Annie and the Red-Hot Italian Page 6

  ‘Of course my father hasn’t hidden Oliver away.’ She snorted in disgust. ‘As you say, Oliver is my father’s only grandchild, and he absolutely adores him,’ she said.

  Luc nodded tersely. ‘So much so, it would seem, that Oliver very rarely leaves Balfour Manor.’

  ‘I’m the one responsible for that decision,’ she said agitatedly.

  ‘Why?’

  She made an impatient movement. ‘Because— Well, because—’

  ‘Yes?’

  How could Annie explain to this man—this hard, intractable man!—what it was like to be a Balfour? How almost from the cradle, it seemed, her every word and movement had been avidly followed by the paparazzi, to become front-page headlines in one tabloid or another? How much she had always hated it all? How she had decided from the beginning that she didn’t want any of that for Oliver?

  She sat down heavily. ‘He’s a little boy, Luc. A little boy who deserves to enjoy being a child rather than living the nightmare of publicity that has always dogged my own life.’

  ‘There are ways to avoid such publicity—’

  ‘Then I wish you would tell me what those ways are,’ Annie snapped.

  ‘Perhaps having less notorious sisters may have helped?’ Luc pointed out.

  Colour warmed her cheeks. ‘I’m not responsible for the behaviour of my sisters!’

  ‘No, you are only responsible for your own actions,’ he allowed. ‘So tell me, Anna Balfour, what do you think would recompense me for not even knowing of my son’s existence for the first three years and eight months of his life?’

  When he put it like that…

  There was no way Annie could make up to Luc for missing those first years and months of Oliver’s life. Nothing Annie could say, or do, that could ever bring that time back. It was already gone.

  ‘I had no idea who you were, so how was I supposed to tell you I was pregnant, let alone inform you of Oliver’s birth?’ Annie reasoned.

  Luc couldn’t deny the truth of that particular argument, knew that when they’d met before they had both been living only for the moment. Luc because he desperately wanted not to even think of the mess he had left behind him in Rome. Anna Balfour because— He had no idea what she had been running away from four and a half years ago…

  Although perhaps her remark about ‘the nightmare of publicity that has always dogged my own life’ went some way to answerning that question.

  None of which altered the fact that Oliver was almost four years old and had yet to even meet his father!

  Luc’s mouth thinned. ‘Did you even try to find out who I was? Once you learned of your pregnancy, did you go back to the ski resort and make the necessary enquiries to see if you could learn the identity of your lover?’

  Her gaze no longer met his. ‘No.’

  ‘Why not? You can’t tell me that with all the Balfour resources available to you, you couldn’t have done it,’ Luc pressed.

  Annie stood restlessly, her eyes blazing deeply blue as she glared down at him. ‘What would have been the point? We had a one-night stand, Luc,’ she expanded. ‘I can’t think of any man who would have been interested in learning that a child had resulted from such a brief relationship.’

  He scowled darkly. ‘You are looking at him. As I am now looking at Anna Balfour. Really looking,’ he added coldly. ‘And I do not very much like what I see.’

  Annie felt a sinking, sick sensation in her stomach. ‘Stop calling me Anna Balfour in that insultning tone!’

  Luc shrugged broad shoulders. ‘I have only just learnt it is your name.’

  ‘We both know that isn’t the reason you keep saying it in that distasteful way.’

  ‘Do we?’

  ‘Yes!’ Annie stared down at him in utter frustration. ‘I’m sorry, OK?’

  His mouth twisted derisively. ‘Sorry that we chanced to meet again and I discovered the truth perhaps?’

  ‘Yes. No!’ She gave an agitated shake of her head. ‘Maybe you’re right, and I should have tried to find out who you were four years ago. I just—I’m sorry you never knew of Oliver’s existence until today. I’m just sorry,’ she added shakily.

  Luc looked at her through narrowed lids, noting the shadows in those deep blue eyes, and the tears that glistened on the length of her dark lashes. Her face was deathly pale, and there was a slight tremble to those full and sensuous lips.

  Yes, she was indeed sorry for denying him knowledge of his son these past four years. She was going to be sorrier still…

  ‘Very well.’ Luc stood. ‘You are booked on a flight back to London on Monday mornning—‘

  ‘How did you know that?’ she gasped.

  ‘Because before coming here I made it my business to know.’

  Annie swallowed hard. ‘Why did you do that?’

  ‘The why is unimportant,’ Luc said dismissively. ‘You will cancel your seat on that flight—’

  ‘No, I—’

  ‘You will find that you and I will deal better together if you cease arguing with me over every little detail,’ he reproved.

  ‘My going back to England on Monday isn’t a “little detail",’ Annie insisted stubbornly. She needed to go home. Needed to be with Oliver. To take his sturdy little body in her arms and just hold on to him!

  ‘I do not remember saying you would not be returning to England. Did I say that?’

  Annie frowned her confusion. ‘Well… no. But—’

  ‘We will both be flying to England tomorrow, Anna,’ Luc informed her arrogantly.

  She moistened her lips nervously. ‘Tomorrow?’

  He nodded curtly. ‘I will make arrangements for the de Salvatore jet to transport us there in the morning. After which we will both go to Balfour Manor and you will introduce me to my son.’ His voice had hardened angrily.

  Annie’s mouth opened but no words came out. Luc couldn’t be serious about coming to Balfour Manor with her! Couldn’t expect her to just take him there and— ‘Introduce you to him as what?’ she asked warily.

  He was every inch the arrogant Luca deSalva tore as he looked down the length of his aristo cratic nose at her. ‘As his father, of course.’

  ‘I can’t do that, Luc,’ she protested. ‘Can’t you see that would only confuse him?’ she reasoned as Luc remained completely unmoved by that impassioned protest. ‘At the moment Oliver has no real concept of what it means to even have a father—’

  ‘And whose fault is that?’ Luc asked.

  ‘Mine,’ Annie allowed with a weary sigh. ‘But if you come back to England with me tomorrow, and I introduce you to Oliver as his father, then he’s just going to be confused when you have to leave him to return home a few days later.’

  Luc looked at her coldly. ‘I do not remember saying that I intended to leave him again.’

  ‘But of course you will!’ Annie exclaimed. ‘You live in Rome, and Oliver lives with me in England—’

  ‘Hmm.’

  Annie tensed. ‘Hmm, what?’

  ‘Hmm, I have reached a decision on my “price" for allowing you to keep Oliver with you,’ Luc informed her coolly.

  One look at the hardness of those merciless black eyes and the cruel twist to those sculptured lips and Annie knew she wasn’t going to like Luc’s ‘price’ at all!

  She swallowed hard. ‘Which is?’

  ‘The solution is obvious once you look at the situation logically.’

  ‘Logically?’ she echoed slowly.

  Luc gave an arrogant inclination of his head. ‘The only way that Oliver can both remain with you and know his father is if the two of us marry.’

  ‘If—? If the two of us—? If we—?’ Annie sat down again before she fell down!

  Surely Luca de Salvatore, a man usually so assured and coldly controlled, had gone slightly insane? Slightly?

  Luc had gone seriously insane if he thought for one moment that Annie would ever agree to marry him!

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘NO!’

 
; Luc raised dark brows. ‘No?’

  ‘No,’ she repeated firmly.

  Luc calmly returned the fierceness of her gaze. ‘No, the answer is not logical? Or no, you will not marry me?’

  ‘Both!’ she answered vehemently.

  Luc considered her with complete detachment. Anna Balfour was without doubt a very beautiful and self-assured young woman. She also now possessed the sort of slender elegance that ensured she would look good in anything. She even managed to look sexily attractive in faded jeans that fitted low on her hips, and a fitted white T-shirt that barely covered the flatness of her stomach!

  Yes, she was very beautiful. She also possessed an innate self-confidence that would ensure she felt comfortable in any company she happened to find herself in. The file Luc’s assistant had hastily compiled on her also revealed that, despite being six months pregnant at the time, she had completed and attained a degree in English, attestning to her determination as well as her intelligence.

  Despite all those positive attributes—and the physical attraction that had drawn him to her this morning—Anna Balfour was not the woman Luc would have chosen as his wife.

  Any more, it seemed, than Luc was the man she would have chosen as her husband!

  His mouth firmed. ‘A few minutes ago you promised to give me anything, Anna,’ he reminded her.

  ‘If you would let me continue to bring Oliver up in England,’ she pointed out.

  He looked at her scathingly. ‘We both know that is not going to happen.’

  ‘I—’ Annie broke off impatiently, having no doubts now; Luc really had gone insane! ‘Marriage is a little drastic, don’t you think?’ She raised incredulous eyebrows.

  ‘You have another, less drastic, solution to this problem perhaps?’ he prompted coolly.

  It was that very coldness that unnerved Annie the most. If Luc’s anger had been hot and accusing she could maybe have tried reasonning with him. As it was, his very calmness, that stillness of the predator he had so reminded her of earlier, told her that he was perfectly serious about his preposterous proposal.

  She sighed. ‘I’m only twenty-four years old, Luc, and I have no intention of marrying any man for the sake of convenience.’

  ‘I do not find the idea of a marriage between the two of us in the least convenient either,’ he admitted. ‘Then—’

  ‘Are you willing to give up our son to me?’ he asked.

  Annie gasped. ‘No, of course not!’

  Luc gave an unconcerned shrug. ‘Then the matter is settled. Once in England I will see to the necessary arrangements for our marriage—’

  ‘The matter is most certainly not settled,’ Annie interrupted as she once again stood. ‘I’m not marrying you, Luc,’ she repeated stubbornly. ‘And I can’t believe that you would want to sully the de Salvatore name by marrying one of the notorious Balfour sisters either!’

  ‘It would not have been my first choice, no,’ Luc acknowledged wryly.

  ‘Or your last!’ Annie guessed easily.

  ‘It is my last,’ he drawled. ‘And I have no doubt that such a marriage will prove to have some compensations,’ he added.

  Annie felt the warm colour enter her cheeks at his deliberately provocative tone. ‘I’m not marrying any man, let alone sharing his bed, when I’m not in love with him,’ she insisted.

  Luc’s gaze narrowed as he heard the vehement determination in her tone. Every inch of her was tensed as if for a fight. From the fiery lights in that thick chestnut-coloured hair, and the tension in her body, to the bareness of her toes now curled into the carpet as if ready to spring into action if necessary.

  She really was very beautiful.

  A beautiful woman possessed of an inner fire that had already succeeded in melting Luc’s own coolness more than once.

  Even now Luc felt a stirring, a hardening, of his thighs as he recalled their time together earlier today, of the way she had been prepared to fight him then too. Before passion had replaced her anger…

  ‘You did not seem to find the idea of sharing my bed so distasteful this afternoon,’ he pointed out as he allowed his gaze to deliberately move down to the firm thrust of her breasts. Breasts that were full and pouting, and obviously unconfined beneath that fitted T-shirt, the tips becoming engorged with arousal even as Luc looked at them.

  Annie resisted the urge to cross her arms over that betraying hardening of her nipples. What was it about this man in particular that made her respond this way? Whatever it was, Annie couldn’t allow it—wouldn’t allow it!—to affect her resolve not to give in to Luc’s demands.

  She shook her head. ‘A marriage that isn’t based on love will ultimately fail. One or both of us is sure to one day meet someone we can love, and then we would have to go through the messy process of a divorce.’

  Luc raised dark brows. ‘You speak as if from experience…’

  Had she?

  Yes, of course she had!

  Annie’s mother and father had only married each other because Oscar had been left with three very young daughters following the death of his first wife. Tilly, as nanny to those three little girls, had been the obvious choice to become Oscar’s second wife. And because Tilly liked and respected Oscar, and already loved his three young daughters to distraction, she had accepted his marriage proposal. Only to then meet Victor, the man she had fallen instantly in love with, four years and three daughters of her own later.

  The fact that Tilly and Oscar’s separation and divorce had been amicable, that they remained close friends, hadn’t made the experience of having parents who were divorced any less traumatic for Annie.

  Strangely, Annie had never admitted that before, even to herself.

  She was only doing so now because she had no intention of putting Oliver through that same heartbreak!

  ‘The break-up of your own parents’ marriage might have something to do with that?’ Luc guessed with that shrewdness that could be so unnerving.

  Everything about this man was unnerving, Annie acknowledged frustratedly. From the cold chill of his ruthlessness, to the way that just looking at him made her heart beat faster and her breath catch in her throat!

  The fact that, in spite of everything, she was still physically attracted to Luc was no basis for a marriage between them either, she told herself firmly.

  ‘Being at the centre of a divorce, even an amicable one, is never good for the children,’ she said bluntly.

  ‘Then it is as well that my family does not believe in divorce,’ Luc said.

  ‘I don’t believe in marriages of convenience either.’ Annie stubbornly stood her ground. ‘That results in a stalemate, I believe, Luc!’

  Her father, following the scandal that had occurred at the 100th Balfour Charity Ball, had lectured all of his daughters on the necessity of restoring some pride and dignity back into the Balfour name. In an effort to instil his determination into his more rebellious daughters, he had dragged out an ancient family manuscript outlining the code of honour by which the Balfours had once lived. Antiquated that code may have been, but one of them had remained fixed in Annie’s mind ever since: A Balfour should be fright ened of nothing. Face your fears with courage and they will lead to further self-discovery.

  Meeting Oliver’s father again had always been Annie’s biggest fear!

  An occurrence that had already led her to one piece of surprising self-discovery—she had never before realised how much she had been affected by the heartache of growing up with parents who were divorced…

  But she realised it now, and that realisation made her more determined than ever that Oliver’s childhood would not be blighted by his parents suffering the same fate.

  ‘Perhaps,’ Luc answered her softly now.

  Despite her own resolve, Annie wasn’t sure she particularly cared for that determined glint in Luc’s coal-black eyes. She liked it evenless when that dark gaze again moved slowly over the curves of her body to once again create a tingling in her breasts and that rush of
heat between her thighs.

  A heat that suffused all of Annie’s body, making her skin ultra sensitive, and her close-fitting jeans and T-shirt suddenly feel uncomfortably tight…

  She gave a self-disgusted sigh at this response to just having Luc’s gaze upon her body. ‘I need to go outside for some air,’ she announced. She didn’t wait for Luc’s response but turned on her heel to move across the room, opening the door to the balcony and stepping outside to breathe in the fresh, clean—sobering!—air.

  Luc remained unmoving for several seconds after she had gone outside.

  He had no doubts that she meant it when she said she wouldn’t marry him. Luc’s own resolve that such a marriage would take place was also unshakeable. Oliver Balfour was his son, and Anna Balfour was the mother of that son. There was no question, absolutely no doubt in Luc’s mind, that she would become his wife.

  Luc stepped outside to cross the balcony to where she stood against the balustrade looking out at the evening beauty of Lake Garda. Or giving the appearance of looking across Lake Garda; the defensive stiffening of her shoulders told him that she was completely aware of him standing directly behind her.

  Because she feared him?

  Or was her tension for another reason completely?

  Luc stepped forward, his body mere centimetres away from hers as his hands moved either side of her to rest lightly on the balustrade and hold her trapped within his encircling arms. ‘Your hair smells of flowers and sunshine,’ he murmured as he breathed in her heady perfume—flowers, sunshine and an underlying musk of sensuality.

  Her throat moved convulsively before she answered him. ‘I think you’ll find that it’s the flowers in the bowers hanging off the balcony that you can smell.’

  Luc laughed softly. ‘Allow me a little poetic licence.’

  Every part of Annie was tinglingly aware of every part of Luc. The warmth of his breath against her exposed throat. The powerful heat of his body as he stepped even closer. The hardness of his arousal as it pressed intimately against her bottom…

  ‘What are you doing, Luc?’ she breathed huskily even as her throat arched and she felt the warm rasp of his tongue against the heat of her skin.