Moretti's Marriage Command

‘I was just thinking about flying first class,’ she said.

‘Ah yes. Something else you haven’t done before.’

‘No, and I’m looking forward to it.’ She smiled wryly. ‘I’m sure it’s same old, same old for you.’

‘It’s refreshing to see someone experience something for the first time.’ His mouth curved in a deeper smile, the look in his eyes disconcertingly warm. ‘Tickly or not.’

She lifted her chin, fighting a flush. ‘I admit, I’m not very experienced in the ways of the world.’

‘Why aren’t you?’

‘Maybe because I’m not a millionaire?’ Hannah returned dryly. ‘Most people don’t travel first class, you know.’

‘I’m well aware. But plenty of people have tasted champagne.’ He cocked his head, his warm gaze turning thoughtful. ‘You seem to have missed out a bit on life, Hannah.’

Which was all too perceptive of him. And even though she knew it was true, it still stung. ‘I’ve been working,’ she replied with a shrug. ‘And I have responsibilities...’ She left it at that but Luca’s eyes had narrowed.

‘What kind of responsibilities?’

‘Family,’ she hedged. ‘Nothing that interferes with my work,’ she defended and he nodded, hands spread palm upward.

‘As well I know. I do appreciate you coming for the weekend.’

‘I didn’t think I really had much choice,’ Hannah returned, then drew an even breath. ‘Why don’t you tell me more about this weekend? You said it was a social occasion? How so?’

The warmth left Luca’s eyes and Hannah felt tension steal into his body even though he’d barely moved. ‘Andrew Tyson is a family man,’ he stated. ‘Wife, two children, resorts dedicated to providing people with the ultimate family experience.’

‘Yes, I did some research on them when I was booking your travel,’ Hannah recalled. ‘“A Tyson Holiday is a memory for ever,”’ she quoted and Luca grimaced.

‘Right.’

‘You don’t like the idea?’

‘Not particularly.’

She shouldn’t have been surprised. Luca Moretti had never struck her as the wife-and-kids type, which was why she’d kept her own son secret from him. He was never short of female company, though, and none of them lasted very long. A week at the most. ‘Why are you going after these resorts if you don’t really like the idea behind them?’

‘I don’t make business decisions based on personal preferences,’ Luca answered shortly. One hand closed in a fist on his powerful thigh and he straightened it out slowly, deliberately, his palm flat on his leg, his fingers, long and tapered, stretching towards his knee. ‘I make business decisions based on what is financially sound and potentially profitable.’

‘But Andrew Tyson only has a handful of resorts, doesn’t he? The Santa Nicola resort, one on Tenerife, one on Kos, one on—’

‘Sicily, and then a couple in the Caribbean. Yes.’

‘It’s small potatoes to a man like you,’ Hannah pointed out. Luca had orchestrated multibillion-dollar deals all around the world. A couple of family resorts, especially ones that looked as if they needed a bit of updating, hardly seemed his sort of thing.

Luca shifted in his seat. ‘As I told you before, the land alone makes this a lucrative deal.’

‘Okay, but you still haven’t told me why this is a social occasion.’

‘Because Tyson wants it to be one. He’s always espoused family values, and so he wants each potential owner to socialise with him and his family.’

‘So chatting up little kids?’ Hannah couldn’t quite keep the note of amusement from her voice. ‘It sounds like your worst nightmare.’

‘His children are grown up,’ Luca answered. ‘The son is only a year younger than I am.’

‘Do his children have children?’

‘I have no idea.’ Luca sounded eminently bored. ‘Probably. The son is married.’

Hannah considered the implications of everything he’d just said. So she’d be socialising with Andrew Tyson and his family, chatting up his children and generally being friendly? She was starting to realise why Luca had wanted her to come along.

‘So you want me to be your front man,’ she said slowly.

Luca swivelled to face her. ‘Excuse me?’

‘To do the talking,’ Hannah explained. ‘Chatting to his wife and children while you get on with the business side of things. Right?’

He gave one terse nod. ‘Right.’

She settled back in her seat. ‘All right. I can do that.’

‘Good,’ Luca answered, and he turned back to his phone.

The VIP lounge at the airport fully lived up to Hannah’s expectations. She enjoyed the plush seats, the complimentary mimosas and breakfast buffet, and when Luca suggested she take advantage of the adjoining spa and get a manicure and pedicure, she decided to go for it. Why not enjoy all the opportunities that were on offer? It wasn’t as if she had many chances to relax in a spa.

By the time they boarded the plane she was feeling pleasantly relaxed; one of the spa attendants had given her a head and neck massage while her feet had been soaking. It had felt lovely, as had Luca’s look of blatant male appreciation when she’d emerged from the spa—the attendant had insisted on doing her hair and make-up as well.

‘You look good,’ he said in approval, and, while Hannah knew she shouldn’t care what Luca thought of her looks, his masculine admiration spoke to the feminine heart of her.

‘I think,’ she told him as they took their seats in the plane’s first-class section, ‘I could get used to this.’

Luca’s mouth quirked up at one corner. ‘I’m sure you could.’ He accepted two flutes of champagne from the airline steward and handed one to Hannah. ‘And now you should get used to this.’

‘Why are you so determined to have me become used to champagne?’ Hannah asked as she took a sip. Second time round the bubbles didn’t tickle her nose quite so much.

‘Why not? You should enjoy all of these new experiences.’

‘True,’ Hannah answered. ‘And since you said this was a social occasion, I might as well.’ She took another sip of champagne. ‘Are we meant to be working during the flight?’

‘No.’

‘So why did you put me up in first class?’

‘I wanted to watch you enjoy the experience.’

Hannah felt her stomach dip at this implication of his words, the intimacy of them. She was suddenly conscious of how this all seemed: the champagne flute dangling from her fingers, the cosy enclave of their first-class seats, and Luca Moretti lounging next to her, not taking his warm gaze from hers. She swallowed hard.

‘Well, I am enjoying it,’ she said, striving for normality. ‘Thank you.’ The last thing she needed was to start crushing on her boss. He’d probably find that amusing—or maybe offensive, and fire her. She handed her half-drunk champagne to the steward and buckled her seat belt. Time to get things back to the way they’d always been.