The Sicilian's Secret Son

She pushed back her chair and stood. ‘I’m sorry, too. I’ve lost my appetite.’

She walked around the end of the formal dining table towards the door. Luca rose quickly and blocked her path. When she went to step around him, he put his hands on her upper arms to restrain her.

‘Our son is half-Sicilian,’ he said quietly, tilting his head to catch her eye. ‘Half-Cavallari. He belongs here, in my world, as much as he belongs with you in England.’

She twisted her face to the side, her eyes skating away from his. Because she knew he spoke the truth?

He trailed his gaze down the slender length of her neck.

The sudden thought of setting his mouth against her creamy flesh, sliding his tongue over the sensitive spot between neck and shoulder that he knew would make her body bow with pleasure, was so powerful his hands tightened reflexively on her biceps and drew her closer.

Her gaze snapped back to his and awareness arced in the air like a zap of electricity.

He wanted her. As desperately and urgently as he’d wanted her five years ago in London.

But he couldn’t afford to act on his urges. He needed her trust. Her co-operation. With or without it, he would claim his parental rights, but he’d rather not have to do so via an acrimonious custody battle.

Exerting as much self-control as he could muster, he settled for pressing a kiss to her temple.

He closed his eyes for a second. Her skin felt soft and warm against his lips and her subtle floral scent enveloped his senses. His nerve endings leapt. It was all he could do to set her away from him. He looked down at her. ‘Stay. Give me the week you promised. I’ll show you that your concerns are unfounded.’

He watched the delicate cords in her throat work.

Finally, she blew out a breath and nodded. ‘All right.’ She glanced at their unfinished meals. ‘I’m sorry about dinner, but it was an early start this morning with the wedding and I’m tired. And it’s Ethan’s first night in unfamiliar surroundings. If he wakes and finds me gone...’

Luca shoved his hands in his trouser pockets as she rattled off her excuses to escape his company. He shrugged. ‘Go. Rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Relief washed across her features. Without another word, she turned and fled the room. Luca watched her go, then glanced at the table. He too had lost his appetite for food. Too bad his other hunger hadn’t waned. Unfortunately, he knew only two solutions for that—satisfy it or kill it. Resigning himself to the latter, he headed to his room for a cold shower.

* * *

Coward.

The word echoed in Annah’s head as she hurried away from the formal dining room and ascended the sweeping staircase to the second floor, where her and Ethan’s suite of rooms was located.

She’d nursed her anger for a good two hours before dinner and then, when she’d finally had the opportunity to express it, to verbalise her feelings, her at

tempt had been feeble. Pathetic.

The trouble was, she had no experience dealing with conflict. She was an only child. Her mother hadn’t been around half the time when she was growing up. She had no siblings to argue with. When problems had arisen she’d faced them alone, internalising her emotions because she’d had no one to confide in.

At a young age, she had learned to be self-sufficient.

Since then, her business partnership with Chloe had taught her about teamwork, but she and Chloe shared a similar work ethic and rarely disagreed on anything. When they did, neither got angry and a civilised conversation over a glass of wine usually did the trick.

With a deep sigh, she pushed open the door to the bedroom that was so lovely she’d gasped the first time she’d walked into it. Pale sea-green walls, handcrafted furniture and a big bed covered in gorgeous, snowy linens had filled her with reluctant delight—as had the adjoining sitting room with its balcony overlooking the landscaped gardens, and the connected bedroom for Ethan that was slightly smaller but no less sumptuous.

She pulled up short at the sight of her suitcase open on the floor. Celeste turned around, a bundle of Annah’s underwear clutched in her hand.

‘What are you doing?’ Annah said.

‘Unpacking your things.’ The maid’s smile was tinged with disappointment. ‘I thought you would be gone longer. I wanted to have it done before you got back.’

Annah strode over and quickly relieved Celeste of the underwear items, most of which were old, faded pairs of plain cotton knickers. Her cheeks turned hot with embarrassment. ‘Thank you. But that’s not necessary.’ She was perfectly capable of unpacking her own bag and would have done so already had she not convinced herself that she and Ethan were going home tomorrow.

She frowned at the thought of how easily Luca had changed her mind.

One shiver-inducing brush of his lips against her temple and she’d turned into a weak-kneed pushover.