‘I’m not protected, Luc.’
‘I’ll take care of it.’
The smooth reply was meant to soothe away the fear, but it was a sharp reminder that he hadn’t cared last time, had actually hoped she’d fallen pregnant. She turned to face him, her eyes searching for truth. ‘Will you?’ she asked, needing to know there was no manipulation of her vulnerability intended—no thought of future entrapment. The gift of love should be a free gift, if this was what it was.
He lifted a hand and gently stroked the anxiety from her facial muscles, his eyes promising safety with him as he answered, ‘If we make another child, it will only be when we both want to. A planned baby, Skye, not conceived by accident nor a lack of forethought.’
‘You came prepared for…for…’
‘I hoped.’
‘You aimed for it,’ she wryly corrected him, running her fingers down the bared strip of chest his unbuttoned shirt had left open for her touch—a temptation beyond bearing any longer.
‘Why wouldn’t I? You’re the woman I want above all others.’
The man she wanted above all others.
He dropped his hand to her shoulder, fingertips drawing the strap of her sundress over to her arm. ‘Do you want to stop me, Skye?’
‘No.’ She sucked in a deep breath, relaxing as it shuddered out again. ‘No one can take this away.’
Maybe they could create a small world together—a place of survival for the love they could share, sheltered from the storms that might rage around them, trying to break in and tear them apart.
She wanted it to be possible.
The magic of touching like this…making love…
Was it strong enough to hold against any destructive intrusion?
Or was such a small world an impossible dream, bred from desires that craved satisfaction?
Skye didn’t know.
Didn’t want to think.
The need…simply to feel…made everything else fade away.
CHAPTER TWELVE
LUC found himself in two minds as he drove up to the Bellevue Hill mansion. It had been nine months since he had last set foot in it and he wasn’t sure he wanted to make any rapprochement with his parents on a personal level. He might have a happier future with Skye if he kept them shut out of his private life.
Yet family was family.
Business forced him to deal with his father in boardroom meetings where all current property developments were reported on and future projects discussed. The subject of Skye was never mentioned between them. No doubt his father thought if he ignored the bone of contention long enough, it might go away, especially if the woman he regarded as unsuitable did not agree to marry his son. Or given enough time, Luc might have second thoughts about going through with his declared intention.
His mother had not made the effort to contact him—probably still wallowing in grief over Roberto. He had not been inclined to make the effort to visit her, either, remembering all too well her rigid disapproval of Skye—setting a foundation of rejection which Roberto had played on, creating a lethal structure of lies with supposedly just cause.
Luc could not bring himself to sympathise with his mother’s grief when he was constantly conscious of the damage his brother had wrought, not to mention the years he’d missed of his own son’s life. Besides which, her approval meant nothing to him any more.
He wondered if his mother knew about Matt or had his father protected her from any unsettling knowledge of an unwanted grandchild. If he had kept Matt’s existence from her, the cat would certainly be out of the bag tonight!
He left his car parked near the front door which was promptly opened by the butler who informed him his parents were in the formal drawing room. Interesting, Luc thought grimly. Having called ahead, he was expected. No doubt his courtesy call had alerted his father to the possibility of serious news behind it so he was getting the grand treatment, designed to impress on him what he might be giving up in going against his parents’ wishes.
Futile game-playing. He’d moved beyond any influence his father could bring to bear on him. Even professionally. He could walk away from the Peretti Corporation and start his own business, if necessary.
He didn’t wait for the butler to usher him into the drawing room, moving ahead with quick purposeful strides, opening the door himself. His father was standing in front of the marble fireplace, the dominant figure amongst all his prized material possessions. His mother was sitting very upright in a nearby armchair. Still wearing black, he noted, but her regal demeanour telegraphed that her attention could be courted again.
She wore a full complement of jewellery and she’d obviously been to a beauty salon today, her thick wavy grey hair groomed to perfection, not a strand out of place, her fingernails buffed and polished. Her face was skilfully made up to presentation standard and Luc reflected on how imposing she could be when it suited her—totally intimidating to Skye.
‘Mamma…more yourself again, I see,’ he said dryly, walking forward to confront them more closely.
‘No thanks to you, Luciano, since you haven’t seen fit to come home for nine months,’ his father remonstrated.
He shrugged. ‘This isn’t my home. You both know where I live…if I was needed,’ he added in a pointed drawl.
‘It’s not a case of need,’ came the brusque retort. ‘Out of respect for your mother, you should have—’
‘He is here now, Maurizio,’ his mother broke in, giving Luc a gracious nod. ‘Please sit down. It has been a long time.’
He propped himself on the well-cushioned armrest of a sofa, not about to let his father stand over him. ‘I assume Dad told you what I’ve been doing. If you were interested in re-acquainting yourself with Skye Sumner and meeting our son, you could have called me, Mamma.’
Her lips compressed, whether in disapproval or frustration Luc wasn’t sure, but clearly his words came as no shock to her. She knew all right. Her gaze turned straight to her husband in a sharp demand for him to deal with it.
Luc waited for his reply, wanting to be clued in on how they viewed the situation. His father wore his poker-face, not giving anything away. His reply was laced with careful diplomacy.
‘We felt any re-acquainting was best left to you…to make a time…if it was what you wanted.’
So the policy had been to wait. No red carpet welcome was about to be rolled out. Not while ever there was an outside chance that Luc might come to his senses when there was no family support forthcoming, no turnaround to oblige his feelings. A complete stand-off.
Luc eyed his father with open scepticism. ‘I did ask at Easter, Dad. You made it clear a meeting was not to your liking.’
‘In front of all our friends?’ he scoffed as though the idea was absurd.
