The Sicilian's Secret Son

She stiffened. ‘Patient? It’s been little more than twenty-four hours since you arrived!’

‘Which is twenty-four hours more than I can afford to spare,’ he said sharply. ‘I have obligations, work responsibilities in Sicily.’

‘Oh! Well!’ She spun, anger uncharacteristically getting the better of her. ‘Heaven forbid your son should keep you from your work!’ she snapped, pushing her face close to his.

A mistake, she realised two seconds before his jaw clenched and unclenched and a dangerous cocktail of anger and heat flashed like sheet lightning in his dark eyes. He growled low in his throat, and then he pulled her roughly against him, dipped his head, and covered her mouth with his.

For a second she froze, and then heat slammed through her body, wiping her brain of everything but her awareness of Luca’s powerful body flush against hers and the incredible sensation of being kissed by him again after all these years.

It was everything she remembered and more. More intense. More intimate. Hotter. So hot she could no longer feel the cold night air against her skin. Before she realised what she was doing, she rose on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts against his chest and parting her lips in wanton encouragement.

He went deeper and their tongues tangled intimately—and then the sounds of multiple voices and boisterous laughter carried from the gardens below.

Their mouths jerked apart.

Shocked back to her senses, Annah pulled out of his embrace.

Luca swore in Italian and shoved his hand through his hair.

On trembling legs, Annah turned back to the view of the pool and gardens, leaning against the wrought-iron railing for support, her whole body quivering in the aftermath of their kiss.

After a long moment, Luca came and stood beside her, his hands gripping the iron railing. ‘Is this what you want for Ethan?’ he said in a low, controlled voice. ‘Two parents arguing over him?’

‘No,’ she whispered, feeling drained and utterly wretched all of a sudden. ‘It’s not.’

Silence reigned for a full minute.

‘Come to Sicily,’ Luca said.

She turned her head to look at him. ‘What?’

‘Bring Ethan for a holiday. Stay for a week, two weeks, however long you want. You can see the family estate for yourself. See that it’s safe. We’ll have more time to discuss custody arrangements. And you can meet my mother.’

His mother. The wife of Franco Cavallari.

As if he’d read her thoughts, Luca said, ‘She didn’t know about you or Ethan. She was devastated to learn what my father had done. It would mean a lot to her to meet her grandson.’

Annah pursed her lips. Emotional blackmail? Unfair. ‘When?’

‘Return with me tomorrow.’

She stared at him. ‘I can’t. Chloe and I are doing a wedding on Saturday. And Ethan and I don’t even have passports.’

‘I can expedite those. How long will you need on Saturday?’

‘We’re usually done by midday.’

‘Then we can fly in the afternoon.’

Annah’s head spun at a dizzying rate. Private jets. Expedited passports. A week in Sicily.

A little voice told her she could say no, but what then?

Luca was in her and Ethan’s lives now, and he’d made it abundantly clear he wasn’t going away. Sooner or later she’d have to deal with him—or his lawyers.

She

dragged in a breath of the cool night air and puffed it out on a single word of surrender. ‘Okay.’