Kate Hewitt - Moretti's Marriage Command

‘So how do you propose —no pun intended—to make this work? Not,’ Hannah informed him with swift asperity, ‘that I’m actually thinking of going along with this idea.’

‘Of course not,’ Luca murmured.

Hannah watched, mesmerised, as he tugged off his tie and then began to unbutton his shirt. ‘What are you doing?’ she squeaked.

‘Changing. We’re due for cocktails in an hour.’

‘Can’t you use the bathroom—?’ She nodded towards the door that led to what looked like a sumptuous en suite.

‘Why should I?’ Luca’s smile was wicked. ‘We’re engaged to be married, after all.’

Hannah took a deep breath. ‘So, you still haven’t told me how this is going to work.’

‘We’re going to act like we’re engaged. Simple.’

‘Simple?’ She opened her eyes to glare at Luca. He stood across the room, buckling the belt on a pair of grey trousers. His chest was still gloriously bare. ‘It’s not simple, Luca. We’re not engaged. We barely know each other. If someone asks either one of us anything about our relationship or how we met we’ll have no idea what to say.’

‘It’s best to keep as close to the truth as possible,’ Luca advised as he reached for a light blue shirt and shrugged into it. ‘You’re still my PA.’

‘And we just happen to be engaged? Convenient.’

He shot her a quick, hard smile. ‘It is, isn’t it?’

After spending three years as a die-hard New Yorker, KATE HEWITTnow lives in a small village in the English Lake District with her husband, their five children and a golden retriever. In addition to writing intensely emotional stories, she loves reading, baking and playing chess with her son—she has yet to win against him, but she continues to try. Learn more about Kate at kate-hewitt.com.

Moretti’s Marriage Command

Kate Hewitt

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To all my readers.

Thank you for your encouragement and support. It’s always a privilege to write stories for you.

Contents

COVER

INTRODUCTION ‘So how do you propose —no pun intended—to make this work? Not,’ Hannah informed him with swift asperity, ‘that I’m actually thinking of going along with this idea.’ ‘Of course not,’ Luca murmured. Hannah watched, mesmerised, as he tugged off his tie and then began to unbutton his shirt. ‘What are you doing?’ she squeaked. ‘Changing. We’re due for cocktails in an hour.’ ‘Can’t you use the bathroom—?’ She nodded towards the door that led to what looked like a sumptuous en suite. ‘Why should I?’ Luca’s smile was wicked. ‘We’re engaged to be married, after all.’ Hannah took a deep breath. ‘So, you still haven’t told me how this is going to work.’ ‘We’re going to act like we’re engaged. Simple.’ ‘Simple?’ She opened her eyes to glare at Luca. He stood across the room, buckling the belt on a pair of grey trousers. His chest was still gloriously bare. ‘It’s not simple, Luca. We’re not engaged. We barely know each other. If someone asks either one of us anything about our relationship or how we met we’ll have no idea what to say.’ ‘It’s best to keep as close to the truth as possible,’ Luca advised as he reached for a light blue shirt and shrugged into it. ‘You’re still my PA.’ ‘And we just happen to be engaged? Convenient.’ He shot her a quick, hard smile. ‘It is, isn’t it?’

ABOUT THE AUTHOR After spending three years as a die-hard New Yorker, KATE HEWITT now lives in a small village in the English Lake District with her husband, their five children and a golden retriever. In addition to writing intensely emotional stories, she loves reading, baking and playing chess with her son—she has yet to win against him, but she continues to try. Learn more about Kate at kate-hewitt.com .

TITLE PAGE Moretti’s Marriage Command Kate Hewitt www.millsandboon.co.uk

DEDICATION To all my readers. Thank you for your encouragement and support. It’s always a privilege to write stories for you.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

EXTRACT

COPYRIGHT

CHAPTER ONE

LUCA MORETTI NEEDED a wife. Not a real one—heaven forbid he’d ever need that. No, he needed a temporary wife-to-be who was efficient, biddable, and discreet. A wife for the weekend.

‘Mr Moretti?’ His PA, Hannah Stewart, knocked once on the door before opening it and stepping inside his penthouse office overlooking a rain-washed Lombard Street in London’s City. ‘I have the letters for you to sign.’

Luca watched his PA walk towards him holding the sheaf of letters, her light brown hair neatly pulled back, her face set in calm lines. She wore a black pencil skirt, low heels, and a simple blouse of white silk. He’d never really bothered to notice his PA before, except at how quickly she could type and how discreet she could be when it came to unfortunate personal calls that occasionally came through to his office. Now he eyed her plain brown hair, and lightly freckled face that was pretty without being in any way remarkable. As for her figure...?

Luca let his gaze wander down his PA’s slender form. No breathtaking or bodacious curves, but it was passable.

Could he...?

She placed the letters in front of him and took a step back, but not before he caught a waft of her understated floral perfume. He reached for his fountain pen and began to scrawl his signature on each letter.

‘Will that be all, Mr Moretti?’ she asked when he’d finished the last one.

‘Yes.’ He handed her the letters and Hannah turned towards the door, her skirt whispering against her legs as she walked. Luca watched her, eyes narrowed, certainty settling in his gut. ‘Wait.’

Obedient as ever, Hannah pivoted back to face him, her pale eyebrows raised expectantly. She’d been a good PA these last three years, working hard and not making a fuss about it. He sensed ambition and willpower beneath her ‘aiming to please’ persona, and the weekend would require both qualities, as long as she agreed to the deception. Which he would make sure she did.

‘Mr Moretti?’

Luca lounged back in his chair as he drummed his fingers on his desk. He didn’t like lying. He’d been honest his whole life, proud of who he was even though so many had knocked him back, tried to keep him down. But this weekend was different. This weekend was everything to him, and Hannah Stewart was no more than a cog in his plans. A very important cog.

‘I have an important meeting this weekend.’

‘Yes, on Santa Nicola,’ Hannah replied. ‘Your ticket is in your passport wallet, and the limo is set to pick you up tomorrow morning at nine, from your flat. The flight leaves from Heathrow at noon.’