CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER ONE
T HE SILVER FOUNTAIN pen landed with a muffled thud as yet another email pinged on Charlotte Kim’s computer. She swivelled in her chair to skim through the mail deciding it wasn’t worth attending to immediately and flagged it for later. Picking her pen back up, she caught a whiff of a woodsy cologne. The same warning she received every morning before Enzo De Luca turned the corner and filled the very large and sleekly modern penthouse office with his presence. Somehow, he always made it seem smaller. Tall and broad with thick dark hair, cold green eyes and perfectly trimmed stubble, he was every bit as intimidating as his reputation suggested.
‘Celeste,’ he greeted in his deep voice still rich with an Italian accent, despite years of living in Australia, that made her heart beat a little faster every time she heard it.
‘Good morning, Mr De Luca,’ she replied despite the pang of discomfort she always felt at hearing that name. ‘I will be through with your schedule shortly.’
He nodded once before disappearing through his office door.
She closed her eyes and imagined that he had said her real name in that voice. That he bathed her in his smile. It was so rare, but he would give it freely to her because he knew her. She opened her eyes and sighed at the ridiculousness of that dream. She shouldn’t allow herself to think like that about her boss. He could fire her—or destroy her without even realising it. But as long as it remained a thought, never acted upon, she was safe.
Charlotte locked her computer, picked up her tablet and made for the private C-suite kitchen. There she prepared Enzo’s espresso just as he liked it. While the machine buzzed and whirred as it filled the cup, she looked out the floor-to-ceiling window at Sydney spread out below.
It had been two years since she had moved here from Perth. Two years that she had been working for Enzo at De Luca and Co. and not once in that time had she ever felt herself relax. She couldn’t. She was always so tense that she just learned to live with a constant ache in her shoulders. In her gut.
Charlotte had come to this city as Celeste. All the time she had been here, she had been extremely careful to maintain the image of the highly efficient PA with little personality other than being a workaholic.
She couldn’t explore the city she now lived in because she was always scouting the area for threats. Anywhere she went had the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. The only place she felt at all safe was in the office and in her home. But even then, she was ever vigilant.
A sharp twinge of pain in her stomach brought her attention back to the kitchen. She pulled the small cup out from under the portafilter and, reaching for a saucer, caught a glimpse of her reflection. Of the grey shift dress that was neither loose nor fitting, so unlike the bright, exquisitely tailored high-end clothes that she had once worn. Of her black hair hanging limply around her shoulders, not even slightly reminiscent of the perfectly styled tresses of her past. Of her plain black shoes with the smallest of heels that made her miss the closet full of designer shoes she’d left behind. And finally, the black glasses on the bridge of her nose that she didn’t need, which diverted attention away from her nearly black, angular eyes.
Plain. She was utterly, heartbreakingly plain. But if she were to remain safe, that was exactly what she needed to be. It wasn’t safe to stand out. Not to anyone. Definitely not to Enzo. The old Charlotte would have spoken to him. Flirted harmlessly with him. Maybe even befriended him. But now, she had to be invisible to him.
If beige was a person, Charlotte, it would be you.
She hadn’t even been with a man intimately. Her virginity was beginning to be a point of frustration, but remaining hidden meant never being able to date. Being with a man was too risky if she was trying to hide. Who could she trust?
With a sigh, she ignored her thoughts and took the tablet and espresso to Enzo’s office, only stopping at her desk briefly to swallow an antacid. As she placed the coffee beside his computer, she admired the view of Circular Quay as she did every morning, gazing longingly at the water.
‘Ah, my coffee. Grazie ,’ he said. ‘My usual blend?’
It wouldn’t be a day if you didn’t make me state the obvious, Enzo , she thought to herself.
‘Brewed as you like it, sir.’ It took a great deal of self-control not to emphasise the sir . Now was not the time for attitude.
‘Seven grams?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Good Lord, did he make it hard to keep the attitude at bay, though!
‘Eight bars of pressure?’
She was going to strangle him. If she didn’t know him better, she would say he did it to mess with her. ‘Of course, Mr De Luca.’ Could the man not let go for two minutes just to enjoy a cup of coffee, for heaven’s sakes? He should just do it for himself. Damn control freak! Words she would never say aloud. Instead, she ran through Enzo’s schedule with him.
‘That leaves us with your eleven a.m. They insist on meeting with you so I pencilled them in. However, I believe you’ve mentioned before that they don’t need to meet with you specifically.’ Charlotte was well aware that Enzo had mentioned nothing of the sort. They were simply a company wanting to attract investors and, in her opinion, not bringing much to the table. But in a bid to remain as inconspicuous as possible, she often made her judgement calls seem like they had come from Enzo. That way if he thought back on it later, he could easily forget her part in it.
Enzo was a fiercely private and notoriously headstrong businessman, and with De Luca and Co. having recently celebrated its bicentennial, she could understand why he had to be. It was no small thing to own a multinational of its size with the legacy it held. The only reason he listened to her at all was also the only reason she had landed this job: because of her impressive education. It was the only thing she hadn’t lied about in her application.
‘You’re right. I don’t have time to deal with them. Get someone else on it.’
‘Yes, Mr De Luca.’
‘Close the door on your way out.’
She was almost out of his office when he called out to her.
‘Oh, and Celeste?’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘The coffee is good,’ he said with a barely there smile. And that was why she didn’t strangle him. Today. Tomorrow? Who knew.
Charlotte smiled and closed the door wishing again that just once he would call her by her real name. However much his need for control might frustrate her, it was hard to be in his orbit and not get pulled in. By his brilliance and his intellect. That unflappable calm that he seemed to radiate to all in his presence as if it was his superpower. And those cold green eyes that she knew observed more than anyone really understood.
Still, the biggest part of her relished the distance she had with Enzo. He didn’t know her real name; he didn’t know much about her at all. In fact, if she was replaced by a robot, she doubted he would notice very much. That granted some safety. Not enough that the feeling of anxiety in the pit of her stomach ever went away, though.
She sat down at her desk and looked out the glass panes at the sprawling city. It was big, but nowhere was big enough if she wasn’t careful.
She’d taken this job to hide. If anyone knew who she was, then she would have to disappear and start again in yet another place. She didn’t want to have to do that. It was impossible to know who might have connections to her old life. She had come from a wealthy family. A family with far-reaching connections. She couldn’t risk her freedom just for a Good job, Charlotte , no matter how much she craved validation from Enzo. She couldn’t trust him with her real name. That would be beyond foolish. And he certainly wouldn’t trust her if he ever found out she had been lying to him. Who knew how badly he would react?
She told herself didn’t matter: it was still her work. Her intelligence that was appreciated, regardless of what anyone called her.
Pulling up her email programme, Charlotte got busy moving Enzo’s meeting and dealing with everything she had flagged. She really did enjoy working at De Luca and Co. Here, she was as close to the top as she could ever allow herself to get without attracting attention. And then there was Enzo. Yes, he was arrogant, but she had to admit his integrity was admirable. He used his power to help others, even though he kept his altruism a secret. She only knew because she was his PA. He was good to his employees. She would know: she had seen how a lesser man treated his.
There was no way in hell she would do anything that risked making her face her father again.
The door clicked shut, and Enzo sipped from his cup, savouring the hot coffee while his emails streamed steadily into his inbox. Celeste had outdone herself—though, he probably had that exact thought most mornings. She was by far the most efficient PA he had ever had and so far had lasted longer than any other. She didn’t just rise to meet his standards, she did so with calm professionalism. He was thankful for whatever circumstance brought her to him. He might even consider giving her a substantial performance bonus this year.
He took a deep breath. This was usually his only quiet moment of the day, one in which he took great pleasure. An impeccably made espresso and a gander at his emails, and he’d be ready to take on the hundred different things requiring his attention.
Enzo was proud of his routine, his discipline. As the head of one of the largest and oldest financial companies in the world, discipline was a trait he needed. Not to mention as the head of one of the oldest families in Calabria. He tried not to think of that—of what his family had become—but it was hard. Especially when one email in particular caught his eye.
It had come from the lawyers regarding his mother’s will. Whatever they had to say, it couldn’t be good. Dread settled in Enzo’s belly. Just like that, he was thrown back to the day they buried her, six months ago. To the grief and anger. To her coffin sitting on his shoulders making him want to lash out. To the boulder on his chest whenever he thought about the fact that he hadn’t been home in over two years before that, despite knowing how sick and frail she had become. He couldn’t return. Not when all he could think about there was his fiancée, Gia, who had slept with his brother—a man he should have been able to trust above all others—in his family home. The pain of that betrayal had never dulled. It had broken him. Destroyed his ability to trust anyone again.
Enzo pulled at his tie which had begun to feel as tight as a noose around his neck. But as always, he had to hide his feelings. An issue had obviously come up, and feelings would help nothing. They would only cloud his judgement and make him react recklessly. But it wasn’t easy to push them aside. Not when he was so angry. Angry at the world for his mother’s death. Angry at himself for not being there. Angry at Emilio—with whom he had always had a fractious relationship—for tainting his home.
He swallowed what little was left in his cup and forced himself to calm down.
His mother’s estate had been relatively easy to settle, especially when everything she had—save the vineyards—had been left to his brother. Valentina De Luca had come from a vastly wealthy family herself. Her fortune and properties, not to mention the charity she’d founded, had all become Emilio’s for the simple reason that Enzo was the Conte del Perlano, a title he’d inherited from his father along with the vast De Luca estate. Everything that had been amassed over centuries belonged to Enzo, including the centuries-old financial and banking company, and the winery. So when he had found out that there was very little in Valentina’s will that concerned him, he didn’t much care. The vineyards were all he’d expected, and he already had enough on his plate. It all made little difference to the bond they’d shared. So to hear from the family lawyer now unsettled him.
Gritting his teeth, Enzo opened the email. His hands curled into fists as he read. Whatever grief he had momentarily felt was burned away by the anger that had fully taken hold of him. Cursing his brother’s name, Enzo’s shoulders tensed with every word.
...is in possession of a second will that bequeaths the De Luca vineyards to Emilio De Luca...
Enzo trembled with the force of his rage. No longer able to contain his ire, he threw back his chair and, grabbing fistfuls of his hair, marched to the window. He tried to take a breath, but it was no help. If anything, like a bellows, it fanned the flames of his fury.
Emilio wanted to take his vineyards. It shouldn’t have surprised him. He often wanted what was Enzo’s—and their mother had always swooped in and placated Emilio. Convinced Enzo with love and hugs to share what he had or give it up entirely to his little brother. And Enzo would, because he was the oldest, the firstborn. It was his job to look out for everyone.
But not any more. Not since Gia.
‘A second will!’ Enzo spat at no one. They all knew that his father had gifted the vineyards to his mother because she had loved them so much, but the condition had always been explicit. She had to leave them to Enzo, the next Conte del Perlano. That was exactly what the lawyers initially said she had done. So why would she make a second will leaving them to Emilio?
Those vineyards were Enzo’s. He alone was the conte. He alone was responsible for hundreds of years of history. Legacy. And now he was responsible for every single person those vineyards provided with a livelihood.
‘Why, Gia?’
‘I wanted your brother. I’ve always wanted him. The only reason anyone would choose you over him is for what you have, Enzo. No one wants to come second or third or fourth to your duty.’
Gia’s hurtful words came back to haunt him. As head of the De Luca family, it was his duty to take care of not just the vineyards but the entire estate. The family name and fortune. Just as his father had. Just as his father had taught him to do.
Enzo’s heart constricted painfully as he thought of the memories he treasured. All the years he spent at his father’s side. From an early age, he had been taken on business trips and sat in on meetings, learning about everything his father did. Everything Enzo would one day have to do.
Well, one day had come, and Hell would freeze over before he gave up that responsibility. He didn’t want to, but he would go back to Perlano, do whatever it took to prove once and for all that it was all his. That the second will was some sort of lie.
His presence was a necessity because he trusted only himself to handle this situation correctly and permanently.
With far more irritation in his voice than he would have liked to show, he marched over to his desk and called his PA.
‘Celeste, in here. Now.’ He didn’t sit. He was far too agitated. What he wanted to do was punch something. The very muscle in his arms vibrated with the need to act.
Within seconds Celeste was walking into his office with her trusty tablet in hand.
‘What can I do for you, Mr De Luca?’
‘We will be leaving for Italy.’ His voice was barely more than a growl. ‘Something has come up at the vineyards that I need to deal with urgently. We’ll be taking the jet. Make the arrangements. Clear my calendar for the next week.’
‘Will do. Shall I arrange for the usual accommodation?’
‘No, just make sure that my car is waiting for me at Lamezia. I will deal with the accommodation.’
‘Yes, sir. I can arrange for a driver to give you time t—’
‘No. I told you only to ensure that my car is there. I will drive.’ Enzo had only ever been driven in Perlano once, and that was when he left six months ago. He trusted no one but himself to tackle those winding roads. He didn’t need time to prepare. He would get them to the estate faster than any driver and then sort this mess out himself.
‘Understood.’
‘See to it that everything is ready in an hour. I will have no delays.’ His tone was brusque, and he saw a wince cross Celeste’s face.
‘Yes, sir.’ Enzo watched her leave his office.
Dio mio! He had to calm down. While he was thankful that Celeste was so unquestioningly efficient, Enzo didn’t talk to his employees like that. It hadn’t even occurred to him until now that Celeste might need more than hour to get herself ready to fly. As his PA she should be ready to go with him at the drop of a hat when the need arose, but he was behaving like a brute. It was unacceptable and not the kind of behaviour that earned him the loyalty he had with his employees. He couldn’t lash out at everyone when only Emilio deserved his ire.
He wasn’t acting like himself, and it was because he knew how hard it would be to see his home again, even if his brother wasn’t there. Perlano ripped open his scars. He didn’t know how to prepare himself for that.