Chapter Two #3
Hannah flushed and took a step back. She crossed her arms, looking very much as if she was gathering herself. He took that as a compliment, for that would not be required if she wasn’t as off balanced by this he was.
Not that he intended to let her know that.
“I suppose none of this matters,” she said after what felt like a very, very long moment.
“You didn’t expect to see me, nor I you.
But the fact remains, we will need to work together.
” She inclined her head. “I understand that the hotel is now yours. And as certainly as there can only be one La Paloma, things will surely change under your leadership. I hope you find me flexible, committed, and excited to dig in.”
It was that armor again, Antonluca thought. He did not care for it.
But by the same token, her head was clearly cooler than his. Or she was better at pretending. He reminded himself, as he always did in business situations, that he had the upper hand.
Because most people in business did not come from backgrounds like his.
He had read Hannah’s résumé when he’d flown back from Japan and he never forgot the things he read.
He knew that she’d had a pleasantly middle-class life, had gone to university, and while she might not have grown up as privileged as some, she had certainly had advantages that he had not.
It was a superpower, he sometimes thought. He saw through people in ways that others couldn’t, because his very survival—and that of his siblings—had depended on him being able to read people in an instant.
It was one of the reasons the magnificent Paloma herself liked him so much. He always told the truth, like it or not.
“Do you believe that we can have an appropriate working relationship?” he asked her, drawing his own armor close.
She frowned at him. “I have never had anything but appropriate working relationships before. I don’t think that I have a problem.”
“You were just kissing me as if your life depended upon it.”
She frowned harder, but there was that color on her cheeks, and it deepened. “I think you’re confusing you for me.”
“The truth is that I’m not a Puritan in the way you Americans tend to be,” he told her, and shrugged in a way he knew was deeply Italian. “I do not necessarily feel the need to divorce the personal from other parts of my life.”
“Why are you talking about this as if we were planning an affair?” she asked, her eyes narrowing—but again, the color on her cheeks told a different tale.
“We have a Christmas Jubilee to put on. We have to convince some of the wealthiest, most jaded people on the planet to believe in wonder. To feel at peace. To surrender to an idea of Christmas when they could literally go anywhere or do anything else.”
That hit him harder than it should have. It made him almost wish—
But he shoved that aside.
“I’m not sure I’m being the unrealistic one in this scenario,” he said instead, darker than he’d intended. “I have already had you fired from one job, Hannah. What makes you think that this one will go more smoothly?”
“The village is very small,” she retorted. “Not a lot of paparazzi hanging about. Somehow I think I’ll manage to keep my disparaging remarks to myself.”
He only studied her, taking stock of the things that were happening inside of him. The way his heart was beating too fast. The way his body was reacting to being in her presence. The heavy ache in his cock, the taste of her in his mouth.
This was all a terrible idea.
But then, he had already thought it was a bad idea when Paloma had approached him and he’d had no idea that Hannah was involved. Here he was anyway.
You have the opportunity to belong to something, the old woman had said. Instead of simply wasting into nothing in this privacy of yours, hermetically sealed away from the rest of the world.
I like being alone, he had replied.
If that were true, my dear boy, Paloma had said with a laugh, you would be happy.
And Antonluca had told her in no uncertain terms that he had never been happier in his life. But he understood now, standing in this library, that he had lied.
He hadn’t meant to. But now, with Hannah here before him, he understood that there was a difference between living as he had been and feeling alive, which was how he felt in her presence.
Like it or not.
He wanted to put his hands on her. He wanted to pull her into his arms again, and kiss her senseless.
He wanted that to only be the beginning.
But perhaps there was something to be said for enjoying these feelings.
They were so new. So different. They reminded him of how he’d felt years ago when he’d first started creating his poetry with food, creating dishes out of dreams, and feeling so connected to the particular joy of the meal well-made.
He hadn’t believed that he would ever feel that way again.
Antonluca did not pull her into his arms. Instead, he crossed over to the table in the center of the library floor, pulled out a chair, and sat down. She looked at him warily as he waved his hand at the seat opposite his.
“I’m certain we will find a way to work together, Hannah,” he said. “After all, you have already proven that we can get along beautifully when you please. Why should this be any different? Let Christmas bells ring.”
And he waited, not certain what she would do, as she stood there frowning at him.
But when she came over to the table and sat down with him, he allowed himself a smile.