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CHAPTER FIVE
BY THREE-FIFTEEN P.M. on Saturday, Luca’s jet was cruising above the clouds over continental Europe, one hour and fifteen minutes into its three-hour flight from Exeter to Palermo.
He looked up from his laptop, his focus shifting from the report on his screen to Annah as she emerged from the bedroom at the rear of the aircraft and returned to the lounge area in sock-clad feet.
She wore a pale grey soft jersey top and stretchy black leggings that moulded to her long legs like a second skin. She’d probably chosen the outfit for comfort over style or sex appeal, but Luca’s body hummed with appreciation nevertheless, ratcheting up the desire that had burned like a low-grade fever in his blood ever since his self-control had slipped and he’d kissed her on the terrace at Fendalton Hall.
‘Is he asleep?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’ She dropped into the leather recliner opposite him where she’d spent the first hour of the flight either reading a magazine or entertaining Ethan in the seat next to hers. She produced a tired-looking smile. ‘He doesn’t usually need an afternoon nap, but last night he was so excited about the trip I couldn’t get him to sleep.’
He scrutinised her face. Judging from the blue shadows underscoring her eyes, she hadn’t got much sleep, either.
Guilt flickered for a moment before he ruthlessly shut it down. He knew he was pushing hard, urging things forward at a pace she was struggling to accept. He wasn’t unsympathetic to her position, but she needed to appreciate his position. He had missed the first four years of his son’s life. He wasn’t prepared to sit back and wait weeks or months for her to get comfortable with the idea of his claiming his parental rights.
Luca knew the brutal cost of not being there for the people he had a responsibility to protect.
Never again.
He closed his laptop and set it aside. Suggesting she bring Ethan to Sicily was, he’d thought, a fair and generous solution. It gave them additional face-time to discuss and agree on a shared custody arrangement, while she essentially got an all-expenses-paid, week-long vacation and he got to see more of Ethan.
Win-win.
Except they weren’t going to get anywhere fast if Annah kept her barriers up and didn’t start to trust him.
‘And you?’ he enquired. ‘How did you sleep?’
She lifted a slim shoulder. ‘I’ve never been a good sleeper.’
‘Even as a child?’ he said, realising he knew nothing at all about her childhood or family background.
She tucked her feet under her. Long suede boots had accompanied her outfit, but she’d removed them shortly after take-off. ‘Yes. But Ethan’s a good sleeper ordinarily. Once he’s out, nothing wakes him.’ A hint of curiosity entered her blue eyes. ‘I sometimes wondered if he might have inherited that from you.’
Luca cast his mind back to his early childhood. At thirty he was hardly an old-timer, but those days of boyhood innocence felt like several lifetimes ago.
‘I was an extremely sound sleeper,’ he said, the recollection surprising him. He found his lips curving into a smile. ‘My mother used to say she could put me on Mount Etna during an eruption and I still wouldn’t wake.’ As quickly as it emerged, his smile faded. That had been a different time for him and his mother. A happier time. Now they were the only ones left, and some days they barely exchanged a word. ‘It’s different now,’ he said. ‘I only ever sleep for a few hours at a time. When I lived in New York, I rarely got more than four to five hours a night.’
Her head tilted to the side. ‘What did you do there?’
‘Dabbled in stocks, backed a couple of technology start-ups that went big, then started my own private equity firm.’
Her eyebrows lifted. ‘So you’re running two companies now?’
‘No.’ Although he had tried and then realised within weeks it wasn’t feasible. Legitimising the family business, weeding out the corruption, was a gruelling full-time endeavour. ‘I’ve recently appointed a CEO to replace me in New York.’
‘Did you ever visit Sicily?’ she asked. ‘In those five years you lived in America?’
He hesitated. ‘Once.’
‘And you didn’t speak to your father then?’
‘No.’
‘Why did you go back?’
Discomfort pressed on his chest. He’d wanted to get Annah talking about herself. Instead, she’d turned the tables somehow and they were talking about him. ‘For my brother’s funeral,’ he told her.
Shock spread over her features, followed swiftly by sympathy. ‘I’m so sorry, Luca.’
