An Invitation to Sin(15)

‘Talking of my brother, I don’t suppose anyone has heard from him since he ran off with the bride?’ Shaking with laughter, Luca checked his phone for messages while Jeannie gave a despairing shake of her head.

‘It isn’t funny! What about poor Alessandro?’

‘“Poor” Alessandro had a narrow escape. He’s been saved from a miserable marriage followed by an expensive divorce. He should be celebrating his good fortune.’

‘You don’t really think that.’

‘I try to think about marriage as little as possible.’

‘Your parents were married for years.’

Luca stilled. If there was one thing worse than thinking of marriage in general then it was thinking of his parents’ marriage. ‘Did I miss the memo about introducing boring topics into office conversation?’

‘Sorry.’ Jeannie flushed. ‘But where do you think Matteo is?’

Luca shrugged. ‘Holed up somewhere enjoying wild honeymoon sex with his cousin’s almost-bride, I suppose, which makes it all the more galling that the board are proving so intransigent. They need a Corretti to run the company in his absence to stop that snake Angelo getting his claws on the company. They should be embracing me.’

‘Judging from the pictures of you and Taylor Carmichael, they probably think there’s been more than enough embracing.’

Taylor Carmichael.

He could still feel the silk of her hair against his fingers and the soft slide of her tongue against his mouth. In those few moments before she’d pushed him away, they’d created enough heat and energy to power a small country. The blaze of sexual chemistry had shocked him as much as her, the only difference was that he hadn’t wanted to fight it.

Before he could respond to Jeannie, the phone on his desk rang and she leaned across to answer it.

‘Signor Corretti’s office—no, he is currently out of the office….Which rumour?’ She paused, her calm professionalism visibly disintegrating as she listened to the person on the other end of the phone. She lifted shocked eyes to Luca. ‘No, I don’t have any comment to make….Yes, I’ll tell him you rang.’ Her hand shook as she replaced the phone and it immediately rang again. Luca clamped his hand over hers as she reached for it.

‘Leave it—it’s just the press wanting more details on that kiss. Don’t feed the frenzy.’

‘They didn’t want details of the kiss.’ Jeannie looked at him nervously. ‘You’re not the sort of guy who would shoot the messenger, are you?’

His radar for trouble on full alert, Luca released her hand and leaned back in his chair. ‘That,’ he drawled slowly, ‘depends on the message.’

She swallowed hard. ‘They want to know when you’ll release a statement on your engagement.’

‘I’m sure when he said that no one was to disturb him, he didn’t mean me.’ Taylor shot a dazzling smile at the security guard who was left blinded.

‘Well, er, he hasn’t mentioned you as such, Miss Carmichael—’

‘Of course he hasn’t. We agreed not to speak about each other.’ She stepped closer and lowered her eyelashes just enough to ensure he wouldn’t be able to think about anything but her all day. ‘If he talked about me, our relationship wouldn’t be a secret, would it?’

‘I suppose not.’ Sweating, he slid a finger around his collar. ‘Knowing Mr Corretti, I’m sure he’ll be only too pleased to see a beautiful woman walking into his office.’

‘Good.’ Striding into the express elevator before he could change his mind, Taylor hit a button and closed the doors. Safely inside, she switched off her megawatt smile and checked her reflection in the mirror.

She was going to kill the bastard.

First she was going to rip his elegant suit from his perfect body and then she was going to injure him in places that would ensure he’d remember her for ever.

It had proved difficult to persuade Santo to give her a few hours off from filming, but in the end he’d decided that they’d be more productive if they dealt with the media first.

Taylor hadn’t revealed that the only person she was going to be ‘dealing with’ was Luca.

The doors opened and Taylor stepped out into a contemporary office space like no other she’d seen. The walls were lined with photographs. Famous models in various poses pouted at her, their razor-sharp cheekbones accentuated by the powerful beam of sunlight pouring from an atrium above. It was a shrine to beauty and elegance.