The Sicilian's Secret Son

‘In summer it’s packed and not so pleasant,’ Luca had said. ‘But the water won’t get warm enough for swimming for another month.’

Ethan still would have gone in if she’d let him, but he’d settled for paddling in the shallows and playing in the sand. Later, at the villa, Eva joined them for an early supper while Luca caught up on some work. Still buzzing, Ethan had regaled his grandmother with a long-winded account of his day.

Annah looked at Luca. ‘Thank you for today,’ she said softly. ‘He had a wonderful time.’

Their gazes held for a long moment and then suddenly, without warning, and for no reason Annah could pinpoint, tears filled her eyes. Feeling stupid, she put her glass down, got up and walked to the edge of the terrace where the pool of light from the outdoor lamps met the darkness.

‘Annah.’

Luca’s voice, so bone-meltingly rich and deep, came from behind her. His hands wrapped around her upper arms and eased her back against his hard body, reminding her of the night at Fendalton Hall when she’d stalked away from the dinner table and he’d come after her—and then kissed her. She’d wanted him then and she wanted him now, more than ever.

‘Cara.’ His big hands stroked up and down her arms. ‘What is it?’

Angry at herself, she blinked away her tears. Why was she so emotional? She inhaled deeply, catching the soothing scents of rosemary and jasmine from the gardens below—and a hint of spicy cologne from the man behind her.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘I just... I can’t stop thinking how unfair it is that you and Ethan missed out on four years of knowing each other.’ She turned in his arms and looked up at him. ‘How could your father have done that to you? Luca, he told me to have an abortion—to get rid of his own grandchild.’ She shook her head, her horror and disbelief as fresh and heart-wrenching as if she’d squared off with Franco Cavallari only yesterday. ‘Why?’ she said, her eyes searching his. ‘Help me understand why our son spent the first four years of his life not knowing his father.’

Something bleak moved through Luca’s eyes. Something that made Annah shiver.

‘Come back to the warmth,’ he said, drawing her by the hand to a wicker sofa instead of the chairs.

They sat on the cushions, their bodies angled towards each other. Luca’s arm stretched along the top of the sofa, his hand close to Annah’s shoulder.

‘I was sixteen when I learnt what my father was truly capable of,’ he said, his voice gruff but controlled. ‘It was the worst moment of my life up until then. It turned everything I thought I knew about him into a lie and yet... I couldn’t accept it. Couldn’t believe the man I’d idolised as a boy existed only in my head.’

His lips twisted into a bitter smile. ‘I was naive enough—and arrogant enough—to believe I could change him, turn him into the man I wanted him to be. I went to university in the States then came back and joined the family business, thinking I’d convince him to legitimise our operations.’

Annah waited, her heart clenching in her chest because she knew there was no happy ending to this story.

‘I actually thought I was succeeding.’ His short bark of laughter was devoid of humour. ‘But Franco played me. Sent me to London to acquire and manage a transport company. Let me think he was cleaning up his act, turning over a new leaf. But the drugs, the money laundering... He never intended to stop.’

Luca moved his hand along the top of the sofa and gently caught a tendril of her hair between his fingers. ‘I finally confronted him a few days before I met you. Franco was livid when I threatened to walk. Said I’d never be welcomed back.’ He paused, gaze fixed on his fingers as he toyed absently with her hair. ‘It was the last time we ever spoke to each other.’

Annah thought back to that night in London, recalling the glimpses of something darker beneath the surface of Luca’s charm. No wonder.

He carried on. ‘Perhaps sending you away was my father’s idea of revenge.’ He shook his head, his eyes meeting hers, something stark and desolate in them. ‘You should never have had to face him. I should have considered the possibility of consequences, given you a contact number—’

Annah laid her fingers against his lips. ‘Don’t,’ she said, and all the tumbling, twisting emotions she couldn’t get a handle on today suddenly flooded into her chest and made her heart hurt unbearably. Her eyes prickled again, and she didn’t blink fast enough this time; tears escaped, one from each eye, the drops hovering on her lashes for a second before trickling down her cheeks.

Luca’s arms came around her and she didn’t resist; it felt too good. She pressed her face against his shoulder, letting his warmth and scent envelop her, accepting comfort. Just for a moment. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, her voice muffled against his tear-dampened shirt. ‘I don’t know why I’m so emotional.’

He eased her back, framed her face with his hands, and brushed his thumbs across her wet cheeks. With astonishing tenderness he kissed her forehead, and then his hands slid to her shoulders as if to gently set her away.

Everything in her protested. ‘No,’ she whispered, her hand tangling in the front of his shirt, her gaze dropping to his mouth.

Awareness sizzled in the air.

‘Annah.’ Her name was a deep rasp in his throat.

She lifted her eyes back to his, saw they were dark and molten. Emboldened by the desire she saw there, she let her hand slide to the front of his trousers and found him gratifyingly hard. She cupped him and heard his breath hiss between his teeth. ‘You want me,’ she said huskily.

His jaw was rigid. ‘You’re upset. Vulnerable. I won’t take advan—’

Annah brought her mouth to his, silencing his chivalrous protest.

For long, excruciating seconds, nothing happened. A silent plea rang in her head. Kiss me back!

Finally, a low groan rose up his throat, and then he dragged her against the hard heat of his body and moved his mouth against hers. Relief flickered, followed by a surge of excitement, a wave of heat and need that sent her pulse rate into the stratosphere.