The Italian's Love-Child. Emma Darcy

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      ‘What are you working on at the moment?’ she asked, hoping his answer would be long and distracting.

      He obligingly described his current project. The company had bought up old boatyards along the harbour shore at Balmain and Luc was designing a new apartment complex to be built on the site. She listened to the pleasure and satisfaction in his voice as he explained what he wanted constructed and how it would take advantage of the view, as well as catering for every modern aspect of living in the city.

      Clearly he enjoyed his work and the opportunity to have such lavish projects to work on. He might not recognise how deeply he was tied to the Peretti Corporation since it had always been there for him to step into, but Skye did.

      Big money at his fingertips.

      Big money to invest how he saw fit.

      Big money to spend how he pleased in his private life, as well.

      As long as he stayed where he belonged.

      Or was that being unfair, too? Luc had more than enough driving force to succeed in establishing himself anywhere, in any company, or on his own. Why couldn’t she just accept that he didn’t live in his father’s pocket?

      Because she couldn’t make the fear go away.

      It was too deeply rooted in past pain.

      ‘Do you still live at Cronulla?’ she asked, needing to know if he’d continued living with his family in the incredibly luxurious horseshoe compound facing the waterfront there.

      He shook his head. ‘Dad sold that place five years ago.’

      The timing made Skye wonder if Maurizio Peretti had decided to shift his family right away from the neighbouring suburb of Caringbah where Luc’s illegitimate child was possibly far too close for comfort.

      Luc flashed her an ironic look. ‘He upgraded to a heritage-listed mansion at Bellevue Hill.’

      Mega-bucks, she thought, plus getting way out of the range of any accidental meeting with the unsuitable woman and her child.

      ‘Big enough to house three generations of the family,’ Luc went on, his voice carrying a sardonic edge.

      Everything within Skye recoiled at the idea of living in the same house with his parents. It would be absolute madness to even consider marrying Luc if it meant co-habiting with his family. Regardless of how attractive he was to her, how good he was to Matt…

      ‘It hasn’t worked out that way,’ he said, forestalling the tortured impulse to reject his proposal here and now.

      ‘Oh?’ It was more a choked gasp than a query. Skye was appalled at how wildly hope had galloped over despair.

      ‘Roberto obligingly brought his bride home—’ Luc’s riveting dark eyes glittered derisively ‘—the bride my father had hand-picked for me, except I didn’t oblige.’

      ‘So Roberto married her instead?’ She shook her head, shocked that such a switch would be made in so serious a life commitment.

      Luc shrugged. ‘He was happy to. And I’m sure Gaia found Roberto a more charming husband than I would have been. Besides which, it was a very advantageous marriage on both sides. Unfortunately, even the best-laid plans can go astray. Gaia was still childless when Roberto died, and has since returned to her own family.’

      ‘You’re not expected to…to console his widow?’

      ‘I doubt my father would wish me to take a wife who might not be able to produce the grandchildren he wants,’ he answered cynically. ‘Gaia suffered two miscarriages in her short marriage to Roberto.’

      It was revolting to Skye to think of any woman being regarded as a baby-making machine. On the other hand, Roberto’s wife had probably been sadly disappointed herself not to have had a much-wanted child.

      ‘I’m sure your father can find you another suitable wife for his dynastic ambitions,’ she tossed at Luc, knowing she should never take on that role herself.

      ‘I won’t marry anyone but you, Skye.’

      His eyes burned with unshakeable purpose, making her too agitated to even pretend to eat any more. She put down her knife and fork, willing herself to face him with her own determination. ‘It won’t work,’ she stated bluntly.

      He set down his cutlery and focused on her, the whole concentrated power of his energy coming at her full blast. ‘I’ll make it work.’

      She leaned forward, fighting for her independence again. ‘If you think, for one moment, I’d live under the same roof as…’

      ‘I don’t live there myself,’ he added. ‘I moved out when Roberto married. Bought my own apartment at Bondi Beach.’

      Her mind whirled at this apparent disconnection to his family, though it quickly seized on the fact that the suburb of Bondi was right next to Bellevue Hill. ‘Not far from them,’ spilled from her mouth.

      ‘Far enough to have separate lives,’ he retorted.

      Separate… Skye paused to catch her breath. Was she making bogey-men of everything, snatching at whatever fed her fear of the power his family had to hurt? Luc was proving at every point he was his own man. And he had been hurt, too, by the dreadful deception that had been played to make him turn his back on her.

      ‘Why did you move out?’ she asked, wondering if there had been some earlier rift between him and his family.

      He shrugged. ‘I didn’t care to have the happiness of Roberto’s marriage rubbed in my face every day.’

      Her insecurities surged again. ‘Regrets for rejecting it yourself, Luc?’

      ‘None at all. I wished my brother well with it.’

      ‘Then why did it upset you?’

      ‘It didn’t upset me. I knew my father would constantly use it as leverage to get me to fall into line with his plans, which would end up being unpleasant for everyone, so I removed myself from the situation.’

      ‘While still maintaining your relationship with your family,’ she said, pressing to ascertain just how important it was to him.

      ‘I had the choice of coming and going as I pleased.’

      ‘Did you ever miss a special family occasion?’

      ‘I just did.’

      Again she felt her defensive mat being swept out from under her feet. ‘What was it?’ she asked, needing to know how much it meant.

      His eyes glittered a joyless challenge. ‘You remember the Easter Sunday luncheon you attended with me six years ago?’

      The memory leapt vividly to mind—the huge luncheon party, and feeling like a fish out of water amongst all the Italian families, people engaging Luc in conversation and subtly ignoring her presence. Not obvious snubs, but definitely left out in the cold while warmth was overflowing everywhere else. It

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