Cecelia some things he had never told anyone. And he had her interviewing nurses and looking for apartments.

He trusted her, and Luka was more comfortable trusting no one.

* * *

With that awkward conversation over, Cecelia got on with the second-round interviews.

Cecelia was self-aware enough to know that it was probably for private reasons that she couldn’t take to Sabine. The young woman was gorgeous, with piercing blue eyes and straight black hair cut in a jagged, edgy style. She made Cecelia feel terribly drab.

‘Luka will probably call you Sab, or Sabby...’ Cecelia said in an offhand comment as she showed her around. ‘It drives me crazy.’

‘He can call me what he likes as long as he pays me.’

Cecelia held in a breath.

Sabine was arrogant and overly confident perhaps, but she really was the perfect match for Luka.

She could almost hear the banter between them.

‘This is his suite,’ Cecelia explained as she opened the door. ‘It’s serviced daily but I tend to check it as it sometimes needs an extra service. Not currently, though, he’s still in Greece.’

‘So I read!’ Sabine said.

Cecelia had been doing her level best not to read about him, but once the interviews were wrapped up she found that she could not resist.

The headlines were all in the same vein: Xanero Magnate Returns.

It would seem that the weekend had been spent out on his yacht and she knew full well what went on on board.

She clicked on the article and there were the glossy beauties that always surrounded him and the sun hanging low in a fiery sky.

Luka didn’t even wait for nightfall to get a party started.

It wasn’t just the resumption of his sex life that concerned her, though—oh, but it did, desperately it did—but also what had happened that morning between them.

Cecelia could not believe she’d had unprotected sex. Though she kept willing herself calm, yesterday she had caved and made an appointment with her GP.

At the conclusion of the interview today Cecelia was heading there.

‘Well, thank you for coming in,’ Cecelia said as she walked Sabine to the elevator. ‘You can expect to hear from me by the end of the week.’

‘I’ll look forward to it.’ Sabine smiled and the women shook hands.

Cecelia really didn’t like her, but it would seem she was the only one to feel so.

‘She seems really nice,’ Bridgette commented as Cecelia walked back from the elevator.

Yes, it was probably for rather personal reasons that she didn’t like her, Cecelia guessed, and decided that she would be putting Sabine forward.

Luka could make the final call.

‘I’m going out for a couple of hours,’ she told Bridgette. ‘I won’t have my phone on.’

‘What should I say if Luka calls because he can’t get hold of you?’ Bridgette checked, because his PA was always supposed to be available.

‘Tell him I’m...’ She didn’t know what to say. ‘Tell him I’m taking a long lunch.’

Lunch didn’t come into it.

Instead, she took the underground until she was practically home and spent the next hour sitting in the waiting room at her GP’s surgery.

Cecelia was rarely there and finally, when her name was called, she rather hoped she would be in and out in a few minutes with her mind eased.

Dr Heale introduced herself and Cecelia told her the reason she was there.

‘It’s probably nothing,’ Cecelia started. ‘In fact, I’m sure I’m wasting your time...’

‘Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?’

Very well.

Why was discussing sex always so awkward for her? The shame came from her aunt and uncle, Cecelia knew. They spoke in whispers and were still mortified by the salacious circumstances in which her mother had died.

Cecelia did her best to push all that aside and to speak in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘I had unprotected sex last week.’

‘When?’

‘On Monday night,’ Cecelia said. ‘Or rather on the Tuesday morning.’

‘You’re on the Pill?’ Dr Heale checked, reading through her notes.

‘Yes,’ Cecelia said, ‘though I usually take my Pill at night...’

‘And you didn’t?’

‘No.’

‘Well, you’ve left it too late for the morning-after pill.’

She hadn’t really thought about it the morning after, but now Dr Heale was telling her that she’d had a window of a week.

That window was closed to her now.

‘But it’s probably fine?’ Cecelia pushed, only Dr Heale wasn’t exactly rushing to put her at ease; in fact, she was reading Cecelia’s notes.

‘Are you still with your fiancé?’ she asked.

Cecelia remembered the last time she had been there, carefully going on the Pill before she and Gordon did anything.

There had certainly been no up-against-the-wall sex with him!

‘Er, no.’

‘Do you have a new partner?’

‘Not exactly,’ Cecelia croaked. ‘It was a one-off, well...’

‘That’s fine,’ Dr Heale said. ‘But with a casual encounter it is, of course, more important that you’re careful.’

She was right, except there was nothing casual about Cecelia’s feelings for Luka.

And there was that sting of shame again—not that Dr Heale turned a hair. If anything, she was very practical.

‘Perhaps, while you’re here, we should run a sexual health check,’ she suggested.

It looked like Cecelia would not be in and out in a couple of minutes; in fact, she returned from lunch a full hour late.

‘Luka’s been calling the office,’ Bridgette warned. ‘And he’s not best pleased that your mobile’s turned off.’

He certainly had been calling, Cecelia thought when she turned it back on. She had barely sat down before he called again.

‘How was the dentist?’ he asked, and there was an edge to Luka’s voice for he was quite sure where she had been.

‘Excuse me?’ Cecelia flared.

‘You’re the one making up excuses. Were you off visiting your new office? Or perhaps having lunch with your new boss—whoever that may be?’

‘No,’ Cecelia calmly responded. ‘I had an appointment. Now, what can I do for you?’

You can get here, Luka wanted to answer.

He had never had to chase or pursue, and the one woman who could have made him feel better had distanced herself from him.

‘How did the second-round interviews go?’

‘Very well. I have a shortlist of three for you to interview.’

‘Bring them in early next week.’

‘So you’ll be back on Monday?’ Cecelia checked.

But Luka had already rung off.

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