Rival Attractions & Innocent Secretary(36)

'I'll call her later,' came the curt reply.

Which she relayed, to no avail.

'Luca … ' She felt as if she were pressing the demolition button as she pressed the intercom again.

'What?'

'She's crying. I don't know if something's happened … '

When he swore in Italian, Emma held her breath, hardly letting it out  when she saw the red light on and realised he had taken the call,  wondering if she had done the right thing. The thick door to his office  meant she could hear nothing and Emma paced up and down, staring at the  red light, knowing they were talking, wondering if she should go in and  apologise afterwards, berating herself for not checking with Evelyn what  she should do in these circumstances. And then, after an interminable  time, the red light went off.

She waited a moment for his angry summons but, worse than that, there was only silence and a closed door.

She knocked-as he insisted she did.

And knocked again, ignoring that he didn't answer-deciding to 'practise  some of the assertion this job demands'. Taking a deep breath, she  walked in. Afterwards, she fervently wished she hadn't, but by then it  was already too late.                       
       
           



       

* * *

He couldn't stand it-he just couldn't stand it!

For weeks Daniela had been ringing, every day, then every hour, and now and then his mother too.

And now had come the tears.

The pleading.

'Familia, Luca.'

He hated familia!

'Just this-all I ask of you, all I have done for you, all I have suffered for you!'

For him?

Always his mother twisted things-and she was twisting them now, telling  him she had suffered for him, that she had taken the beatings, the hell,  the agony-for him.

And now, supposedly, he had to repay the favour.

He hated this!

There was a rip of anger in him, this fury that sixteen years living  away from home had only slightly dimmed, because it was always there,  churning beneath the surface. His vast office was tiny, too small to  contain his fury, his loathing, his hate.

Then he became distantly aware that his mobile was ringing.

Ma.

Ma.

Ma.

He picked the mobile up and threw it across the room-but still it rang.

He picked up his landline phone and tossed that too.

Ah, but soon would come the emails …

So with one swoop he cleared his entire desk of its contents, the  computer, papers, his lamp, his coffee, everything, crashing in one  swoop, a smash of glass and chaos, with no relief, no reprieve because  Emma walked in.

'Out!'

He roared it at her, but she just stood there, frozen.

'Get out now!' Except she didn't, just stood there eyes wide in shock  and then, worse, with tears in them … refusing to leave, refusing to go.  So he stormed out of his office and on to the lift, pounded on the  button and then gave in, resting his head on his forearm and dragging in  air.

He would explain.

He must explain.

He hadn't wanted her to see him like that …

Luca turned and walked back, calmer now, together now, and then he saw her.

Kneeling on the floor, crying and scared and shaking, picking up the  lamp, retrieving shards of glass-trying to clear up the chaos so that it  might appear to have never happened.

It could have been his mother twenty years ago-only this time it was he  who had caused the chaos, and he who had reduced Emma to frightened  tears.

'I'm sorry!' Her voice was shaky as she took the blame, and that was  what almost killed Luca. 'I should never have put her through to you.'

It almost killed him, because Luca realised with a dread that had been building for years now-he was turning into his father.





CHAPTER FIVE


EMMA had grown up with men long enough to refuse to tiptoe around  them-oh, she steered clear of Luca for a while and when Evelyn came back  a new lamp was purchased, a few items replaced, and supposedly it had  never happened.

Except it had.

Yet she refused to be silenced.

Refused to dance around him and refused not to question him when a ridiculous plan made itself known.

'Can you tell me why I'm booked to attend your sister's wedding?' Emma  struggled to keep her voice even-after all, this was her boss and this  had to be a mistake, but she wasn't going to take this!

It was six p.m. and Emma had spent the last two hours with Luca's travel  team, working out the logistics of his impossible schedule for the  upcoming fortnight, only to see her name appear on the flight list for  Palermo and the transfer helicopter to his village. Worse than that,  she'd had to suffer the thinly veiled smirk on the travel team manager's  face when she'd asked why the hotel hadn't yet been booked.

There were no hotels in the village!

'Oh!' Luca had at least the grace to wince. 'I've been meaning to tell  you … ' Luca could read women as easily as a newspaper and as her eyes  widened at his choice of words, he quickly corrected himself. 'I mean,  ask you.'

'Ask me what?' she asked through gritted teeth.

'You know my sister is getting married soon.'

'Is she really?' Emma feigned surprise. After all, she was the one  co-ordinating the lavish wedding gift-a pool, and not just any pool, an  infinity pool cut into the edge of the volcanic rock no less. And she  was the one who had been dealing with the Sicilian foreman and the  architect and the insurance company, the tie selection people, the  sister and the mother, not to mention Luca's appalling mood! Oh, yes,  she knew his sister was getting married!

'Please,' Luca said. 'Sarcasm doesn't suit you.' He frowned for a  moment, then added, 'Actually, it does-but not now. I need some help  over the weekend. It's a bit hard to explain … '

She gave a tiny shake of her head. Luca never found things hard to  explain-the Luca she knew always just came out and said what he meant.                       
       
           



       

'Well, I can't help. I actually have plans that weekend,' Emma said, her  voice still even and calm. She didn't actually-even though it was her  birthday, she'd made no plans other than visiting her father, but she  certainly wasn't going to let Luca know that. 'And I know my job is  varied, but playing the part of wedding planner is really out of my  league.'

'The wedding is all taken care of.'

'So what do you need me for?'

'It would make things easier, to have someone there with me,' he admitted.

'You mean with you?' She was really shaking her head now. 'No, Luca, absolutely not. You could ask anyone … '

'But you're not going to go and get any stupid ideas,' Luca said. 'Emma,  you understand me. The last woman I brought home … ' He gave a small  swallow before he named her. 'Martha. I explained to her not to get  swept away, that my family would assume we were serious, that they would  think that there was a wedding imminent. She assured me she understood,  except when we got there … '

'Things changed?'

Luca nodded. 'I can't face going; I can't stand the thought of being in  the same house for two, maybe three nights on my own.' He looked at her  then, at her dark curls bobbing, at the mouth that could always somehow  make him laugh, at the body he thought of at night now. This was the one  way he could do it-with the one woman who could make hell bearable  right now beside him.

Even if it meant he would soon have to say goodbye to her …

'I thought that with you there … '

'Did you really think I'd say yes?' Emma demanded. 'Well, obviously you did if the travel team already know about it.'

'I was going to speak to you later this afternoon. I didn't realise the meeting had been brought forward.'

'Well, the answer would have been the same-no!'

'You're making this a bigger deal than it is!' he protested.

'It's a very big deal to me! Anyway, there are any number of women who  would be more than happy to accommodate you. Ask one of them.'

'My father's ill!' He played the sympathy card, but Emma just gave him a wide-eyed look.

'So is mine-but I'm not asking you to share a bed with me,' she retorted.

'He has just a couple of months to live,' Luca revealed.

'I'm sorry to hear that,' Emma responded, 'but I can't help. Look … ' she  was irritated now. More than irritated, she was angry at his assumption  that he could just go ahead and organise something like this without  even consulting her. 'I'm sorry he's ill, but-'

'I'm not sorry he's ill, Emma,' he interrupted her, his voice dark. 'I  hate my father-really, the end cannot come soon enough. My mother has  asked, pleaded that I come, that for one final time we put on the  D'Amato show … '

'The D'Amato show?' Emma frowned, but Luca didn't elaborate.

'I cannot face it.' She'd never heard him anything other than assured  and the plea for understanding in his voice momentarily swayed her. 'I'm  asking you because I know you get it … '

'Get what?'

'Me!' For the first time he looked uncomfortable. 'I have no interest in  marriage, no interest in settling down-not ever. You understand … ' he  gave an irritated shrug ' … that this would be strictly business.'