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“I don’t like it, Grace,” he said softly, a certain menace marking his voice. “Don’t lie to me again.”
She didn’t dare respond, didn’t dare dwell on what would happen should he discover the deception she and Dom had instigated, especially considering it was aimed directly at Luc. She could only pray he didn’t find out. Because if he ever did... She shuddered.
So, what had tipped him off about her latest fibs? And why weren’t they working today? She thought she’d gotten rather good at evading the truth, but perhaps months and months of practicing such a bad habit had caused a short circuit and she was all lied out. Or perhaps Luc’s dislike of them had finally rubbed off on her.
Her father would be delighted, were he to know. Grace was horrified.
Luc didn’t wait for a reply, a huge relief since she had none to offer. Instead, he returned to his office and closed the door with gentle emphasis. She stared blindly at her calendar. Four more weeks. That’s all she had to get through. Just four more weeks.
In just under three of those weeks Dom Salvatore would return from his twelve-month sojourn to Italy and appoint a relative to take over her job. One quick week of training and Grace could open Baby Dream Toys. Her dearest wish—her mother’s dearest wish—would finally be realized.
She focused on the calendar. She could do it. Just four more weeks of lies and half-truths, disguises and evasions. Easy, right? Maybe so, if not for one small problem. Once she left Luc’s employ, would she still consider the shop worth the cost she’d paid?
The question nagged at her, had been nagging for months now. When she’d first agreed to Dom’s plan, she’d wanted her own business so badly she hadn’t paused to weigh the consequences. She’d had plenty of time since to reconsider her hasty and ill-planned decision. And now she wasn’t so sure she’d made the right choice. Using deceit to attain her goal, even a lifelong dream, went against the grain.
She was living a lie, and she’d never been more uncomfortable in her life. Worse, she liked working for Luc. He was a fantastic employer. Generous. Intelligent. Creative. She’d even found their frequent battle of wills challenging. If not for the lies, it would be the perfect job.
A small sound caught her attention and, looking up, Grace noticed a beautiful young woman standing in the doorway of the reception area. She carried a huge diaper bag over one arm. In the other she clutched a baby.
“May I help you?” Grace asked, shoving her glasses higher on her nose.
The young woman shot Grace a suspicious glance, then shook her head. She peered around rather frantically. Her gaze landed on Luc’s door and the plaque that read Luciano Salvatore, and she released an exclamation of relief. Eyeing Grace with a measure of defiance, she sidled toward Luc’s door.
Grace stood. Uh-oh. Something about this didn’t look right. A young woman, infant in arms, acting as though Luc’s door held the answer to all her prayers?
“Excuse me, but do you have an appointment?” she asked, though she could guess the answer to that one. This little entrance had “surprise visit” written all over it. She released a silent sigh. How would Luc take to his newly discovered papahood? Despair, sharp and intense, swept through her. She already knew how she felt about it, the sick, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach all too clear an indication.
More to the point, when had her feelings for Luc changed? When had she begun to care?
There was no mistaking the young woman’s resolve. Her gaze shifted from Grace to the door as though judging her chances of winning a footrace. The instant Grace came around her desk, determination glittered in the woman’s dark eyes, and she literally threw herself at Luc’s door. Yanking it open, she launched into a spate of very loud Italian and slammed the door behind her.
Grace’s mouth fell open.
“Ms. Barnes!” Luc’s roar rattled the rafters an instant later. “Get in here.”
It took her a split second to gather her wits sufficiently to obey. Then she, too, charged the door and threw it open. Mother and infant had found sanctuary in Luc’s arms. Between sobs the woman poured out what appeared to be a most heartrending story. Luc fired off a quick question and the woman stepped back, her Italian loud and furious. Startled from a sound sleep, the baby burst into tears, his wails competing with his mother’s shouting.
“You bellowed?” Grace asked, relieved when both mother and infant fell silent.
He stabbed a finger at her. “Don’t start. Go down the hall and drag my brother, Brando, out of his office. I want him in here. Now.”
She turned to leave, only to discover Brand standing behind her. “What’s all the shouting?” He took one look at the woman at Luc’s side and stiffened. “Carina?”
The sudden realization that the child was, in all probability, Brand’s and not Luc’s, grabbed Grace’s full attention. Fighting to ignore an overwhelming sense of relief, she slipped farther into the room, watching this latest development with intense interest.
Brand crossed to Carina’s side and started to take her into his arms. Grace could tell the instant he noticed the baby. It took precisely two seconds for the significance to sink in. “What the hell is this?” he shouted.
“What does it look like?” Carina shouted back. “It is a baby.”
The infant in question started crying again. Grace, realizing the door to Luc’s office stood open, turned to close it. A gaggle of secretaries had gathered in a loose semicircle, listening with open mouths. “I’ll get security,” one of them offered, and darted down the hallway before Grace could stop her. With a sigh, she shut the door. One problem at a time.
“Enough!” Luc thundered. “I want quiet, and I want it now.” To Grace’s astonishment, all obeyed, even the baby. “Excellent. Now. Do you think we could get to the bottom of this mess?”
“Fine. Your brother, he is a pig.” Carina announced, breaking into a long litany of passionate Italian.
“English, please,” Luc requested.
“My English, it is not so good.”
