Table of Contents

Cover Page

Dear Reader

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

Copyright

Dear Reader,

I always find it difficult to choose a title for a book, but I think Powerful Persuasion sums up this story very nicely. Luciano is without doubt a persuasive man, and he is certainly one of my favorite heroes.

This is my fifty-seventh romance over a period of twenty-two years, and I really do enjoy the challenge of writing for the Presents series. Romance was always my favorite genre—long before I began to write it.

I hope it is yours, too.

Best wishes,

Margaret Mayo

Powerful Persuasion
Margaret Mayo

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

CELENA’S heart missed a beat as she walked into the room. Quite what she had expected Luciano Segurini to look like she was not sure: certainly not quite so tall, or so imposing, or so magnificently male!

She had anticipated a powerful figure of a man, authority sitting easily on his shoulders, a man with massive self-confidence—he wouldn’t have got where he was today without it—but she had not envisaged someone whose very presence filled the room with raw sexuality; it was almost tangible.

He had shiny, jet-black hair, side-parted and swept back, a square chin and hollow cheeks which made him look somewhat gaunt, a long, straight nose, slightly flared at the nostrils, and a full lower lip. He was not conventionally handsome and yet the combination of all these features made him lethally attractive.

‘Miss Coulsden.’ His dark, velvet-brown eyes looked unnervingly into hers and he took her hand in a grip that threatened to crush every bone. It lasted, Celena felt, for much longer than was necessary, and afterwards it was difficult to restrain herself from rubbing life back into her tingling fingers.

‘Please, sit down.’

With a name like Segurini she had expected a foreign accent; instead he spoke perfect English, in a deep, gravelly voice that seduced her nerve-endings and sent dangerous waves of awareness through her body. She could not understand what was happening. She had come here for a job interview and instead was feeling disturbingly erotic sensations.

After her engagement to Andrew Holmes had ended so disastrously she had been careful never to let any man close again. She instinctively distrusted the whole male sex and had built a defensive wall around herself, cutting out of her life anyone who came close to dislodging even one brick. People said she had changed after Andrew and maybe she had, but it was her way of dealing with it

And when her parents had died in a skiing accident a couple of years later Celena had been glad she had not married him. Her younger sister, Davina, was at boarding-school and Celena determined to keep her there. Andrew would most definitely not have approved; he had had very firm views about paying for an education. He’d considered it a complete waste of money when there were perfectly adequate state schools. The fact that Celena herself had been to boarding-school had always been a bone of contention between them.

It was because of Andrew that she could not understand her chemical reaction to this man now, this stimulus from him to her. It made a mockery of her every effort to school herself against reacting to any man and she felt quite sure that he too would be horrified if he knew what thoughts were surging through her mind.

She sat thankfully. ‘Thank you.’

He waited until she was comfortable before seating himself behind a huge curved desk that was home to a battery of technological equipment. Any lesser man would have been dwarfed by it, but not Luciano Segurini. And when he tapped on a keyboard she noticed that he had very long fingers, square at the ends with well-manicured nails. Strong hands, strong fingers—no wonder they had almost pulverised her!

‘Now, let me see.’ It was almost as though he was talking to himself. ‘Celena Coulsden—single, age twenty-eight, five A levels, a distinction in design and graphics at Brampton College, began work at—’

‘Just a minute.’ Celena stopped him with an agitated movement of her hand and a frown of incredulity. ‘How did you gain all this information?’ It was unbelievable. Why had he considered it necessary to check on her like this? What else did he know? Her dress-size? Her shoe-size? Her favourite perfume? She felt distinctly uneasy. There was definitely something going on here that she did not understand.

First of all she’d been offered a job right out of the blue when she hadn’t even been looking for one, and now this amazing man was disclosing that he already had a very complete and very accurate file on her. Her heart raced again, through for a very different reason this time: she felt a deep sense of foreboding.

He smiled, showing very even, very white, very large teeth. If it was meant to reassure her it didn’t. It was a wolfish smile; he was the predator and she was his prey!

Go careful, Lena, she told herself. This man is highly dangerous.

‘There is nothing I cannot find out, Miss Coulsden—if I want to. There is nothing I cannot do.’

It was his unutterable confidence that astounded her. Had that been a threat? It had sounded ominous. She stood up, tall herself at five’ feet eight, and tossed back her shoulder-length auburn hair, her eyes a dark, stormy grey. ‘I think we’re wasting each other’s time, Mr Segurini. I should not have come. I’m perfectly happy in the job I have, thank you very much.’

She was dressed in startling, vibrant red—a colour which should have clashed outrageously with her hair but which somehow looked exactly right. She slung her black leather shoulder bag into place and headed for the door, but his imperative, ‘Wait!’ made her halt before she was even halfway across the room.

Slowly Celena turned, brown eyes meeting grey, his faintly amused, her own hostile and defensive, her chin high. Her heart began to thud. It had to be the uniqueness of the situation, not the man himself, she decided fiercely.

‘You are offended that I have already checked up on you?’ His clerical grey suit sat easily on wide shoulders, complemented by a white silk shirt and a red and grey Paisley silk tie.

‘As a matter of fact, yes I am,’ she answered, and was appalled to hear how husky her voice sounded. She cleared her throat ‘I’m not even working for you and yet you have a dossier on me. I find that totally unacceptable.’

‘I think you’ll agree that in this day and age most people are on computer lists somewhere. It is surprising how much information is held by all sorts of people—your bank manager, for instance; he probably knows a lot more about you than you think.’

‘Maybe,’ she conceded with a shrug, ‘but why you?’

He smiled—again the wolfish smile that sent shivers down her spine. ‘Think about it, Miss Coulsden; I would hardly offer a job, especially such an important job, to someone I knew nothing about’

‘Agreed,’ she said, wondering briefly what he meant by important ‘But how did you come by all this information? We have never met, have we? How did you know about me? Why do you want me in particular? I am sure there must be plenty of other copywriters who come up to the standard you require.’

He inclined his head thoughtfully to one side and pursed his lips. ‘You have forged an excellent reputation for yourself. The ads you have handled have been some of the most successful run by your company.’

Celena was always modest about her success. She shrugged. ‘I simply write the words.’

‘But what words.’ He looked at her approvingly.

She ignored the triggering of her senses.

‘What I do not understand is why you have concentrated on that side of advertising when you have the talent for design.’

‘I enjoy it more,’ she said simply.

‘And I want you on my team.’ It was a dark declaration. There is nothing I cannot do.’ His earlier words rang in Celena’s ears. He wanted her and meant to have her—whether she wished it or not!

To begin with, when she had received Luciano Segurini’s offer, she had felt flattered and surprised—yes, very surprised, shocked even, but intrigued also, and pleased that he thought her good enough to join Luse, one of England’s top advertising agencies. It would be to her advantage, he’d said, which she’d taken to mean that he would be offering her a higher salary than she was getting now—and how useful that would be.

She had lain awake at night recently, wondering how she could afford Davina’s next term’s boarding-school fees. What money her parents had left had already been eaten up, although Davina did not know that, and Celena would have worked night and day rather than disclose this fact. Her sister was intensely happy at her school—it was the same one Celena herself had attended—and it could affect her whole education if she had to leave now.

Celena had inevitably wondered why Luciano Segurini had chosen her for this job, how he knew about her even, coming up with the deduction that most agencies kept an eye on their competitors. People talked; it was not inconceivable that he had heard about her.

He’d been right when he’d said that she had had a fair amount of success. In fact Hillier and Jones were extremely proud of her and it was doubtful whether they would let her go. She had not even told them that she was coming for this interview. It was curiosity alone that had led her here. And now, because of her astonishing reaction to this man, and because he already knew so much about her, she was beginning to wish that she had not been so tempted. It was an eerie feeling knowing that she had been checked on so thoroughly.

‘I want you to work on the most important undertaking of my life.’

Celena looked at him with a questioning frown.

‘You are the very person I have been looking for. You have exactly the right qualifications.’

‘I would imagine,’ she said tightly, ‘that with the success your company has achieved over the years you already have a highly qualified team.’

‘There is always room for improvement,’ he told her.

‘New blood, you mean. Have you been let down? Are you a man short, is that it?’

He gave a twisted smile that seemed to sit unhappily on his lips. ‘Yes, I’ve been let down—badly, as it happens. Will you take the job, Celena?’

She hardly noticed the fact that he had used her first name. Her eyes were on his mouth, on that full, sensual bottom lip, and she wondered what it would be like to be kissed by this man.

When she realised that he appeared to be waiting for an answer she came to with a guilty start. ‘I’m sorry, what did you say?’

‘I’ll offer you double whatever it is you’re earning now.’

Her finely moulded brows rose. ‘Take a look at your screen, Mr Segurini; I’m sure it will tell you exactly what my present salary is.’

He smiled his appreciation. ‘As a matter of fact, yes, it does. It also tells me that you do not have a current boyfriend. Why is that? You’re a very beautiful lady, Celena; you’re—’

Her eyes flashed. ‘My private life has nothing to do with my business life. You have no right prying.’ She wondered whether he knew about her sister as well, and about the struggle she had to make ends meet—whether he knew that the temptation to accept his offer would be very strong.

He grinned. ‘Actually it was pure and simple conjecture. But—I assume from your outrage that I am right. And that is good, because I shall expect you to work long hours and I do not want an irate boyfriend breathing down my neck.’

‘I’ve not yet said I’ll take the job,’ Celena snapped, annoyed that he had tricked her.

‘You’d be foolish not to,’ he said. ‘You’ll be set up for life.’

‘Life, Mr Segurini?’ she exploded. ‘I’m not giving my life to you.’

‘But you are interested?’ A confident smile played about his lips.

‘I have a contract which—’

‘Which can easily be broken,’ he insisted. ‘In any case, I understand that Hillier and Jones have hit a bad patch; there are redundancies in the offing. You could soon find yourself out of a job altogether.’

Celena looked at him sharply and suspiciously. ‘It’s news to me.’ She half suspected that he was making it up.

‘But it’s true,’ he said, suddenly serious. ‘What is your answer?’

She shook her head. ‘I cannot possibly give you one now. I cannot make such an important decision without giving it considerable thought.’

His eyes were steady on hers. ‘What is there to think about?’

‘A lot of things. For instance, would I be working directly under you?’

‘We’re a team, Celena.’ The predatory smile was back in place. ‘We work together.’

It was no answer at all as far as she was concerned.

‘Sit down,’ he said. ‘I’ll ask my secretary to bring you in some coffee. I have someone to see; I’ll be back in ten minutes.’

And that was all the time he was giving her! What would he do, she wondered, if she said no? Would he offer her even more money? It was already a ridiculously high salary, far more than she was worth, although she wouldn’t argue about that, and it would be extremely useful. In fact his offer was a lifeline, especially if Hillier and Jones were going out of business. It both confused and stunned her that she had heard no rumours to this effect.

But her main problem was Luciano Segurini himself, or at least her reaction to him. It set alarm bells jangling in her head, so loud that they threatened to deafen her. There was a strong danger that he could infiltrate her defences almost without her being aware of it.

Unless she was worrying for nothing! She’d never had much to do with Howard Hillier, the head of her present company, so maybe she wouldn’t see very much of this man either. It would be stupid to turn down such an exceptional offer simply because she was afraid of this charismatic man, afraid of what he might do to her emotions. And yet she could not help thinking that there was something else behind it, something he wasn’t telling her, some other more devious reason than needing a good copywriter.

Ten minutes had never passed so quickly. The sparsely furnished and yet functional office had settled down when he’d left, but the instant he returned it was filled with crackling electricity—and Celena’s mind was not made up.

‘Well, Celena?’

For the first time she realised that he was addressing her by her first name and she was not sure that she liked the familiarity. Actually no one ever called her Celena—everyone used the shortened form, Lena.

Nor did he resume his seat; instead he sat on the edge of his desk facing her, hands supporting him on either side, long legs outstretched. He was so close that she could smell the discreet, expensive aftershave he wore and it added to the drugging of her senses. No man had ever affected her like this, not so suddenly, not so violently—not against her will! Not even Andrew whom she had thought that she loved.

There was a pain in her chest where her heart pounded, a tightening of her throat, and she looked up at him and felt frightened. ‘I—I can’t take this job, Mr Segurini’

‘And why not, Celena?’ A smile curved his lips though it did not reach his eyes, revealing his displeasure at her refusal.

‘I need to find out whether it’s true what you say about Hillier and Jones.’

‘And when you find it is, what excuse will you use then?’

Celena drew in a deep breath. ‘It’s all very irregular, Mr Segurini. I cannot help feeling suspicious.’

‘Are you saying the extra money would not be useful?’ His voice was deep and disconcerting, sending shivers down her spine and uneasy sensations to the pit of her stomach.

‘I guess money is always useful,’ she admitted, ‘but it’s not always the answer.’ And why the hell was she procrastinating? Why didn’t she jump in with both feet and take his offer? Lord, she was a fool.

He pushed himself away from the desk and moved to the back of her chair, resting his hands on it and lowering himself so that his mouth was close to her ear. ‘You’re an amazing woman, Celena Coulsden.’

The soft words vibrated through every limb, through every nerve. She knew what he was doing—he was using his sensuality, confident that he would get through to her this way.

Fear struck. Surely he hadn’t guessed that she already felt an unnerving response? Surely she hadn’t given herself away? No, she was confident that she hadn’t. He was playing games, certain that he would come out on top.

She moved quickly, pushing herself to her feet, dodging away from him. ‘This is a very unorthodox interview, Mr Segurini.’

‘I’m an unorthodox man.’ It was a low growl, coming from somewhere deep in his throat. It set Celena’s whole body tingling.

‘Do you always use your sex appeal to get what you want?’ She kept her voice cool, her chin high. Since Andrew she had had plenty of practice at keeping the wolves at bay. She had a classically beautiful face with high cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes and a wide, generous mouth, and these combined with her willowy figure and her thick auburn hair made her the target of many men’s attention. She had got used to fending off their advances and now she gave Luciano Segurini one of her most damning looks.

His mouth twitched at the corners. ‘Was that what I was doing?’

‘It looked very much like it to me,’ she retorted crossly.

‘I wasn’t aware of the fact.’

‘Really?’ she asked disbelievingly.

‘I think your imagination is working overtime,’ he told her as he slid into the chair that she had vacated and put his feet up on the edge of the desk. ‘However, if I’m getting through to you, if I’m managing to persuade you that you would be doing both yourself and me a favour by taking this job, then it’s not a bad thing.’ He folded his arms and looked totally relaxed.

Celena was not deceived; he was still in complete command of the situation, though she was glad of the few feet that were now between them, and more especially of the advantage his sitting down had given her. She looked at him coldly. ‘You’re not getting through to me. As a matter of fact your behaviour is convincing me that I would be making a fatal mistake in accepting your offer.’

He frowned and sprang to his feet, his movements fluid despite the anger that surged through him. ‘My sincere apologies, Miss Coulsden. I thought the informality would help. Obviously I was wrong.’ He returned to his side of the desk and stood looking at her, and there was nothing now on his face to suggest that this was anything other than a normal job interview.

‘And you were wrong in assuming I would jump at this opportunity,’ she declared fiercely. ‘I think we have nothing further to say. Good morning, Mr Segurini.’ And even the fact that she knew she would regret her hastiness later did not make her change her mind.

To her amazement he let her go; he let her walk out of the room without saying another word, and when she got back to her office and made a few discreet enquiries she discovered that every word Luciano Segurini had said was true. It looked as though she was going to be jobless and penniless and Davina would definitely have to pull out of her school. The thought both saddened and distressed her.

* * *

That evening when she got home from work there was an enormous bouquet of white roses awaiting her. She picked them up from the doorstep and looked curiously at the card.

To the most amazing woman I have ever met. The offer is still open if you should change your mind. I will be in touch.

It was not signed—it did not have to be—and while Celina was relieved, financially, that she might be offered the job all over again she groaned inwardly at the thought that there could be another confrontation with the most amazing man she had ever met. So far she had told no one of her experience, having used the excuse of a dental appointment to cover her absence, and now she opened the door and moved inside.

When her parents had died she had sold their draughty Victorian house in Norfolk and moved nearer to London and her job, and this cosy mews house suited her very well. If it hadn’t been for Davina’s school fees she would have managed quite comfortably—as things stood it was a definite struggle.

She dropped the flowers on the kitchen worktop, contemplating whether to relegate them to the dustbin. If she dared put them in a vase they would be a constant reminder of the man who had had such a profound effect on her in such a short space of time. She took a shower and slipped into a comfortable jade-green silk jumpsuit

She prepared her evening meal—cold chicken left over from Sunday, with a green salad and new potatoes—and still the sweet-smelling roses lay where she had left them. She had just finished eating when the doorbell rang. As she was constantly being pestered by callers Celena was tempted not to answer—until it rang again and whoever it was kept a finger on the button.

Normally before opening the door Celena made sure that the safety chain was in place. On this occasion, however, she snatched it open without even thinking, intent on giving whoever it was a piece of her mind. Her mouth fell open. ‘Mr Segurini! What are you doing here?’

He smiled unnervingly. ‘I’m checking that my flowers arrived safely.’

Celena’s eyes were guarded. ‘A phone call would have sufficed. And yes, they have, thank you very much, though I can’t think why you sent them.’

‘I hope you like white roses.’ His thickly fringed eyes made a slow and thorough appraisal of her body, starting at the tip of her pink-painted toenails, rising slowly, pausing fractionally on her breasts, and again on her mouth, then coming to a complete halt when they reached her eyes.

Celena felt breathless. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. They were her favourite, though he couldn’t have known that.

‘It’s a pity that when one orders flowers one never actually gets to see them.’

‘If you’re after an invite into my house then you’re out of luck.’ She desperately tried to quell the surging of her senses. He had changed into a pair of lightweight blue trousers and a matching cashmere sweater, the casual clothes emphasising his hard-muscled body, making him an even more dangerous adversary. Her mind might tell her that he was not to be trusted, but her body certainly had no such reservations.

‘I thought perhaps we could go out for a drink, get to know each other better, discuss my offer in more detail.’ He smiled as he spoke, his brown eyes still intent on hers.

The audacity of the man! Celena’s heart leapt but she made herself frown, saying crossly, ‘Don’t you ever take no for an answer?’

‘Not if I really want something.’

‘And you want me?’ It was the wrong thing to have said; she felt a flush coming to her cheeks, which was insane—she hadn’t blushed in years. Celena decided to rephrase her question. ‘I mean, you want me to work for you?’

His lips twitched as he recognised her discomfiture. ‘You’re perfect for the job.’

‘I think there’s more to it,’ she retorted.

He frowned. ‘What ever gave you that idea?’

‘Your insistence, for one thing.’

‘And for another?’

‘Feminine intuition.’ Her tone was cool. She had herself in control now.

He smiled. ‘Ah, that.’

‘Yes, that,’ she snapped. ‘Are you denying that I am right?’

‘It’s an interesting theory. How about we go out and discuss it?’

Celena let out an impatient sigh. ‘I don’t want to go out I’ve had a hell of a day, with no thanks to you; I planned on an early night.’

He shot a glance at his watch—an expensive gold affair. Cartier probably, she decided, seeing the Roman numerals on its face. Everything about this man spelt wealth, and he seemed to think that it could get him whatever he wanted. She had no doubt that he intended to offer her an even higher salary.

‘It’s early yet—only a little after eight,’ he said. ‘Perhaps we could talk here? I promise to take up no more than an hour of your time.’

She felt a fresh surge of apprehension. ‘I never allow strangers into my house.’

Thick brows lifted. ‘I don’t think we’re entirely strangers, and I promise you, Miss Coulsden, that my intentions are strictly honourable.’ He chuckled as he said it. ‘An old-fashioned turn of phrase. Let me put it another way. I have no designs on your body, beautiful though it is. You’ll be perfectly safe.’

And Celena surprised herself by believing him. She found him dangerous in many ways, but felt instinctively that she could accept his word on this occasion. ‘Very well.’ She stepped back reluctantly. ‘Though I promise you you’ll be wasting your time; I never change my mind once it is made up.’

His lips quirked. ‘And I never accept no for an answer. An impasse, no less. It will be interesting to see who wins.’

The character of the house changed as he stepped inside. It had always had a relaxed, comfortable feeling, but the instant this man entered the whole atmosphere became charged—as it had in his office! It was going to be a difficult meeting, Celena decided.

She led him down the hallway to her sitting room at the back, which overlooked a pleasant courtyard which she had filled with tubs and containers growing a profusion of colourful plants and climbing shrubs, making the small area look almost Mediterranean.

‘Please sit down.’ She indicated a dumpy armchair that she had recovered in rust linen, but sat on the opposite side of the room herself on a straight wooden chair with her back to the French windows. It put him at a disadvantage because the low evening sunlight slanted right into his eyes.

She had reckoned without his guessing her tactics. He got up and smiled—that wolfish smile which hinted that he was in complete control. ‘You take the comfortable chair.’

He held out a hand and she had no choice, but she ignored his offer of help, pulling the curtains slightly before she sat down. But not enough. The sun still caught the chair and made her squint as she looked at him.

‘The hot spot?’ he queried. ‘Good try, Miss Coulsden, but I prefer to be the one in control.’

She said nothing, hiding her embarrassment, looking at him with her lips clamped together, her grey eyes stormy. ‘OK, make your offer.’

Their eyes met and held for several long, suspenseful seconds—seconds during which Celena’s heart catapulted once again with violent emotion.

‘I think,’ he said, his tone low and meaningful, ‘that first of all we ought to analyse your motives for refusing.’

She lifted one eyebrow. ‘Analyse? There is nothing to analyse.’

‘No?’ he asked sceptically. ‘No one except the very rich wouldn’t like to earn more money.’

Her eyes flashed. ‘And you’re one of that élite band, thinking that your money can buy anything you’ve set your heart on. Let me tell you this, Mr Segurini—I refuse to be bought Didn’t I make myself clear?’

‘Did you check on the situation with your present employers?’

She inclined her head. ‘You were right,’ she admitted grudgingly.

‘And you have a mortgage on this house?’

‘I don’t see that that is any business of yours,’ she retorted. He probably knew anyway; it was very likely one of the pieces of information stored in his computer system. Her parents’ house hadn’t fetched all that much, and property here was so much dearer, so yes, she did have a mortgage.

‘And then, of course,’ he said with a slow, knowing smile as he delivered his pièce de résistance, ‘there are your sister’s school fees. It must be quite a struggle for you, Celena.’

Celena gasped, even though she knew she ought not to be surprised, and jumped to her feet, moving so that the sun was not glaring into her eyes. ‘Get out of here, you swine. You have no right prying into—’

‘You’re even more beautiful when you’re angry,’ he cut in softly. ‘It amazes me that some man hasn’t snapped you up before now. You need the job, Celena; why don’t you take it?’

He was right—she did need it; she could not afford to turn him down a second time. But there was still defiance in her eyes. ‘Only if you triple my present salary,’ she declared, chin jutting.

A wide smile softened the harsh contours of his face; white teeth gleamed. ‘Done.’ He stood too and held out his hand and Celena was compelled to take it ‘I knew you would come to your senses. Everyone has their price.’

His grip pulverised her hand, but more shocking than that were the waves of electricity that ran through her—the chemical reaction that she had felt in his office but which was much stronger here. Please God, don’t let our paths cross too often, she prayed silently.

CHAPTER TWO

ONE month later Celena began working for Luse and for the first week and a half, much to her relief, she saw nothing of Luciano, though his name was on everyone’s lips. Luciano this, Luciano that, Luciano wants, Luciano would like, et cetera, et cetera. And Luciano got!

She was also quizzed tirelessly as to how she had got her job. No one had left; there had been no real vacancy. It was apparently a made-up job, and one that puzzled everyone else as much as Celena. A second bouquet of white roses had arrived—this time the card had simply read ‘Thank you’.

And then came the summons to the big man’s office. To her annoyance Celena felt her heart pounding long before she reached the end of the corridor which took her to his room. She paused a moment outside to regain her equilibrium and was standing there breathing deeply when the door was suddenly yanked opened.

‘What are you doing, Miss Coulsden?’ Luciano Segurini asked with considerable amusement. ‘Plucking up courage to face the lion in his den?’

He was so very near the mark that to save herself embarrassment she said, ‘Naturally. You’re held in very high esteem, Mr Segurini A call to your sanctum is not to be treated lightly. What is it—am I getting the sack, or a raise?’

His lips quirked as he motioned her inside. ‘Very few of my employees would dare to speak to me like that’

‘Really?’ She allowed a faint frown. ‘Didn’t you tell me, just after I accepted this job, that you’re one big happy family here? No distinction between the classes, so to speak? If that is the case I see no reason why I can’t say what I like.’ As he had been ready to go to any lengths to employ her she had no fear of dismissal.

‘No matter.’ He motioned her to sit down, settling himself behind his huge desk as he had on that first occasion. And now, as then, Celena felt her skin tingle, felt the enormous pull of his magnetism, and puzzled anew at her unexpected and uncharacteristic response.

‘Have you any immediate plans, Celena?’

She frowned faintly, not altogether sure that she understood.

‘I mean personal ones. Holidays, that sort of thing.’ His tone was crisp and professional and it was a relief to hear him talking like this.

‘No.’ She resisted the temptation to say she was sure that he knew anyway, that he had everything on computer down to the birthmark on her left thigh. He probably even knew what her bank balance was.

‘Good, because I want you to accompany me to Sicily.’

‘Sicily?’ she repeated in amazement.

‘Yes, my home country.’

‘And for what reason am I to accompany you?’ Alarm bells sounded once again in her head—extra loud ones this time.

‘Purely business, of course. I handle quite a lot of advertising over there.’

‘And why do you need me?’

‘Isn’t that clear?’ he asked sharply, as though she was stupid for missing the point. ‘You’re doubly qualified. It will save both time and money if you can come up with ideas on the spot.’

She eyed him guardedly. ‘And this is what you had in mind right from the offset?’

He inclined his head.

‘Why didn’t you say so?’

‘Would you have agreed to work for me, knowing I was going to whisk you off abroad?’ He tapped a pencil on his thumbnail and watched her closely.

Celena smiled faintly. ‘Maybe not. On the other hand I might have seen it as an exciting opportunity.’

‘So you are happy about accompanying me?’

She saw no point in arguing: he would undoubtedly get his own way in the end. ‘So long as it is strictly business.’

‘You have my word,’ he said.

‘How long will we be away?’

He shrugged. ‘A day or two—just long enough to tie things up.’

The flight took two and a half hours. They booked into a hotel in Palermo, and over dinner Luciano surprised her by talking about his childhood.

‘Families here are very close knit, as you probably know. My mother died when I was four and I was brought up by my maternal grandparents—with a great deal of well-intentioned interference from my great-grandmother. Although neither my father nor my grandparents are alive now, Bisnonna still is, bless her heart. She will be ninety-three this year.’

He sounded very fond of her and Celena felt envious for a moment as she had no grandparents of her own, both sets having died when she was very young, before Davina had even been born.

‘I went to England to finish my education at Oxford,’ he went on, ‘and liked your country so much that I made it my home. Naturally I still come back here several times a year; my family would never forgive me if I didn’t.’

‘You have brothers and sisters?’ she asked.

He inclined his head. ‘Two brothers and a sister: Gabriella—she is the youngest; Paolo is next, then Filippo. You will meet them tomorrow.’

Celena frowned sharply. ‘We are visiting your family?’

‘Naturally. I couldn’t possibly come to Sicily and not see them.’

‘You told me it was purely a business trip,’ she said accusingly.

His lips curved. ‘And what is wrong with combining business with pleasure? Treat the break as an added bonus, Celena.’

Some bonus, she thought. ‘Are they married, your brothers and sister?’

‘All of them.’

‘So why aren’t you?’ It was a question she ought not to have asked; it was too intrusive, considering they were employer and employee, and the sudden harshness of his face confirmed it. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quickly. ‘Forget I said that. This is a very good bolognese.’

‘And so it should be.’ His face relaxed. ‘But wait until you taste our bolognese. It is a very special family recipe. It is meraviglioso.’

There was obviously some reason why he hadn’t married and she wondered what it was. She guessed him to be somewhere in his mid-thirties and found it strange that he was still a bachelor. He was most eligible so why had no one snapped him up? The fault had to lie with him. Maybe his work took up too much of his time. Maybe he’d had a bad experience. Maybe, maybe—there could be a thousand and one explanations.

In bed that night, in her hotel room next to Luciano’s, Celena could not rid her mind of him. He had to be the most intriguing man she had ever met—visually exciting, physically stimulating, disgustingly rich—everything a girl could wish for.

It disturbed her that Luciano had made such a strong impact, that he was infiltrating her defences so easily. After the numbing discovery that Andrew was seeing another woman behind her back she had thought herself immune to this sort of thing. This coupled with the fact that the girl had been her best friend had made her vow never to trust anyone again. She had thrown herself wholeheartedly into her career and no one since had managed to arouse any sort of feeling within her. She was even nicknamed ‘the ice-woman’ among her contemporaries.

The short flight from England in Luciano’s private jet had been an experience in itself. Not only had she been impressed that he had his own plane, and that it was fitted out to very high standards with a comfortable lounge and a fully equipped office, she had also been overwhelmed by the strength of his personality.

Each time they met the air tingled, but in the close confines of his Lear jet Celena had felt it even more strongly. She had experienced great difficulty in breathing, as though there had been no air in the cabin. He’d filled the whole space with his presence, and although he had busied himself at his computer, keeping in touch with everything that was going on in his business world, she had been unable to ignore him.

And now, even though a brick wall divided them, she could still feel him, still sense the hidden power he wielded over her. It troubled her deeply; he was most definitely a force to be reckoned with.

Very little sleep and an early morning call, as well as her uneasiness where Luciano was concerned, made Celena irritable, and when she met him at the breakfast table she barely smiled.

‘Are you not feeling well?’ he asked, looking fresh and vital in a white shirt and dark linen trousers, the inevitable aftershave faintly tormenting her, black hair still damp from his shower.

‘I have a headache.’ It was a lie but the best excuse she could come up with. She couldn’t very well say, I lay awake all night thinking about you. It confused even her.

He had been in her life for six weeks, they had made contact on only three occasions before coming out here, and yet he had completely taken over her mind. It was crazy. At least he had kept his word and made no advances—yet! She had been sure to lock her door last night

‘Are you prone to headaches?’ he asked sharply. ‘Do you suffer from migraine?’

Celena shook her head.

‘Then I guess it’s just the travelling and the change. Take a couple of aspirin; you’ll soon feel better.’

‘What are our plans for today?’ she asked. She felt uncomfortable about being introduced to his relatives. Would they believe the strictly business scenario? Or would they think she was his current girlfriend? Did he frequently take girls home?

She dismissed the thought immediately. He had told her that he had come from a very old Sicilian family, an aristocratic family no less, with old-fashioned views on girlfriends and marriage. He would hardly give the impression of being a philanderer.

‘This morning, business,’ he answered, his chin lifted in one of his unconscious arrogant gestures. ‘This afternoon we will visit my family.’ He watched her closely as he spoke, saw her sudden tension. ‘Do not worry, Celena; they will love you.’

She frowned. Love her! It was an odd expression. Why would they love a business associate? All along she had felt nervous about the whole thing—about the unexpected job offer, the unreal salary, and finally this trip to Sicily. Had she been right to worry? ‘Is there something you haven’t told me, Mr Segurini?’

‘Luciano, please,’ he said.

‘Why?’ Her grey eyes were as troubled as a stormtossed sea.

‘Why what?’ he asked with a sudden frown.

‘Why should I call you Luciano when you are the owner of the company that employs me? I think it would be wrong to be on first-name terms when I am the very newest member of your team, especially as this is a business trip.’

‘Both business and pleasure,’ he told her. ‘It is always a pleasure to be with my family.’

‘And always a pleasure to take a girl with you?’ she asked sharply.

‘No.’ He paused a moment, seeming to be deep in thought. ‘I have never taken a girl home.’

At least that answered one question. ‘You’ve never been serious about anyone?’

A muscle moved in his jaw. ‘Yes, I have been serious, but it didn’t work out I’d rather not discuss it. Have you finished? I want to make an early start.’

Celena realised that she had unwittingly hit a raw nerve, and although she was curious she knew it would be unwise to press the issue. Perhaps later, when she got to know him better, she might find out about this girl who had had such a profound effect on him. She was obviously the reason why he had never married.

Their appointment was with a well-known car-manufacturing company, and it was an exciting brief; Celena felt honoured that she had been asked to take part.

One other thing in her favour was that she spoke Italian—no doubt Luciano had known that as well when he’d invited her to take the job, she thought drily, and had been what he’d meant when he’d said she was doubly qualified—and even though the Sicilian dialect was different she was still able to understand, and the Sicilians themselves were impressed with her knowledge of their language. All in all she made a very big hit with them.

Afterwards they had lunch in a restaurant on the outskirts of Palermo and Luciano praised her warmly, but he did not linger; he was clearly anxious to see his family, and in particular his great-grandmother. He spoke of her constantly and it was very evident that there was a close bond between them.

He took the autostrada east along the coast, driving for about fifty miles before turning south through the centre of the island. The mountains were high and dramatic, river valleys cutting deeply into the landscape. The highway strode along the valley of the Hymera River, following the base of the Madonie Mountains, eventually arriving at the fortress town of Enna with its castle and its legend of Demeter and Persephone.

Finally Luciano stopped in front of an old palazzo on the outskirts of the town. Celena looked in wonder at the large, magnificent stone mansion with its arches and pillars and west wings and east wings and goodness knew what else. It had once, obviously, been very beautiful but now had a neglected air, as though no one bothered any more. Nevertheless she was extremely impressed. She had not envisaged anything as grand as this.

The grilled door swung slowly open as they approached, creaking on its hinges, and a young woman dressed in black smiled shyly at Luciano and curiously at Celena.

‘Buon giomo, Francesca,’ he said, and, still speaking in his native language, added, ‘My great-grandmother is expecting us?’

Francesca nodded, her smile widening, and she was obviously in complete awe of Luciano.

After introducing Celena he led her up an impressive, wide curving staircase. At the top was a stained-glass window through which the sun cast a myriad different colours. It was like walking into fairyland.

Along a red-carpeted corridor they went, through a door, and down another passage, all with ornate plaster-work and beautiful crystal chandeliers. A heavy wooden door faced them. Luciano knocked, and even he did not enter without permission.

‘Avanti!’

Celena had expected a quiet, quavering voice, not this strong, authoritative one. She glanced questioningly at Luciano but all he did was smile reassuringly as they entered the shaded room.

Great-grandmother Segurini was tiny, sitting upright on a red velvet chair, dressed all in black, with a square of black lace over her white hair. Dark eyes had sunk into their sockets many years ago yet they held an imperiousness that told that she was still the undisputed matriarch of the family. They brightened when she saw her great-grandson and he moved swiftly across the room to kiss her cheek and give her a bear-like hug.

‘You are here at last,’ she said in her native tongue. ‘I have waited so long for your visit, Luciano. And this is Celena? Come closer, child; let me look at you.’

Celena obediently edged forward, surprised that Luciano had already mentioned her.

‘Goodness, you are prettier than your photograph!’ exclaimed the woman.

Photograph! What was she talking about? Celena frowned at Luciano but he shook his head and made a tiny gesture with his hand for her to say nothing. She decided that any photograph must have been of his previous girlfriend and he wanted to save his great-grandmother embarrassment by keeping quiet She and the girlfriend were obviously very similar in appearance for his great-grandmother to have made this mistake.

Celena’s eyes had grown accustomed to the dimness now and she was able to see Giacoma Segurini more clearly. Thin, gnarled fingers were heavily adorned with diamonds and garnets, as were her throat and ears. She sat like a queen on her throne—and Celena had no doubt that this was how the family regarded her. But despite her upright bearing and her imperious air she looked pale and frail, as though her hold on life was very tenuous.

The old lady held out her hands and Celena took them and was given a kiss on each cheek. ‘Luciano has chosen well,’ she said, smiling happily. ‘Everyone is very anxious to meet you.’

‘But I’m not who you—’ Celena began, anxious to set the matter straight. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Luciano stiffen, but she did not care. It was wrong of him to deceive his great-grandmother. Why couldn’t he tell her the truth, for heaven’s sake? But the old woman totally ignored Celena’s attempt to speak.

‘He has told you, I expect, that he is my eldest and most favourite great-grandchild?’

‘Yes,’ she admitted huskily. ‘But I really must—’

‘He has disappointed me, however, by not getting married before now. Thirty-seven!’ She tutted as though scandalised. ‘My own husband was twenty-two when I married him; I was twenty. When he was Luciano’s age our eldest was already fourteen, and we had three other children besides. How old are you, Celena?’

Twenty-eight,’ she answered reluctantly. It was quite obvious that she was not going to be given the chance to speak.

Again the old woman tutted. ‘You people today, what is wrong with you? Where is all the love and romance gone? You work, work, work. You spend all your lives working instead of bringing up a family. I do not understand.’

‘Things have changed, Bisnonna,’ said Luciano.

The woman spread her hands expansively. ‘Maybe, but I do not like it. I do not approve. At least now you have come to your senses and you have chosen a beautiful girl. Leave us alone, Luciano; I would like to talk with her.’

‘Not now, Bisnonna,’ he said soothingly, much to Celena’s dismay. It would have been the ideal opportunity to tell this quite remarkable old lady exactly who she was. ‘We were up early; we’ve had a busy day; Celena needs to rest.’

‘Then later,’ announced the woman regally.

Once outside the room Celena turned furiously on Luciano. ‘What sort of game are you playing, letting your great-grandmother think that I am your girlfriend?’

‘It is just a little deception,’ he answered easily—too easily, Celena thought. ‘It will do no harm.’

‘I don’t agree,’ she retorted. ‘The woman is in her element. How is she going to feel when she discovers that I’m nothing more than an employee? She looks so frail and ill that the shock will probably kill her.’

‘Then perhaps we should say nothing.’

Celena’s heart gave a warning thud and she looked at him warily. ‘I trust you’re not serious.’

‘Perfectly,’ he announced.

She shook her head. ‘This is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. I will not be a part of it; I insist that you tell her, right now.’

‘I cannot do that, Celena.’ His brown eyes were steady on hers.

‘Then I will tell her myself,’ she declared firmly, and took a step back towards the door.

‘Oh, no, you won’t.’ Luciano grasped her arm and forcibly led her away from his great-grandmother’s apartment, and he did not stop until he reached the privacy of a book-filled study on the ground floor. There he sat her down on a burgundy leather chesterfield and his expression was utterly ruthless as he stood over her. ‘I want my whole family to accept that you are my girlfriend.’

Celena stilled. ‘This isn’t accidental, is it?’ she asked in a frozen whisper. ‘You’ve set me up. The job was nothing more than a decoy.’ She had expected something, had known he would not pay her such a high salary for nothing—but she had certainly never anticipated being put into such an uncomfortable and undesirable position.

‘I wouldn’t exactly say that,’ he said, still with the same implacable expression on his face. ‘You’re already an asset to the team—a very valuable asset. This is just some little thing I want you to do for me.’

‘Little?’ she queried tartly. ‘I don’t call living a lie a little thing. It’s outrageous; I absolutely refuse.’

‘You would hurt my great-grandmamma?’ he asked, and managed to sound astonished. ‘As you said yourself, the shock of discovering what I am trying to do would very likely finish her off. It was purely to make an old woman very happy that I came up with this idea.

‘But why me?’ she asked tightly.

‘Because—’ he sat down beside her and attempted to take her hands into his, but Celena snatched angrily away ‘—because of your likeness to Simone,’ he said. ‘It’s uncanny.’

‘The girl in the photograph?’

‘Yes.’

‘The girl you didn’t want to talk about?’

‘The very same.’

‘I think I deserve an explanation,’ said Celena, her chin high, her eyes cold.

He was quiet for a moment and then said softly, ‘Six months ago I thought I was in love with Simone; she was everything I wanted in a woman—beautiful, kind, loving. I’d had girlfriends on and off over the years, naturally, but Simone was someone special.’

‘So what happened?’

His eyes turned black—deep, empty pits that echoed a pain he kept deep in his heart. ‘I slowly began to realise that I was wrong about her, that she was shallow and selfish and nothing like the girl I’d imagined her to be. But it was not until she ditched me for a man even richer than myself—an older man—much older—’ his lips twisted in disgust ‘—that I knew I’d been conned. She was yet another fortune-hunter—and I’ve had my fair share of those. A very clever one, a very talented lady. It certainly taught me a thing or two. I shall most definitely never fall in love again. I intend to remain a bachelor to the end of my days.’

‘You had a rough time,’ agreed Celena, privately thinking that he must have been a fool not to see through this woman, ‘but I still don’t understand why I should masquerade as Simone. What’s wrong with telling your family the truth?’

‘Because,’ he said slowly, ‘they are expecting you.’

CHAPTER THREE

‘EXPECTING me?’ squeaked Celena. ‘I don’t understand.’

Luciano’s mouth twisted wryly. ‘I’d already told them I’d met a wonderful girl, and obviously they expected me to bring her on this visit. I couldn’t possibly let my bisnonna down. She has been so excited ever since she found out that there was finally someone serious in my life.’

He must love his great-grandmother very dearly, thought Celena, to want to carry out this charade, and found it a surprising side to his character—one she had not expected. She warmed to him a little but was still not sure that she wanted to be a part of his devious plot.

‘I can’t see it working,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘They will surely sense that there is no love between us.’

‘I’m expecting you to put on an act.’ His voice went an octave lower, his brown eyes locking with hers, and triggered her senses in a way no one else had. Not even Andrew had managed to arouse her just by the tone of his voice.

‘I couldn’t; I couldn’t do that,’ she told him breathlessly.

‘Am I repulsive to you?’ It was a sudden, animal growl, attacking her defences, sending her whole body into panic.

‘No.’ Her answer came out as a yelp and she swallowed and tried again. ‘No, you’re not, but—we’re strangers—we—I—couldn’t possibly—’ And then on a stronger note she said, ‘I wish you’d been straight with me.’

His dark brows rose. ‘I could hardly go up to a stranger and ask her to pretend to be my future wife.’

‘So you dreamt up the job, got me out here, and hoped that when I saw your great-grandmother I would agree to do what you want,’ she accused him heatedly.

He inclined his head. ‘That was the general idea. She’s quite a person, isn’t she?’

The thought that he’d had his eye on her for some time sent a shiver of unease down Celena’s spine. She did not like to think that he had been observing her, talking about her, collecting his dossier on her while she had been in complete ignorance. She could not recollect ever having seen him before—and yet he knew about her! He had chosen her because of her startling resemblance to Simone.

Changing the direction of her thoughts, Celena tried to imagine what the pretence—if she agreed to it—would be like, what meeting the rest of the family would be like. ‘I’m no actress,’ she said, speaking her thoughts out loud. ‘I’m not sure that I could carry it off, Mr Segurini.’

He gave a snort of anger. ‘Will you call me Luciano, please? And of course you can; there’s nothing to it Just forget I’m your employer; think of me as a friend—a close friend. Do that and the rest will fall into place.’

Celena wondered whether he realised the enormity of his request. It was unreal, unfair, and yet she did not like to think of the old woman upstairs being hurt, possibly giving up her fragile hold on life after all these years of waiting and hoping for Luciano to find himself a bride. It would be on her conscience for the rest of her life if that happened. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to go along with it for a day or two?

Also, if she did refuse, he could quite easily terminate her employment And where would that leave her? And Davina? Fourteen now, top of her class, with excellent prospects, her sister dreamt about becoming a doctor—it was her passion in life. How could she be selfish enough to squash those dreams?

She heaved a sigh and Luciano must have seen the acceptance in her eyes because he said, ‘Is that a yes?’

‘I just hope I don’t regret it,’ Celena muttered.

‘You’ll knock them flat,’ he declared. ‘And I think now might be a good time to seal our bargain. You might even call it a rehearsal.’

Celena had no idea what he was talking about until he closed the gap between them and drew her into the circle of his arms. She opened her mouth to protest, only to find it captured by a pair of sensual, warm lips—lips that coaxed and burned and turned her insides to fire.

The kiss seemed to last for ever, every nerve and pulse in Celena’s body responding instantly and feverishly. It was with a supreme effort of will that she kept her feelings hidden, and when Luciano finally pulled away, saying, ‘Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?’ she looked heatedly into his face.

‘I think you took an enormous liberty.’ And deep down inside she was devastated to think how vulnerable she had suddenly become, how difficult the next few days were going to be.

‘At least I’ve proved that you don’t find me totally abhorrent.’ He smiled, satisfied, and sat back away from her.

Celena’s eyes flashed. ‘You had better not do it too often,’ she declared fiercely.

His lips quirked. ‘I’m a very tactile man, Celena.’

‘Well, you’d better be untactile where I’m concerned,’ she raged, ‘or you might end up with egg on your face.’ Insisting that he leave her alone was her only form of defence, the only way she could keep her traitorous feelings hidden.

‘Don’t let me down, Celena.’ It was spoken softly but a warning nevertheless.

She swallowed hard. ‘It’s the most difficult thing I’ve ever been asked to do.’

‘I agree it’s unusual,’ he said, ‘but I don’t think it will be difficult, and naturally I shall make it worth your while.’

Celena pushed herself angrily to her feet ‘Why does everything always come down to money? As far as I’m concerned it’s all part of my job—I don’t want paying extra for it. Being paid to be kissed by you makes me sound like a—’

He interrupted her swiftly, harshly, springing up also. ‘You’ve made your point, Celena. It’s just that I’m used to—’

‘Paying for whatever you want,’ she cut in sharply. ‘I’m not impressed. Don’t forget my name’s not Simone. There are some things money can’t buy, Luciano. Hell, I can’t call you that—it’s too much of a mouthful. I’ll call you Luc.’ She pronounced it Luke.

He shrugged. ‘As you wish.’

‘What’s going to happen when I’ve served my purpose?’ she asked bluntly. ‘Will I get my marching orders?’

His eyes flickered impatiently. ‘The job will be yours for as long as you want it’

‘A high price to pay for a few days of someone pretending to be your girlfriend,’ she retorted scathingly.

‘I happen to think you’re worth it.’ Anger darkened his face now. ‘Enough of this conversation. Francesca will show you to your room. Tonight my whole family is dining with us. Please dress yourself accordingly.’ He was every inch the Sicilian aristocrat in that moment—and Celena hated him.

Along miles of corridor Francesca took her, finally opening a door and showing Celena inside. When the girl offered to unpack Celena shook her head with an apologetic smile. ‘Thank you, but it won’t be necessary; I haven’t much.’ And certainly nothing glamorous enough for a grand dinner with the Segurinis!

It was a large, high-ceilinged room with yet more ornate plasterwork and beautiful old furniture. The bare wooden floor was highly polished with a cotton rug either side of the bed. Furnished in muted shades of blue, it was pleasant and relaxing, though Celena was far too uptight to appreciate this fact.

The house was high on the mountainside and the tall, deep windows, with their stone balustrades, gave stunning panoramic views over the island. In the distance she could see Mount Etna and, to one side, the blue of the ocean, with drifts of colour from wild flowers on the hillside.

She sat for long moments staring out, thinking over the commitment she had made. Everything had conspired to make her say yes—Giacoma’s obvious ill health, Davina’s school fees, her own fear of being jobless. Everything. All she could hope was that she wouldn’t live to regret it

Eventually she took a shower in the adjoining bathroom, and then pulled on a pale green silk shirtwaister that she had packed in case they had any business dinners. It wasn’t exactly what she would have chosen for the occasion confronting her now, but it was the best she could do.

After brushing her hair and applying the minimum of make-up up she sat down again at the window. The sun was sinking fast now; soon it would be dark. When Luciano entered after only the lightest tap on the door she shot up from her seat and looked at him crossly. ‘I could have been naked.’

‘I guessed you’d be ready and waiting,’ he said easily, walking across the room towards her. He had changed into a grey shirt and grey moleskin trousers and looked devastating, but Celena still glared.

‘I am ready, but—waiting? I hardly think so. I cannot believe that I let you talk me into this.’

His mouth tightened. ‘The family are anxious to meet you. I’d like it if you snapped out of that mood.’

‘I feel pressured,’ she said defensively.

He took her by the shoulders and she thought he was going to shake her; instead he said with surprising softness, ‘There is no need.’

A shudder ran through her at his touch. Despite her fears she could not ignore the sensations he evoked; they thrilled unbounded through her body.

‘You’re trembling,’ he said, and sounded surprised. ‘Are you really so afraid?’

Celena grasped the excuse. ‘Of course I am,’ she whispered shakily. ‘I’m terrified.’

‘There is nothing to be frightened of,’ he assured her. ‘My family are very normal people, just like you and me.’

Normal! He was a Sicilian aristocrat; how could that be normal? ‘I’ll be on show,’ she declared. They’ll be watching, they’ll be judging, they’ll be—’

‘They’ll adore you,’ he told her firmly.

She shook her head. ‘You’re the eldest; you’ve kept them waiting; I shall have a lot to live up to. They will expect someone special after all these years.’

‘You are special,’ he told her.

‘But not special in the way they’ll be thinking,’ she insisted. Only special because he had selected her for the part! she thought

‘You’re being ridiculous,’ he grated, impatient now. ‘I will be at your side; you need never feel that you are on your own.’

Of course he would be at her side—he would be watching her like a hawk, making sure that she did not let him down. She pushed him away from her and her eyes shot sparks of fire. ‘If it gets too much and I fail, then don’t blame me.’

‘You will not let me down, Celena.’ He was as imperious as his great-grandmother at that moment, and it was easy to see from where he had got his strength and the supreme confidence that whatever he wanted he could have.

The meal was every bit as bad as Celena had expected. Giacoma did not put in an appearance, but Filippo and Paolo, Luc’s brothers, and Gabriella, his sister, all swamped her with questions. Their respective spouses were present too and all eyes were on her. Celena felt as though she was being put through a third degree.

‘How did you meet Luciano?’ asked Gabriella.

‘How long have you known each other?’ questioned Filippo.

‘How soon do you plan to get married?’ enquired Paolo.

‘Do you work?’

‘Do you have brothers and sisters?’

‘What do your parents think of Luciano?’

And so it went on and on until Celena’s head was in a whirl and she could neither eat nor drink nor answer any more questions.

Luciano put up his hand. ‘I think that’s enough,’ he said in his most authoritative voice. There’ll be plenty of time to talk to Celena.’

‘Of course,’ said Gabriella sympathetically. ‘We must be confusing you. It’s just that we’ve waiting so long for Luciano to announce his intention of getting married. We can see now why he took his time. You’re very beautiful, Celena. Your engagement party is going to be the biggest social occasion of the year. Simply everyone is coming.’

Celena’s heart slammed against her ribcage and she looked swiftly and accusingly at Luciano. What engagement party? her eyes flashed. ‘I think we ought to talk,’ she grated under her breath.

‘Later,’ he muttered.

‘Now!’ she insisted.

He turned to his family and smiled. ‘I’m afraid Celena has developed a headache. Will you excuse us?’

He took her outside into a walled courtyard that was lit by coach lamps set into the walls. She turned on him viciously. ‘Something else you conveniently forgot to tell me?’

He shrugged, spreading his hands in a typical Latin gesture. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘We’re getting engaged and you say it’s nothing,’ she accused him furiously. ‘You strung me along, knowing I wouldn’t agree. God, I hate you. How could you do this to me? When would you have told me about our engagement? An hour beforehand?’ She shook her head in anger and bewilderment. ‘I can’t take it in; it’s unbelievable.’ And as another, even darker thought struck her she said, ‘Don’t tell me you’ve fixed a date for the wedding as well?’

He shook his head emphatically. ‘I wouldn’t do that, Celena.’

‘Wouldn’t you?’ Her eyebrows rose in furious disdain. ‘I wouldn’t put anything past you. My goodness, is it really so important?’

‘To me it is,’ he answered.

‘Because you love your great-grandmamma.’

‘That is right.’

She admired him for it but even so…Her blood boiled. ‘So much that you’d lie, that you’d pluck a strange girl off the street and pretend she is the love of your life?’ Again she shook her head. ‘I can’t believe any of this. It’s like a nightmare; I hope it is one. I hope I’m going to wake up and find myself back home, back in my old job, never having heard the name Luciano Segurini.’ She turned away, walking over the old flagstones which had been worn smooth by countless footsteps before hers. She kicked at a loose pebble. ‘I hate you, Luciano.’

‘I didn’t pluck you off the streets, Celena,’ he said, and there was an edge of anger to his voice too. ‘I chose you deliberately.’

‘Because I resemble Simone?’ she grated, not even looking at him.

He gave an exasperated sigh. ‘It was one of the reasons.’

She glanced at him then, scornfully. ‘When did you first see me and realise that I looked like your exlover?’

‘At an advertising convention in Birmingham.’

Her fine brows shot up. ‘That was over six months ago. You were going out with Simone then.’

‘I know.’

But it hadn’t stopped him looking at other girls! ‘And so, when your relationship with Simone ended, you immediately thought of me—is that what you’re saying?’ she asked crisply. It sounded like a whole pack of lies.

Luciano nodded.

‘I must have made quite an impression,’ she returned drily.

‘It wasn’t the only time I saw you—or heard of you,’ he confessed. ‘Clayton Smythe is a personal friend of mine.’

Her boss at Hillier and Jones! She looked at Luciano now in surprise. ‘He never said, not even when I put in my notice. Was he aware of your plans?’

‘Only that I wanted you to work for me,’ he told her.

Thank goodness for that, she thought It was bad enough being duped into all of this without someone else knowing about it before her.

‘I think you’re a swine,’ she said furiously.

‘But you won’t let me down.’ It was a statement of fact, a warning, and his eyes glittered dangerously. He was being very calm but all hell would break loose if she dared to refuse.

Celena’s chin lifted. ‘I’m in a dilemma, aren’t I? You’ve cornered me. I either tell everyone what a bastard you are and hurt your precious great-grandmamma or I go along with it. There is no other choice.’ And the trouble was that she already liked Giacoma; she did not want to hurt this grand old lady. ‘The point is, Luc, how long are you expecting me to keep up this pretence?’

‘Only until after the engagement party,’ he assured her.

Could she believe him? He had not once told her the whole story; first it had been just a job, then would she please pretend to be his girlfriend, now she was expected to agree to becoming his fiancee. And what next? He had denied the marriage bit but could it be what he had in mind? Would she do herself a great disservice if she carried on with this play-acting? Would she end up in his bed, bearing his children? The thought was too horrifying to contemplate.

‘How can I trust you?’ she asked, grey eyes still fierce. ‘You’ve already forced me into coming here—maybe not physically, but with clever words and subtle persuasion.’

‘Forced you, Celena?’ he asked, black brows rising, tone brusque. ‘It was your decision—yours alone. Are you suggesting that you are easily led?’

She let her breath out in an angry hiss. ‘I can’t win with you, can I?’

‘There are no winners and losers,’ he said. ‘All I’m asking is a favour. You’ll be amply rewarded.’

‘I don’t want rewarding,’ Celena snapped. ‘I don’t want anything. I just want to be left alone to get on with my life as I used to.’

‘We cannot put the clock back.’

‘More’s the pity,’ she riposted. ‘I rue the day I ever set foot in your office.’ She could, of course, walk out of here right now and leave him to face the consequences, but because she was human and sympathetic, and because it involved other people besides herself, she knew that she would not do it. She moved away from him, staring at the ground, deep in thought. She paced the whole perimeter of the courtyard—and ended up back at Luciano’s side.

‘Well?’ he asked impatiently.

Celena heaved a sigh. The decision had been made for her. Two button-bright eyes and a pair of gentle, gnarled hands had done their persuasion. ‘I’ll carry on the pretence,’ she said slowly.

The harsh angles of Luciano’s face relaxed, and he took her hands in his, ‘You won’t regret this, Celena.’

‘I already have,’ she told him coolly, snatching herself away, ignoring the tingle that ran through her. ‘I’m only doing it for your great-grandmother.’

‘As am I,’ he reminded her tersely.

They walked around the courtyard together, Celena admiring the delicate white blossoms of the quince, their petals resting gently on shiny green leaves, and the bright yellow lemons that she had never seen growing before, and, below them, the purple tips of lavender just coming into flower. It would have been a peaceful place had it not been for Luciano.

His presence deeply disturbed her. She was in a situation that was proving more and more difficult as time went by. What had begun as an exciting new job had ended in her promising to marry Luciano—at least in the eyes of his family!

Gabriella came out to find them. Like each of his siblings she had glossy dark hair and an olive skin, though her face was much plumper and rounder than her elder brother’s and she was nowhere near as tall. In fact she was quite dumpy. Nevertheless she had a warm and friendly personality and she looked at Celena now anxiously.

‘We are all worried about you, Celena. We talk so much; we feel it is our fault you have a headache. How are you feeling? Perhaps you ought to lie down. I will send Francesca with some pills.’

‘Please,’ said Celena at once, ‘it’s not your fault. We’ve done a lot of travelling today; it’s probably that.’

‘You must look after her, Luciano,’ Gabriella admonished him.

‘Indeed I intend to.’ He put his arm about Celena’s shoulders and pulled her to him. ‘She is the most important person in my life.’ With a tender smile he pressed a kiss to her brow—and there was nothing Celena could do about it.

‘And so she should be,’ retorted his sister. ‘We have waited a long time for you to find yourself a wife. He is so choosy,’ she said to Celena. ‘We have found him many girls over the years, but no, he is waiting for the right one. And now you are her. We all approve; I think you should know. We are looking forward to your engagement party tomorrow.’

Tomorrow! Another bombshell! Celena tried to tear herself away from Luciano but his arm tightened and she had to wait until Gabriella returned to the house before she could break free.

‘You didn’t tell me the party was tomorrow,’ she said accusingly. She was not even being given time to get used to the idea. ‘How long has it been arranged?’

‘About a month,’ he replied with a shrug. ‘Does it really matter?’

‘Of course it matters,’ she retorted. One month! Not long after she had accepted his job offer. Lord, what unique confidence the man had. And how could she have been so blind as not to suspect that something was going on? ‘How many will be coming to the engagement party?’ she asked coldly.

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