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‘I wasn’t talking about the HR meeting.’ Luca frowned. ‘Is anything wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ Emma said, then realising what he’d seen she relented. ‘I’ve got a bit of headache, that’s all.’
‘My housekeeper’s not well.’
‘Oh!’ Emma blinked, reaching for the phone. ‘Did you want me to ring the agency and arrange a replacement?’
‘I’ll survive for a day,’ Luca said magnanimously, ‘but I am going to be flying to Japan this afternoon. Evelyn’s coming with me, she’s gone home to get ready, so can you go over to my apartment and pack for me?’
It was a strange byproduct, Emma had realised, of being rich and in demand—there was very little personal in his personal life. There was a whole army of people ensuring that every minute of his valuable time was put to best use. Letting herself into his vast, luxurious apartment a little later, Emma bent down and went to stroke Pepper, who duly growled a warning, then waddled to the huge glass sliding door to be let out. Emma wandered out onto the balcony and stared at the spectacular view of the Thames, before setting to work. She headed into the bedroom, opening her organiser and locating the list that would tell her what was required for a two-night international business trip.
All the information was there in her folder.
His immaculate suits and shoes were packed, as was his equally immaculate casual wear, and then she opened his underwear drawer to see neat rows of folded hipsters and socks as if they were on display in an exclusive store. There was nothing personal about the choices she made—the list saw to that. These cufflinks were preferred with this tie and shirt, these shoes with that suit… It just felt personal, that was all.
‘Hey!’ Emma jumped as Luca walked into the bedroom unannounced, blushing as she held a handful of his hipsters. It just seemed wrong somehow to be going through his underwear drawer, even though it was her job to be in there.
He was completely at ease with it, of course.
Just kicked off his shoes and lay on the bed, chatting on his phone as Emma walked through to the sumptuous bathroom to pack his toiletries and to try and not listen as he made a couple of personal calls—cancelling his plans for the next couple of nights and, by the sound of it, breaking a couple of hearts in the process.
‘Why?’ Luca asked as she came back into the bedroom with his toiletry bag and was finishing off his packing, ‘when I say I’m going to Japan, do they think it has something to do with them—why would they think that I’m lying?’
‘Because you usually are,’ Emma pointed out.
‘Well, I’m not this time.’ He ran lazy eyes over her, taking in the smudges under her eyes, the vague distraction that slightly displaced her more usual sunny nature. ‘What’s wrong, Em?’
‘Ms Stephenson to you!’ Emma instantly pulled him up, refusing, just refusing as she always did with him, to cross the line. ‘But you can call me Emma.’
‘What’s wrong, Emma? And don’t give me that rubbish about a headache.’
‘Nothing’s wrong,’ Emma insisted.
He lay back on the bed, closed his eyes and gave a low laugh.
‘Now that I’ve stopped, I realise I have a headache too!”
He did—right there at the front of his head. He could hear the sounds of her packing, and it would be so incredibly easy to just close his eyes and sleep. He didn’t want to go to Tokyo. Incredibly, and not for the first time lately, he could hardly stomach the thought of the flight.
‘We should fare force…’ Luca smiled with his eyes still closed.
‘Sorry?’
‘You know…’ he waved his hand, tried to come up with the English word for it, but it eluded him, and those gorgeous navy eyes finally opened to hers. ‘Leave school…’ He snapped his fingers, impatient with himself now. ‘Not go back.’
‘Play hooky!’ Emma grinned.
‘Play hooky!’ Luca smiled at the term and closed his eyes. ‘That would be good—we could get ice-packs from the fridge for our foreheads and lie in the dark and ignore the phone.’
‘Sounds good.’
‘And I wasn’t being inappropriate.’
‘I know.’ Emma smiled, because she knew exactly what he meant, exactly how he felt, because she felt it too. ‘But we can’t.’
He looked as if he was dozing, except his mind was actually whirring.
He was sick of keeping things businesslike between them.
He was cross with himself too for his handling of things.
He wanted her.
And yet he didn’t—because he actually liked working with her. Liked having her around, and once things moved, as they surely would, well…
