“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...

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!

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

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Claiming His Hidden Heir

Carol Marinelli

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07204-5

CLAIMING HIS HIDDEN HEIR

© 2018 Carol Marinelli

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.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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For my great friend Frances Housden

An inspiring woman and wonderful writer.

Love always

Carol xxx

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

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

Extract

About the Publisher

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.

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