The Secret The Italian Claims. Jennie Lucas

ever, ever want to sleep with him again. Ever.

      Putting her hands on her hips, she tried to hide her nervousness as she waited.

      His bodyguard tried to smooth his way, holding out his arm. “Excuse us, miss.”

      Then, from behind him, Cristiano’s eyes caught hers.

      For a split second, he went completely still. Then his jaw tightened. “It’s all right, Luther.” He came forward. “What are you doing here, Hallie?”

      He remembered her name. She was almost surprised. She hated the shiver that went through her at having him so close, towering over her in his tuxedo, nearly touching her. His dark gaze seared through her. She found herself wanting to blurt out everything, to tell him not just that she’d had his baby but that he’d broken her heart.

      She forced herself to say, “I need to talk to you. In private.”

      His expression became distant. “That’s not a good idea.”

      “I have something important to tell you.”

      “Tell me now.”

      “In the middle of the lobby?” Hallie’s cheeks went hot. She could feel people watching them. Even the model, standing nearby in her high heels, was looking down at Hallie with scorn. They were all probably wondering why such a frumpy girl would dare talk to Cristiano Moretti. For a moment, Hallie’s nerve faltered. She wanted to run away, to forget the whole thing.

      Then she saw her friends watching from the other side of the lobby. Saw her sleeping baby cuddled in the stroller. That gave her courage. “It’s important.”

      “Not interested.” But as he turned to go, she stepped in front of him.

      “Either you speak with me privately right now,” she said, determined, “or I’ll make a scene in this lobby you can’t possibly imagine.”

      Cristiano stared at her for a long moment, as if assessing her. Then he held up his hand, halting the bodyguard’s intervention.

      “Go ahead to the gala, Natalia,” he told his date. “My driver will take you. I’ll see you later.”

      The woman’s pout intensified. She glared at Hallie, then said, “All right, darling,” and sashayed out of the lobby hips first, as if she were on a catwalk at New York Fashion Week. She was so obviously a model that even the sophisticated patrons of this luxurious hotel turned to watch her go. So did Hallie, a little wistfully. What would it be like to get that much attention wherever you went? She would be able to get an audition at the Blue Hour, for one.

      “Follow me,” Cristiano said, turning on his heel without waiting to see if Hallie followed.

      She glanced nervously back at her baby and friends. Then, biting her lip, she went up the sweeping staircase, following the man she hated most on earth, to face him alone in his lair.

      * * *

      Cristiano Moretti’s jaw was tight as he went to the wet bar in his private office on the second floor.

      Lifting the lid off the crystal decanter, he glanced back at Hallie as she followed him hesitantly into the high-ceilinged room with its dark oak panels. “Scotch?”

      Hallie shook her head, her beautiful brown eyes wide.

      Turning back to the bar, he poured himself a short glass over ice. He could almost feel her vibrating with anxiety behind him. He put the lid back on the decanter, then drank the Scotch in one long, slow gulp. He realized he was playing for time.

      But then, Hallie Hatfield had been Cristiano’s biggest mistake. And at thirty-five years old, with his scandalous past, that was saying something.

      He turned to face her. “Va bene,” he said shortly. “We are alone. What do you want?”

      Hallie swallowed, blushed, hesitated. He could see her trying to formulate her words, but she didn’t have to say anything. Cristiano already knew why she was here.

      She’d come to demand money.

      Silently he cursed himself. How could he have been so stupid?

      He’d known this would happen. He was just surprised it had taken a year.

      Hallie must have spoken with a lawyer who would have pointed out her excellent case for suing him for wrongful termination. His emotions had gotten the better of him the day he’d had her fired, because he’d never done anything so foolish, before or since.

      Looking at her, he could almost understand why. Hallie had big, soulful eyes a man could drown in. And her curves! In a loose cotton sundress, her body was even more lush than he remembered. Her dark hair fell in waves over her full breasts, almost down to her tiny waist.

      Cristiano could still remember how it had felt to have her in his arms, the sensation of her soft body sliding beneath his as their naked limbs tangled in the very bedsheets she’d made just an hour before.

      He’d seduced her. There could be no doubt of that. Coming back to New York a day early, he’d heard her sweet, husky voice singing from the bedroom of his penthouse. Her wistful, heartbreaking melody had filled him with longing for things lost. Things he’d never had. Things he’d never dared even dream of.

      Then he’d seen her, waving fresh sheets in the air with her arms spread wide. An incredibly beautiful, sensual brunette with an hourglass figure, leaning over to make his bed. Even that black housekeeping uniform had looked indescribably erotic on her.

      A shocked sound had come from the back of his throat. She’d turned and looked at him. A tumble of emotions had cascaded across her beautiful face. Surprise, fear, delight. For a moment their eyes had locked, and he’d forgotten his own name.

      Then he’d forced himself to give a casual smile. “You’re not my usual housekeeper.”

      “Camille had to go home early today to be with her grandson, but she warned me not to let you catch me,” she stammered. “I’m supposed to be invisible.”

      Coming forward, his eyes devouring every inch of her, he’d murmured, “You’re anything but invisible. What were you singing?”

      “Just an Appalachian folk song.”

      “It’s beautiful.” Coming close enough to touch her, he’d whispered, “So are you.”

      Her cheeks had gone rosy, her lips parting in unconscious invitation as she stood beside his enormous bed.

      He’d reached for her.

      Cristiano knew who was at fault. He’d wanted her. So he’d taken her. Without thinking of the consequences. If he had, he would have stopped himself. It was one of his rules: never sleep with employees.

      But that wasn’t the worst rule he’d broken. Hallie wasn’t just an employee. She’d also been a virgin. Virgins were off-limits. He didn’t toy with women who might mistake sex for love and become a problem later.

      He’d known she was a virgin from the first time he’d kissed her, when he’d felt the tremble of her sweet lips. He’d felt her hesitation, her shyness, her inexperience. And he’d known. Somehow, this incredible woman was untouched.

      It hadn’t made him stop. He was a man who put few limits on his own behavior. But he had a code of honor. In Hallie Hatfield’s case, he’d recklessly blown through his own rules like dynamite through a brick wall.

      So it was no wonder he’d broken a third rule, afterward, and fired her for sleeping with him.

      That wasn’t the reason he’d given her supervisor, the head housekeeper, of course. But it had been obvious to Hallie. And clearly her lawyer, too.

      But now, as Hallie stood across from him in his private office, biting her full, delectable lower lip, it was hard for him to think about lawyers when all he wanted to do was pull her back into his arms.

      For a year,