Modern Romance July 2016 Books 5-8. Кейт Хьюит

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job meant too much to her to flaunt them. She’d just hit Send when Luca emerged from his office, shrugging on his suit jacket and checking his watch.

      ‘Mr Moretti?’

      ‘You’ll need suitable clothes for this weekend.’

      Hannah blinked. ‘Of course.’

      ‘I don’t mean that.’ Luca gestured to her clothes, and Hannah was unable to keep from looking down at her professional yet understated outfit. She took pride in how she dressed, and she made sure to buy as high quality clothes as she could afford.

      ‘I’m sorry...?’

      ‘This weekend is as much a social occasion as a business one,’ he explained tersely. ‘You’ll need appropriate clothing—evening gowns and the like.’

      Evening gowns? She certainly didn’t have any of those in her wardrobe, and couldn’t imagine the need for them. ‘As your PA—’

      ‘As my PA you need to be dressed appropriately. This isn’t going to be a board meeting.’

      ‘What is it, exactly? Because I’m not sure—’

      ‘Think of it more as a weekend house party with a little business thrown in.’

      Which made it even more mystifying as to why he needed her along.

      ‘I’m afraid I don’t own any evening gowns—’ Hannah began, and Luca shrugged her words aside.

      ‘That’s easy enough to take care of.’ He slid his smartphone out of his pocket and thumbed a few buttons before speaking rapidly in Italian. Although she heard the occasional familiar word, Hannah had no idea what he’d said or who he’d called.

      A few minutes later he disconnected the call and nodded towards Hannah. ‘Sorted. You’ll accompany me to Diavola after work.’

      ‘Diavola...?’

      ‘You know the boutique?’

      She’d heard of it. It was an incredibly high-end fashion boutique in Mayfair. She might have walked past the elegant sashed windows once, seen a single dress hanging there in an elegant fall of shimmery silk, no price tag visible.

      She swallowed hard, striving to seem calm, as if this whole, unexpected venture hadn’t completely thrown her. ‘That might be a bit out of my price range—’

      ‘I will pay, of course.’ His brows snapped together as he frowned at her. ‘It’s all part of the business expense. I’d hardly expect you to buy a gown you’ll only be wearing because of your work.’

      ‘Very well.’ She tried not to squirm under his fierce gaze. She felt as if he was examining her and she was not meeting his expectations, which was disconcerting, as she always had before. She took pride in how well she performed her job. Luca Moretti had never had any cause to criticise her. ‘Thank you.’

      ‘We’ll leave in an hour,’ Luca said, and strode back into his office.

      Hannah spent a frantic hour finishing up her work and making arrangements for the trip, ensuring that each part of the journey could accommodate an extra passenger. She knew Luca was staying with his client, hotelier Andrew Tyson, and she hesitated to contact the man directly to make sure there was an extra bedroom. It seemed a bit cheeky, asking for a room for herself in the tycoon’s luxurious villa, but what else could she do?

      She was just composing an email to Andrew Tyson’s PA when Luca came out of his office, shrugging into his suit jacket, his face settling into a frown as he caught sight of her.

      ‘Aren’t you ready?’

      ‘I’m sorry, I’m just emailing Mr Tyson’s PA—’

      His frown deepened. ‘What for?’

      ‘To arrange for an extra bedroom—’

      ‘That won’t be necessary,’ Luca said swiftly, and then leaned over and closed her laptop with a snap.

      Hannah stared at him, too surprised to mask the emotion. ‘But if I don’t email—’

      ‘It’s taken care of.’

      ‘It is?’

      ‘Don’t question me, Hannah. And in future please leave all communications with Mr Tyson to me.’

      Stung, she recoiled a bit at his tone. ‘I’ve always—’

      ‘This negotiation is delicate. I’ll explain the particulars later. Now let’s go. I have a lot of things to do tonight besides buy you some clothes.’

      Her cheeks burned at his dismissive tone. Her boss was often restless and impatient, but he wasn’t rude. Was it her fault that her wardrobe wasn’t that of a socialite? Wordlessly she rose from her desk and took her laptop, about to slide it into her messenger bag.

      ‘Leave that.’

      ‘My laptop?’ She stared at him, flummoxed. ‘But I’ll need it if we’re to work on the plane—’

      ‘It won’t be necessary.’

      A finger of unease crept along her spine. Something felt very off about this weekend, and yet she could not imagine what it was. ‘Mr Moretti, I don’t understand...’

      ‘What is there to understand? You’re accompanying me on a weekend that is as much a social occasion as it is a business one. I’m asking you to use some sensitivity and discretion, as the situation is delicate. Is that beyond your capabilities, Miss Stewart?’

      Her face burned at being given such a dressing-down. ‘No, of course not.’

      ‘Good.’ He nodded towards the lift doors. ‘Now let’s go.’

      Stiff with affront, Hannah took her coat and followed Luca to the lift. She waited, staring straight ahead, trying to master her irritation, until the doors pinged open and Luca gestured for her to go in first. She did so, and as he followed her she was conscious in an entirely new way of how he filled the space of the lift. Surely they’d ridden in the lift together before, many times. Yet now, as Luca stabbed the button for the ground floor, she felt how big he was. How male. His shoulders strained the seams of his suit jacket, and his rangy, restless energy made the very air seem as if it were charged. She snuck a glance at his profile, the square jaw shadowed with stubble, the straight nose and angular cheekbones. Long, surprisingly lush lashes, and hard, dark eyes.

      Hannah knew women flocked to Luca Moretti. They were attracted to his air of restless remoteness as much as his blatant sexuality and effortless charisma. Perhaps they fooled themselves into thinking they could tame or trap him; no one ever could. Hannah had kept more than one tearful beauty from her boss’s door. He never thanked her for that little service; he acted as if the women who practically threw themselves at him didn’t exist, at least not outside the bedroom. Or so Hannah assumed—she had no idea how Luca Moretti acted in the bedroom.

      Just the thought sent a blush heating her cheeks now, even though she was still annoyed with his uncharacteristically terse attitude. High-handed she could take, when it was tempered

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