Victor gave her a pleasant smile and she wondered if he was packing a gun beneath his pinstriped suit. He extended his hand. ‘Welcome, Miss Sinclair.’
Stretching her mouth into something she hoped resembled a smile, Annah shook his hand and managed a polite, ‘Thank you.’
Victor’s attention turned to Ethan and for a moment the man’s expression was utterly arrested. He quietly cleared his throat and leaned down. ‘And this must be Master Ethan.’
Ethan slipped his hand from Annah’s and stuck it out. ‘It’s just Ethan,’ he told the butler, drawing looks of amusement from the adults around him. Even the stern expression worn by the older of the two women softened.
‘Just Ethan it is.’ Victor’s eyes twinkled, but his tone indulged rather than mocked, and it occurred to Annah that everyone here knew who Ethan was. That he was their employer’s son—a Cavallari regardless of what surname he bore—and, as such, would be afforded a certain level of respect.
Victor straightened, then introduced the women. The elder of the two was the housekeeper, Gabriela, who confined her greeting to a courteous dip of her head. The younger woman, Celeste, had a nervous smile but, like Victor, a good grasp of English.
Victor said, ‘Celeste will be your personal maid while you’re here.’
Annah couldn’t imagine why she’d need a personal maid but, not wanting to offend the girl, she kept the thought to herself.
‘Where is my mother?’ asked Luca.
‘She is unwell,’ Victor said. ‘A headache.’ He sent Annah a look of apology. ‘Signora Cavallari asked me to express her regret that she is unable to greet you. She looks forward to meeting you when she is feeling better.’ He looked at Luca. ‘I am afraid she
will not be dining with you this evening.’
Luca’s expression tightened. ‘Very well.’ He turned to Annah. ‘Celeste will get you and Ethan settled into your rooms. What time does Ethan have his evening meal?’
‘Soon.’
He checked his watch. ‘I need to do a couple of hours’ work.’ His gaze lifted to hers. ‘Will you join me for supper once Ethan’s asleep?’
A churlish part of her wanted to say no. To cry off with a headache like his mother had. Or tell him she simply wasn’t in the mood for his company. But she was conscious of his staff listening to their exchange. She nodded. ‘Fine.’
His features relaxed a fraction. ‘Good. In the meantime, let Celeste know if you need anything. If you’d like something specific prepared for Ethan’s meal, tell Celeste and she’ll instruct—’ His gaze darted to a point beyond her shoulder. ‘Ethan!’
Luca’s shout made Annah jump. Heart catapulting into her throat, she swung around. Ethan was frozen in the act of walking towards a large Doberman, his arm raised as if to pat the dog’s head. That the Doberman was on a leash and restrained by a guard, who was already moving to place himself between Ethan and the animal, didn’t lessen Annah’s alarm.
She rushed over and scooped Ethan up. His bottom lip quivered. ‘It’s all right, sweetheart.’ She propped him on her hip, hoping he couldn’t feel her heart pounding furiously against her chest. ‘You’re not in trouble. We just don’t want you to touch the dog. It’s a working dog, not a pet.’ She threw Luca a dark look, strode past him, and spoke to Celeste. ‘Would you please show us to our rooms now?’
The girl’s eyes flicked nervously to Luca and then back to Annah. ‘Sì. Of course.’
She felt the weight of Luca’s gaze pressing on her back like a hot hand as she followed Celeste into the villa. She gritted her teeth against the tingling that raced up her spine. How could her body react when he wasn’t even touching her? She was too aware of him. Too distracted by the sensations he stirred within her. Why else had she lowered her guard enough to let him talk her into bringing Ethan here?
A mistake.
One she planned to rectify at the first opportunity.
CHAPTER SIX
LUCA LIFTED HIS wine glass from the table, took a long sip, and watched Annah shuffle a piece of stuffed artichoke from one side of her plate to the other with her fork.
She had turned up for dinner wearing no jewellery, no make-up, a trousers-and-top outfit all in black, and a ponytail that pulled her blonde hair back in a rather severe fashion.
Luca wondered if her stark appearance was a deliberate choice to reflect her mood.
Whatever her intent, the end result didn’t diminish her beauty.
It occurred to him that if his mother had bothered to make an appearance, she and Annah would have co-ordinated perfectly given that Eva Cavallari had worn nothing but black since her husband’s death.
The perfect mourning widow, Luca thought grimly. As meekly dutiful now as when her husband had been alive.
He pushed aside thoughts of his mother.