Powerful Persuasion. Margaret Mayo

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