he said.
‘How long will we be away?’
He shrugged. ‘A day or two—just long enough to tie things up.’
The flight took two and a half hours. They booked into a hotel in Palermo, and over dinner Luciano surprised her by talking about his childhood.
‘Families here are very close knit, as you probably know. My mother died when I was four and I was brought up by my maternal grandparents—with a great deal of well-intentioned interference from my great-grandmother. Although neither my father nor my grandparents are alive now, Bisnonna still is, bless her heart. She will be ninety-three this year.’
He sounded very fond of her and Celena felt envious for a moment as she had no grandparents of her own, both sets having died when she was very young, before Davina had even been born.
‘I went to England to finish my education at Oxford,’ he went on, ‘and liked your country so much that I made it my home. Naturally I still come back here several times a year; my family would never forgive me if I didn’t.’
‘You have brothers and sisters?’ she asked.
He inclined his head. ‘Two brothers and a sister: Gabriella—she is the youngest; Paolo is next, then Filippo. You will meet them tomorrow.’
Celena frowned sharply. ‘We are visiting your family?’
‘Naturally. I couldn’t possibly come to Sicily and not see them.’
‘You told me it was purely a business trip,’ she said accusingly.
His lips curved. ‘And what is wrong with combining business with pleasure? Treat the break as an added bonus, Celena.’
Some bonus, she thought. ‘Are they married, your brothers and sister?’
‘All of them.’
‘So why aren’t you?’ It was a question she ought not to have asked; it was too intrusive, considering they were employer and employee, and the sudden harshness of his face confirmed it. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quickly. ‘Forget I said that. This is a very good bolognese.’
‘And so it should be.’ His face relaxed. ‘But wait until you taste our bolognese. It is a very special family recipe. It is meraviglioso.’
There was obviously some reason why he hadn’t married and she wondered what it was. She guessed him to be somewhere in his mid-thirties and found it strange that he was still a bachelor. He was most eligible so why had no one snapped him up? The fault had to lie with him. Maybe his work took up too much of his time. Maybe he’d had a bad experience. Maybe, maybe—there could be a thousand and one explanations.
In bed that night, in her hotel room next to Luciano’s, Celena could not rid her mind of him. He had to be the most intriguing man she had ever met—visually exciting, physically stimulating, disgustingly rich—everything a girl could wish for.
It disturbed her that Luciano had made such a strong impact, that he was infiltrating her defences so easily. After the numbing discovery that Andrew was seeing another woman behind her back she had thought herself immune to this sort of thing. This coupled with the fact that the girl had been her best friend had made her vow never to trust anyone again. She had thrown herself wholeheartedly into her career and no one since had managed to arouse any sort of feeling within her. She was even nicknamed ‘the ice-woman’ among her contemporaries.
The short flight from England in Luciano’s private jet had been an experience in itself. Not only had she been impressed that he had his own plane, and that it was fitted out to very high standards with a comfortable lounge and a fully equipped office, she had also been overwhelmed by the strength of his personality.
Each time they met the air tingled, but in the close confines of his Lear jet Celena had felt it even more strongly. She had experienced great difficulty in breathing, as though there had been no air in the cabin. He’d filled the whole space with his presence, and although he had busied himself at his computer, keeping in touch with everything that was going on in his business world, she had been unable to ignore him.
And now, even though a brick wall divided them, she could still feel him, still sense the hidden power he wielded over her. It troubled her deeply; he was most definitely a force to be reckoned with.
Very little sleep and an early morning call, as well as her uneasiness where Luciano was concerned, made Celena irritable, and when she met him at the breakfast table she barely smiled.
‘Are you not feeling well?’ he asked, looking fresh and vital in a white shirt and dark linen trousers, the inevitable aftershave faintly tormenting her, black hair still damp from his shower.
‘I have a headache.’ It was a lie but the best excuse she could come up with. She couldn’t very well say, I lay awake all night thinking about you. It confused even her.
He had been in her life for six weeks, they had made contact on only three occasions before coming out here, and yet he had completely taken over her mind. It was crazy. At least he had kept his word and made no advances—yet! She had been sure to lock her door last night
‘Are you prone to headaches?’ he asked sharply. ‘Do you suffer from migraine?’
Celena shook her head.
‘Then I guess it’s just the travelling and the change. Take a couple of aspirin; you’ll soon feel better.’
‘What are our plans for today?’ she asked. She felt uncomfortable about being introduced to his relatives. Would they believe the strictly business scenario? Or would they think she was his current girlfriend? Did he frequently take girls home?
She dismissed the thought immediately. He had told her that he had come from a very old Sicilian family, an aristocratic family no less, with old-fashioned views on girlfriends and marriage. He would hardly give the impression of being a philanderer.
‘This morning, business,’ he answered, his chin lifted in one of his unconscious arrogant gestures. ‘This afternoon we will visit my family.’ He watched her closely as he spoke, saw her sudden tension. ‘Do not worry, Celena; they will love you.’
She frowned. Love her! It was an odd expression. Why would they love a business associate? All along she had felt nervous about the whole thing—about the unexpected job offer, the unreal salary, and finally this trip to Sicily. Had she been right to worry? ‘Is there something you haven’t told me, Mr Segurini?’
‘Luciano, please,’ he said.
‘Why?’ Her grey eyes were as troubled as a stormtossed sea.
‘Why what?’ he asked with a sudden frown.
‘Why should I call you Luciano when you are the owner of the company that employs me? I think it would be wrong to be on first-name terms when I am the very newest member of your team, especially as this is a business trip.’
‘Both business and pleasure,’ he told her. ‘It is always a pleasure to be with my family.’
‘And
