The Sicilian's Secret Son

Annah’s eyes zoned in on the object. Her jaw dropped. ‘Is that pepper spray?’

‘No!’ Chloe gave her an outraged look. ‘Are you kidding? I live with a copper. Ben would kill me—or arrest me—if I had real pepper spray.’ She held up the canister. ‘This is a perfectly legal defence spray. I never visit London without it.’

Annah frowned and shook her head. ‘I don’t need that.’

‘Are you sure?’ Chloe bit her lip. ‘I mean, really sure? Because this...’ she pointed a finger at her face ‘...this cheerful thing I’m trying to do? It’s not working.’ Her shoulders slumped and her pretty face creased with genuine concern. ‘I’m worried, Annah,’ she confessed. ‘And so is Ben. How do you know you can trust this guy?’

Annah had asked herself the same question a dozen times. She looked at her friend. ‘Honestly? I don’t know how I know. I just do. It’s a gut feeling, I guess.’ And so far, Luca had given her no reason not to trust him. He’d behaved like a perfect gentleman yesterday. And the way he’d been with Ethan—so gentle and kind—had brought a lump to her throat. ‘I can’t explain it,’ she said with a one-shouldered shrug. ‘But I honestly don’t believe he would do anything to harm me or Ethan.’

Chloe vented a heavy sigh. ‘Okay, then.’ She returned the spray to her bag. ‘But if he so much as lays a finger on you—’ her expression turned adorably fierce ‘—he’ll have me and Ben and the entire local constabulary to answer to!’

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Annah drove up the stately, oak-lined driveway to the entrance of Fendalton Hall. In the darkness she couldn’t appreciate the views, but she knew that acres of landscaped grounds and beautiful gardens surrounded her.

An enormous Elizabethan mansion that’d been painstakingly renovated and transformed into an exclusive hotel and spa, Fendalton Hall catered to the kind of guest who could afford to flit in and out for a few days of world-class luxury and indulgent pampering whenever the mood took them.

Several of her and Chloe’s past clients—the ones for whom money was no object—had held their wedding ceremonies and receptions at the beautiful upmarket locale. Impressed with their work, the hotel’s manager had contracted Scent Floral Boutique to design and install all the floral arrangements throughout the property.

Annah and Chloe took turns setting up fresh arrangements in the foyer and other areas twice a week, but this was the first time Annah had visited as a patron.

Nervous anticipation hummed through her veins as the big, grey stone manor loomed into view. Carefully, she eased her old-model hatchback into a gap between a low-slung sports car and a luxury sedan. Shutting off the engine, she pulled down her visor and looked in the mirror. Having run out of time to fuss with her hair, she’d pulled it into a low chignon and teased out some wispy bits around her face. She adjusted one of the pins, then grabbed her bag off the passenger seat and headed inside to the restaurant.

After she’d given Luca’s name to the maître d’, the man took her coat and led her to a candlelit table set with white linen, silver cutlery and sparkling glassware. The restaurant was busy, but the table’s location in a secluded corner offered privacy from the other diners.

Luca was already there, and he rose to his feet, tall and shockingly handsome in a white open-necked shirt and dark trousers. He stepped towards her and leaned forward, lightly kissing her cheek, and this time, unlike yesterday, Annah was prepared for the shock of his warm lips against her skin and the resultant flicker of heat that whispered through her.

‘You look lovely,’ he said.

Pleasure flared at the compliment, though she tried to tamp it down, reminding herself to keep a cool head. Of course Luca was going to lay on the charm. He needed her amenable and co-operative. Ultimately, this was a negotiation; he wanted access to their son, and right now she was the one thing standing between him and Ethan.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured, and slid into the chair the maître d’ had pulled out for her.

The first ten minutes were easy. They ordered drinks, perused the menus, asked their waiter to elaborate on a couple of the dishes, and ordered starters and mains.

And then they were alone.

Immediately, the air thickened.

Annah picked up her glass of Merlot and took a generous sip. She’d have to make a single glass last the entire meal given she was driving, but hopefully a small hit of alcohol on an empty stomach would shave the edge off her nerves.

Luca’s deep voice broke the silence. ‘Thank you for allowing me to spend time with you and Ethan yesterday. I appreciate this situation isn’t easy for you. If it’s any consolation, it is not easy for me, either.’

She set her glass down. ‘You didn’t give me much choice,’ she told him, a frown tugging her eyebrows together. ‘Turning up out of the blue like that.’

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His gaze sharpened on hers. ‘What would you have preferred? A letter from my lawyers?’

Her back snapped straight. Lawyers? Was that a warning shot across her bow? Letting her know he hadn’t pulled out the big guns but would do so if necessary? ‘You would have involved lawyers before you’d even confirmed Ethan was yours?’ she challenged.

‘If I’d had any doubts that he was mine,’ he said, ‘then, yes, I’d have had my lawyers formally request a paternity test.’

‘So you don’t want one anyway?’ she couldn’t help saying. ‘Just to be sure?’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Are you telling me Ethan’s paternity is in question? Because we can have him tested if necessary.’

Annah swallowed and sat back, her silly challenge falling miserably flat. A paternity test would work in Luca’s favour, not against him. ‘No,’ she said, lifting her wine glass. ‘It’s not necessary.’