The Undoing Of De Luca. Кейт Хьюит

a beautiful marble fireplace and long sash windows. It was a stately, elegant room, and if he tried he could almost see it as it had once been, grand and imposing, despite the faded carpets and moth-eaten upholstery, the peeling gilt and wide crack in the marble surround of the fireplace.

      He thought he could hear Amelie upstairs rather forcefully throwing her things back into her suitcase. She had been less than pleased to be summarily dismissed from the manor.

      Larenz had caught her coming out of her bedroom—she looked as if she’d had a better night’s sleep than he had—and said with a little smile, ‘I’ve been thinking about your idea of using the manor as the location for Marina’s fashion shoot. It’s a good one.’

      Amelie’s lipsticked mouth curved into a satisfied smile. ‘I knew you would.’

      ‘And,’ Larenz added in an implacable tone, ‘I need you to head back to the office this morning to start the paperwork. I’ll deal with Ellery.’

      ‘Ellery, is it?’ Amelie noted, her eyes narrowing. She forced a smile. ‘Well, I for one will be glad to see the last of this hovel for a little while at least.’ Larenz felt only relief as he headed downstairs.

      Now, wandering restlessly through the drawing room, Larenz thought of how Ellery had whirled around when he’d come into the kitchen that morning, surprised and jumpy and aware, and he smiled, all thoughts of Amelie wiped clean away. This weekend was going to be very interesting and, he had no doubt, very pleasurable, as well.

      Ellery placed the scrambled eggs, fried mushrooms, bacon, stewed tomato and a heap of baked beans on a plate, grabbed the rack of toast and a bottle of ketchup with her free hand, and made her way into the dining room.

      Somewhere in the distance a door slammed and Ellery winced at the sound of a car starting, along with the telltale spray of gravel. More ruts in the road.

      ‘That would be Amelie leaving,’ Larenz said pleasantly. He stepped from the shadows of the dining room where he’d been standing. Hiding, more like, Ellery thought. At least this time she didn’t jump.

      ‘In a hurry, is she?’ she asked dryly. She ignored the sudden pounding of her heart and the fact that her mind—and body—were very aware that she and Larenz de Luca were now alone. She placed the food on the table and turned around to fetch the coffee. ‘I’ll be right back.’

      ‘You are getting a plate for yourself, I hope?’ Larenz enquired. A frisson of feeling—could it possibly be hope—shivered through Ellery. She stiffened, her back to him. ‘I prefer not to eat alone,’ Larenz clarified, a hint of laughter in his voice.

      ‘I eat in the kitchen,’ she said without turning around.

      ‘Then allow me to join you.’

      She heard Larenz reach for his plate, the clank of cutlery as he scooped up his dishes, quite prepared to follow her into the kitchen. Slowly Ellery turned around. ‘What exactly do you want from me, Mr de Luca?’

      ‘Is friendliness not part of the weekend special?’ he asked lightly. He didn’t answer her question.

      ‘I like to be friendly and professional,’ she replied curtly.

      ‘As a matter of fact, this is professional,’ Larenz returned. ‘I have a business proposition to put to you.’

      Ellery didn’t bother hiding her disbelief. The idea of this wealthy man having anything to do with her or Maddock Manor was utterly absurd. ‘You can’t be serious—’

      Larenz gave her a playful, mocking smile. ‘Is that your reaction to most business propositions?’

      She gritted her teeth. She’d been doing that quite a bit since Larenz de Luca and his lover had arrived—although now she was gone, no doubt dismissed by Larenz. He’d discarded one woman—and why? To move on to another?

      To move on to her?

      Ellery pushed the alarming—and tempting—possibility away. Surely there had to be another reason for his continued presence. He was far too wealthy to enjoy staying in a place like Maddock Manor; he was clearly used to five-star hotels with matching service. Amelie had told her as much yesterday, and everything Ellery had noticed about Larenz de Luca confirmed this opinion, from the navy-blue Lexus he’d driven up in last night to the way he stood there, arrogantly relaxed in his supposed Saturday slumming clothes. He was, Ellery noticed, wearing buttery-soft loafers of Italian leather that had to have cost several hundred pounds at least. The man reeked of power and privilege.

      Maddock Manor was way, way beneath him. She was way, way beneath him. And yet he stayed?

      It made her nervous, anxious and even a little bit afraid.

      ‘You’re clearly a very wealthy, important person,’ she finally said with frank honesty. ‘I can’t imagine any business proposition of yours that would involve me or Maddock—’

      ‘Then you’re wrong,’ Larenz said softly. ‘And my breakfast is getting cold.’ He lifted the plate once more. ‘Shall we?’

      Ellery capitulated. She realized she had little choice, for Larenz was clearly the kind of man who was used to getting his own way. And she was tired of fighting; she was exhausted already. After breakfast she’d fob him off with the list of errands she had to do. She couldn’t quite see him tagging along while she dug for the last potatoes or raked over the gravel that Amelie had sprayed everywhere.

      ‘Fine,’ she said curtly and then, because it was obvious he had no intention of being an ordinary guest, she threw over her shoulder, ‘we can eat in the kitchen.’

      Ellery fixed herself a plate of eggs and mushrooms while Larenz took a seat at the big scrubbed pine table. He popped a mushroom into his mouth and surveyed the huge room with its original fireplace big enough to roast an ox and the bank of windows letting in the pale morning sunshine.

      ‘I’d say this was quite cosy,’ he murmured, ‘except this table could seat a round dozen. And I imagine it once did, in this house’s heyday.’ He smiled, raising his eyebrows. ‘When was that?’

      Ellery stiffened. ‘The house’s heyday?’ she repeated and then, to her surprise and dismay, she sighed, the sound all too wistful and revealing. ‘Probably some time in the seventeenth century. I think the Dunants were originally Puritans in good standing with Cromwell.’

      ‘And did they lose it all in the Restoration?’

      Ellery shrugged. ‘I don’t think so. They changed sides a dozen times or more.’ She reached for two heavy china mugs and poured coffee. ‘The Dunants aren’t particularly known for being faithful.’ Too late she heard the spite and bitterness in her voice and closed her eyes, hoping Larenz hadn’t heard it, too. Yet, even without turning around, she knew he had; he was far too perceptive for his own good—or hers.

      ‘Here.’ She placed a mug of coffee in front of him on the table and then walked around to her own seat, all the way on the other end of the table. It looked a little ridiculous for them to be sitting so far apart but Ellery didn’t care. She wasn’t about to give Larenz any excuse to touch her.

       Even if you want him to…

      Ellery just barely kept from closing her eyes again. It was a good thing Larenz de Luca wasn’t capable of mind reading—except when she looked at him and saw that faint knowing smile on his face she felt as if he was.

      ‘Thank you,’ he murmured and took a sip of coffee. Ellery began to eat her eggs with grim determination. She didn’t want to talk to Larenz, didn’t want him to flirt or tease or tempt her. Yet, even as these thoughts flitted through her mind and her eggs turned rubbery and tasteless in her mouth, Ellery knew she was already tempted. Badly. She thought of how Larenz’s flutter of fingers on her wrist, skin sliding on skin, had jolted her, an electric current wired directly to her soul.

      Except, Ellery thought as she speared a mushroom, souls had nothing to do with it; the temptation she felt for Larenz