Moretti's Marriage Command

‘It’s fine,’ she told the assistant, and then took it off as fast as she could. Maybe if she worked quickly enough Luca wouldn’t bother striding into her dressing room, acting as if he owned the world, acting as if he owned her.

Forty-two minutes later all the clothes Hannah had tried on, including the most modest bikini she’d been able to find and two sets of lingerie in beige silk and cream lace, were wrapped in tissue paper and put in expensive-looking bags with satin ribbons for handles. She hadn’t even seen Luca hand over a credit card, and she dreaded to think what the bill was. Why on earth was he spending a fortune on her clothes, and for such a negligible business deal? She didn’t like feeling beholden to him in such a way. She worked hard and earned everything she got, and she preferred it like that.

‘I think you’ve spent more on me tonight than you’ll make taking over these resorts,’ she remarked as they stepped out into the street. The rain had cleared and a pale sickle moon rose above the elegant town houses of Mayfair. ‘Andrew Tyson only owns about half a dozen resorts, doesn’t he?’

‘The land alone makes it worth it,’ Luca replied, buttoning his jacket. Seconds later the limo appeared at the kerb, and the sales assistant loaded the bags into the boot.

‘I should get home,’ Hannah said. She felt relieved at the thought of being away from Luca’s unsettling presence, and yet reluctant to end the bizarre magic of the evening. But it was a forty-five-minute Tube ride to her small terraced house on the end of the Northern Line, and she’d be late enough as it was.

‘I’ll drive you,’ Luca answered. ‘Get in.’

‘I live rather far away...’

‘I know where you live.’

His calm assertion discomfited her. Of course her boss knew where she lived; it was on her employment record. And yet the thought of Luca invading her home, seeing even just a glimpse her private life, made her resist.

‘I don’t...’

‘Hannah, get in. It’s nearly eight and we’re leaving at nine tomorrow morning. Why spend nearly an hour on the Tube when you don’t have to?’

He had a point. As it was she’d be getting back later than she liked. ‘All right, thank you.’ She climbed into the limo, sitting well away from Luca. She could still remember the feel of his fingers on her back. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He’d probably been amused at how embarrassed she’d been. He probably undressed women in his sleep. The only reason she’d responded to him like that was because he was attractive and she hadn’t been touched by a man in over five years. Her mother had told her it was more than time to jump back in the dating pool, but Hannah hadn’t had time even to think about dipping a toe in.

The limo pulled into the street and Hannah sat back, suddenly overwhelmed with fatigue. The last few hours had taken an emotional toll.

‘Here.’ Luca pressed a glass into her hands, and her fingers closed around the fragile stem automatically. She looked in surprise at the flute of champagne. The driver must have had it ready. ‘You didn’t have any in the boutique,’ Luca explained, ‘and you said you had never tasted it before.’

‘Oh.’ She was touched by his thoughtfulness, and yet she felt weirdly exposed too. When had her boss ever considered what she wanted in such a way? ‘Thank you.’

‘Drink,’ Luca said, and Hannah took a cautious sip, wrinkling her nose as the bubbles fizzed their way upward. Luca smiled at her faintly, no doubt amused by her inexperience.

‘It’s a bit more tickly than I thought,’ she said. She felt incredibly gauche. Luca had most likely first imbibed Dom Perignon from a baby’s bottle. He kept a bottle in his limo, after all. And here she was, saying how the bubbles tickled her nose.

She handed back the champagne with an awkward smile, and Luca took it, one dark eyebrow arched. ‘Is it not to your liking?’

‘It’s just... I haven’t eaten anything. And you know, alcohol on an empty stomach, never a good idea...’ She was babbling, out of her element in so many ways. She, the calm, capable, unflappable PA, had been reduced to stammering and blushing by her boss, who was acting more like a man than an employer. She couldn’t understand him or herself, and it was incredibly annoying.

‘I’m sorry,’ Luca murmured. ‘I should have thought.’ He pressed the intercom button and issued some directions in Italian. Hannah eyed him askance.

‘What are you doing...?’

‘I asked him to stop so we can eat. You don’t have plans?’

Surprised alarm had her lurching upright. ‘No, but really, it’s not necessary—’

‘Hannah, you’re hungry. When you work late at the office, I provide dinner. Consider this the same thing.’

Except this didn’t feel like the same thing. And when the limo stopped in front of an elegant bistro with red velvet curtains in the windows and curling gold script on the door, Hannah knew their meal would be a far cry from the sandwiches and coffee Luca usually had her order in when they were both working late.

She swallowed audibly, and then forced back the feelings of uncertainty and inadequacy. She’d been working as PA to one of the most powerful men in real estate for three years. She could handle dinner at a restaurant.

Straightening her spine, she got out of the car. Luca opened the door to the restaurant for her and then followed her in. The muted, understated elegance of the place fell over her like a soothing blanket.

‘A table for two, Monsieur Moretti?’ The French waiter asked, menus already in hand. Was her boss known everywhere?

Luca nodded and within seconds they were escorted to a private table in the corner, tucked away from the few other diners in the restaurant.

Hannah scanned the menu; it provided a temporary escape from Luca’s penetrating gaze. Foie gras. Roasted quail. Braised fillet of brill. Okay, she could do this.

‘Do you see something you like?’ Luca asked.

‘Yes.’ She closed the menu and gave him a perfunctory smile. ‘Thank you.’

The waiter came with the wine list, and Luca barely glanced at it before ordering a bottle. He turned to Hannah the moment the man had gone, his gaze resting on her. Again she had the sense of coming up short, of not being quite what he wanted, and she didn’t understand it.

‘It occurs to me that I know very little about you.’

‘I didn’t realise you wanted to,’ Hannah answered. Luca had never asked her a single personal question in her three years of employment.

‘Information is always valuable,’ he answered with a negligent shrug. ‘Where did you grow up?’

‘A village outside Birmingham.’ She eyed him warily. Where was this coming from? And why?

‘Brothers? Sisters?’

‘No.’ Deciding this could go both ways, Hannah raised her eyebrows. ‘What about you?’

Luca looked slightly taken aback, his eyes flaring, mouth compressing. In the dim lighting of the restaurant he looked darker and more alluring than usual, the candlelight from the table throwing his face into stark contrast from the snowy whiteness of his shirt, his whole being exuding restless power, barely leashed energy. ‘What about me?’

‘Do you have brothers or sisters?’

His mouth flattened into a hard line and he looked away briefly. ‘No.’

So apparently he didn’t like answering personal questions, just asking them. Hannah couldn’t say she was surprised. The waiter came to take their order, and she chose a simple salad and the roasted quail, which she hoped would taste like chicken. Luca ordered steak and then the sommelier was proffering an expensive-looking bottle. Hannah watched as Luca expertly swilled a mouthful and then nodded in acceptance. The sommelier poured them both full glasses.

‘I really shouldn’t...’ Hannah began. She didn’t drink alcohol very often and she wanted to be fresh for tomorrow. And she didn’t relish getting a bit of a buzz in Luca’s presence. The last thing she needed was to feel even sillier in front of her boss.

‘It won’t be on an empty stomach,’ Luca replied. ‘And I think you need to relax.’

‘Do you?’ Hannah returned tartly. ‘I must confess, this is all a bit out of the ordinary, Mr—’

‘Luca.’

‘Why?’ she burst out. ‘Why now?’

His dark gaze rested on her for a moment, and she had the sense he was weighing his words, choosing them with care. ‘Why not?’ he finally replied, and reached for his wine glass. Hannah deflated, frustrated but also a tiny bit relieved by his non-answer. She didn’t know if she could handle some sort of weird revelation.

Fortunately Luca stopped with the personal questions after that, and they ate their meal mainly in silence, which was far more comfortable than being the subject of her boss’s scrutiny, but even so she felt on edge, brittle and restless.