‘Sicily is three hours away by plane.’
‘Plus travel time to London, two-hour check-in, travel delays. It’s quite a journey for a young boy—and presumably you’re suggesting he do this on a regular basis?’
Luca’s expression was smooth. Unperturbed. ‘He’ll travel on my corporate jet via Exeter. As you pointed out yourself, it’s only a thirty-minute drive away.’
Of course he’d already worked out the logistics—and of course he had a private plane. She sat back. ‘He starts school later this year. What then? Do we disrupt his schedule to suit you? Children need structure. Routine.’
‘He can come to me in the holidays.’ Luca’s voice was calm, but a hard, determined glint shone in his eyes. ‘If you’re concerned about his schooling, I will arrange for him to have tutors when he’s in Sicily.’
Annah’s stomach cramped. How foolish she’d been to think she’d come prepared for this conversation. She wasn’t prepared in the slightest.
Her mind raced with a hundred questions. A hundred objections.
‘Will he even be safe in Sicily?’
He frowned. ‘Ethan will always be safe with me. I’ve told you this.’
‘Is that why you travel with a bodyguard?’
‘Mario is here as my driver.’
‘And when you’re at home? In Sicily? Is he just a driver then?’
Luca pulled in a breath, blew it out slowly. ‘Annah. I know the things you heard about my father frightened you. But he’s gone. I am in charge now. Things are different. Better.’
His voice was low and soothing, but she didn’t want to be soothed. She wanted all of this to go away. She wanted Luca to disappear as suddenly as he’d arrived. She wanted to keep her beautiful boy all to herself.
A lump formed in her throat. She couldn’t lose her little boy. He was everything to her. Everything. ‘I think I need some air,’ she choked out.
He reached a hand across the table, but she pulled her wrist back, her pulse leaping at the very thought of his strong, warm hand touching hers again. She pushed her chair back from the table.
‘Where are you going?’ he demanded.
‘Outside.’
His brow creased. ‘It’s cold outside.’
‘I don’t care.’ She shot up from the table, turned and almost collided with the waiter delivering their dessert menus. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled, and then she fled the restaurant, descended the stairs, and slipped out through a set of French doors that she knew led to a terrace overlooking manicured gardens and a heated pool.
When she finally came to a stop, she breathed deeply, fighting the irritating sting of tears. A sense of futility swept over her. It didn’t matter how many arguments or counter-arguments she threw at Luca, he had a ready answer for everything.
And on one thing at least he was right, dammit: it was cold out here.
She hunched her shoulders, rubbed her bare arms, and considered her options. She could seek legal advice, but lawyers weren’t cheap. And even if the law supported her—which she suspected it might, because surely she wasn’t obligated to send her child overseas—Luca could still tie her up with legal proceedings for God knew how long.
And legalities aside, what about the moral dilemma? Was it right to deny Ethan that time with his father?
The back of her neck tingled, and she tensed as a presence loomed behind her. Then her coat came around her shoulders.
‘Cara.’
Luca. Still with that crushed-velvet voice that made her melt from the inside out. Annah had a childish urge to plug her fingers in her ears so she couldn’t hear him.
Big hands curled around her upper arms and gently pulled her back against a solid, muscular body. ‘Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,’ he said.
She wanted to shrug him off, but he was wonderfully warm, and the too-delicious sensation of being this close to him made her languid and weak-willed. ‘It’s too much,’ she said quietly, staring out over the illuminated gardens. ‘Too fast. I need time to get my head around all of this.’
‘I don’t have time. I need to return to Sicily. I want us to reach an understanding before I go.’ He took a deep breath, his chest expanding against her back. ‘I’ve tried to be understanding, Annah. Patient.’