Claiming His Hidden Heir: Claiming His Hidden Heir

‘It’s got sugar in it,’ she warned as she took a seat at her desk, ‘and, please, it’s Cecelia, not Cece.’

‘Habit,’ he said.

‘Well, it’s a very annoying one.’

Good, Luka thought.

Her cool demeanour incensed him.

His choice of name for her was deliberate, for he loved to provoke a reaction, even if it was only mild.

‘How was your weekend?’ she asked politely, pretending of course that she had heard nothing whatsoever about it.

‘Much the same as the last,’ he answered, and then came over behind Cecelia’s desk and, to her intense annoyance, he lowered himself so that his bottom was beside her computer. ‘Do you ever get bored?’ he asked.

‘Not really,’ Cecelia lied, for she had realised she had been bored with Gordon.

He had also worked in the City and they had fallen into a pattern of meeting for drinks on Wednesday, allowing time to catch up with friends on a Friday. It had generally just been the two of them on a Saturday, followed by a vague hint of an orgasm that night and generally a boring drive on Sunday with a pub lunch somewhere.

And then perhaps another anti-climactic tryst that night.

It hadn’t been Gordon’s fault.

Cecelia held back in sex just as she held back in life.

In fact, the fault lay with the man now lounging against her desk, for he had opened her eyes to sensations that should surely remain unexplored.

Oh, she should never have taken the job, Cecelia thought as Luka persisted with a conversation she would rather draw to a close.

‘But don’t you ever get tired of doing the same old thing?’ he asked.

‘I like the same old things,’ Cecelia answered.

He glanced at her neat, ordered desk and knew that the inside of her drawers would look exactly the same.

And then, just to annoy her, just to provoke some reaction, he picked up her little pottery jar that held her pens and things and moved it to the other side of her desk. ‘Live a little.’

‘No, thank you.’ She smiled grimly and moved the jar back where it belonged. As she did so he got the scent of freshly washed hair.

That was it.

Cecelia didn’t wear perfume; there were no undertones that he could note, and not just in her scent.

She was impossible to read, unlike any woman Luka had ever met. He had long ago given up flirting with her—the disapproval in her eyes kind of ruined the fun.

And as reckless as he was, Luka only ever played with the willing.

‘You look nice,’ he told her, and he felt the scold of her slight frown for daring to comment on something personal. Cecelia kept things very strictly business, yet she responded politely.

‘Thank you.’

But Luka did not leave it there. ‘You’re wearing a dress.’

‘That’s very observant of you, Luka.’

‘I’m just mentioning it because you don’t usually.’

‘Well, it’s been a long, warm weekend. I couldn’t face wearing a suit.’

‘No, but—’

‘Luka,’ Cecelia interrupted him, ‘if you have an issue with me dressing more casually than normal, then please just say so and it won’t happen again.’

‘I have no issue with you wearing a dress.’

‘Then there’s nothing to discuss.’

‘Are you sure about that?’ Luka said. He hadn’t intended to address this today but clearly the moment was upon them.

‘What I wear—’ Cecelia started to say, but then Luka cut in.

‘Do you have another dental appointment today, Cecelia?’ His voice had changed and he delivered his words with a threatening edge by using her correct name. ‘A final interview perhaps?’

He was rather certain that she was leaving, and more certain now because to her pale cheeks there came a very rare flush.

PAs came and went.

Luka was very used to that.

He was an exceptionally demanding boss and was aware that few could keep up with his impossible schedule for very long.

Usually all he required was for the incumbent PA to train the next one to standard before she left and ensure that the handover was seamless.

That Cecelia might be about to leave, though, brought a sense of disquiet like nothing he had known.

He liked her in his life, Luka realised, and he didn’t want her to be gone. But three prolonged dental appointments in recent weeks had served as ominous signs, and he’d been certain of it when she had avoided discussing the renewal of her contract.

‘Is there something you’ve been meaning to tell me?’ he asked.

‘Actually, yes.’ She took a breath and then glanced over at the sound of the elevator door opening and saw that Bridgette had arrived.

Cecelia did not want an audience for this.

‘Would it be possible to have a word in private?’

‘Of course,’ Luka said. ‘You know my door is always closed.’ When she didn’t smile at his little joke he stood from the desk. ‘Come on through.’

Luka decided he would have to talk her out of it.