father, Benjamin Barber. And not one thing that Luciano learned in the subsequent conversation made him feel happier. Instead he came off that call marvelling at the older man’s optimistic and forgiving outlook while feeling a great deal worse about his own opinions, suspicions and activities. Knowing that the least he owed Jemima was a polite warning about what he had done, he mounted the stairs again and knocked on her bedroom door.
Half asleep after her delicious meal, Jemima rolled off the bed and lifted her tray, assuming someone was calling back to collect it. Instead she was faced with Luciano, infuriatingly immaculate again in tailored chinos and a black tee shirt. ‘Yes?’ she said discouragingly, clutching the tray and feeling horribly irritated that she had not known it would be him at her door.
He leant down and took the tray, setting it down on the table to the side of the door. ‘I have something to tell you—’
‘Can’t it wait until breakfast time?’
‘I’m afraid not.’ Soft pink mouth compressed, Jemima grudgingly stood back to allow him into her room. Since she had no idea what he had to say to her, keeping him out in the corridor where their conversation could be overheard struck her as risky.
‘I spoke to your father an hour ago and we talked for quite some time.’
Transfixed by that staggering announcement, Jemima stared back at him in horror. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I phoned your father and he’s now aware that you were pretending to be your sister for my benefit,’ Luciano divulged.
‘Oh, my goodness...how could you do that?’ Jemima was aghast at the news. ‘I just can’t believe you told him!’
‘The investigators my lawyer employed had already contacted him and it made sense for me to address my questions to your father direct. He was troubled that you hadn’t told him what you were doing but he understands why you did what you did and he wants you to know that he forgives you. I had to warn you in case you were planning to phone home.’
Knees weakening, Jemima sank down on the foot of the bed and bowed her head into her raised hands. ‘I can’t believe you approached Dad... I’ve tried so hard to keep my parents out of all this!’ she exclaimed reproachfully.
‘I wanted a clearer picture of what happened and you’re too emotionally involved,’ Luciano drawled in self-defence. ‘It was...enlightening to hear the facts from your father’s point of view.’
‘I hate you!’ Jemima flung at him furiously. ‘You had no right to go snooping and interfering!’
‘I’m as trapped in the mess your sister left behind her as you are,’ Luciano contradicted coolly. ‘The legal ramifications of her having stolen your identity will take a long time to unravel. She gave birth to a child using your name. She contracted debts in your name and she broke the law using your name—’
Jemima flew upright in one tempestuous movement. ‘Do you think I don’t know all that?’
‘She took advantage of you and your parents,’ Luciano delivered grimly.
‘There’s no way my father said that!’ Jemima accused furiously.
‘Your father is a rather unworldly man and I imagine he has had little contact with the criminal element. I’m rather less innocent and much more accustomed to dealing with life’s users and abusers.’
‘Bully for you!’ Jemima snapped back childishly, marching back to her bedroom door and dragging it open in invitation. ‘Right now all I want to do is go to bed and forget you ever existed!’
Luciano lifted his hand and a forefinger flicked the full tense line of her lower lip in reproof. ‘What a little liar you can be. Without me there would be no Niccolò...and somehow I don’t think you’d give him up so easily.’
The touch of his hand against her lip made her entire skin surface tingle. Her breathing quickened and she pressed her thighs together to suppress the tiny clenching liquid sensation low in her pelvis. Her lashes swept up fully to collide with stunning dark golden eyes welded to her every move and change of expression. Her cheeks coloured, her lashes swept down and she backed away from him, furious that without even trying he could still get a physical reaction out of her.
‘Goodnight,’ she said flatly.
Luciano wanted to scoop her up and carry her back to his bed. It was pure lust, he told himself furiously, the sort of irrational, ungovernable lust that sent a man into cold showers and the depths of neurotic desire. And unlike his late and unlamented father, who had once become obsessed with a woman, Luciano was not the obsessive type. He stayed up late working and by the time he finally fell into bed he was too exhausted to do anything but sleep.
The next morning, Jemima felt more like herself and less traumatised. The truth had come out and she couldn’t hide from it. Lying had gone against her nature and weighted her conscience and she was relieved not to be pretending any more. Her parents knew. She chewed her lower lip and decided to phone home that evening, although she dreaded dealing with her father’s disappointment in her behaviour. Luciano and Nicky, however, were an even bigger challenge.
Presumably over breakfast Luciano would tell her what he wanted to do next and when she would be flying home. She had lied to him. She might have convinced herself that she had lied for her nephew’s sake but in her heart she knew she was lying to herself. In reality, she had not been able to face parting with Nicky and that had been selfish when Nicky’s father was available to take charge of his son. While she thought unhappily about her mistakes, she rooted through her suitcase, grimacing at the reality that there was really nothing in her case suitable for a hot day. At least nothing presentable, she affixed ruefully, choosing not to examine why what she wore had to be more presentable than usual when Luciano was around. After a few moments, she stalked into the dressing room and skimmed through the hanging dresses. What would he do with them after she had gone? Chuck them out? Pass them on to staff or recycling? She lifted down a fitted blue cotton sundress, plainer in style and less revealing than most of the other garments, and began to get ready.
Seated on the floor in the nursery, Nicky was happily playing with his new toys. Carlotta was friendly, addressing Jemima in broken English to let her know that he had slept well and eaten. A maid met Jemima at the foot of the stairs to show her where she was to go to join Luciano. They trekked across the vast building, mounting stairs and crossing hallways before walking down a long picture gallery that opened to an outdoor area that overlooked the sea and the shore.
The panoramic view and the sunlight blinded her and she had a split-second sizzling snapshot of Luciano, rising with fluid grace from his seat, his lean, powerful body sheathed in an exquisitely cut pale grey suit teamed with a black shirt. ‘Buon giorno,’ he murmured smoothly. ‘You look amazing.’
Jemima flushed. ‘Let’s not get carried away,’ she told him reprovingly. ‘I’m wearing this because it’s so hot and I have nothing suitable and—’
‘Rest assured I will not assume that you are wearing it either to please or attract me, piccolo mia,’ Luciano incised as drily as though he could read her mind.
Her flushed cheeks turned a solid mortified red and she averted her eyes as she dropped down hurriedly into a seat. Dishes were proffered by one manservant, beverages by another. Her attention briefly falling on the bodyguards standing several yards away, it occurred to her that Luciano lived rather like a king in a medieval court with an army of staff and everyone bowing and scraping
