by Tara Pammi
“You make it sound so simple. As if everything sits in a different compartment—”
“You don’t seem to grasp one crucial thing. Whether I had seen you in Bali or not, whether or not I had thrown all my own rules out the window and married you when I’ve never even had a girlfriend for more than two months, this was always going to be my path in life, Alessandra.
“I would still have done everything I could to ruin all that bears the name Brunetti.”
“And I’ll be damned before I let you use me against them,” she threw back at him.
Vincenzo took her in, reluctant admiration and pride building up in his chest.
From the portrait Massimo had drawn of her, from her own actions in the last nine weeks, he’d wondered at the sanity of what he’d done. If he’d been taken in by her beauty and his lust. But now, he knew he’d made the right decision.
He wanted this Alessandra that fought for the people she loved in her life so ferociously. He wanted that loyalty all for himself.
And whether cruel or not, fate had given him another chance with her. Alessandra’s resolve to do the right thing by her half brother was his chance, his opportunity to set things straight between them.
An opportunity to get her to spend time with him, to make her see his side of the story. To turn this temporary arrangement she’d suggested into the permanent marriage he still wanted.
“Fine, I’ll give you what you’re asking for. We will pretend to be a happy, blissfully in love couple for the world. I will help you win custody of Charlie. After a trial period of say three months.”
“Trial period of what exactly?”
“Of you behaving yourself.”
“Behaving myself? How dare you—”
“Hear me out, Alessandra. You say I’ve broken your trust? You have done exactly the same to me. Believe me, Princess, you’re the first person I gave that to and you threw it back in my face without a single moment’s doubt.”
The thin thread of resentment in those words killed Alex’s ready argument. Words fell away from her lips as she stared at him, a simple truth emerging from all of it.
Their marriage had meant something to him. Maybe not the same thing as it had to her. But something. And her walking out on it, on him, he saw as...what? Abandonment? A betrayal? Had this marriage, his vows, really been sacred to him?
“I won’t... I can’t let you bring a child into this thing between us without ensuring it is truly what you want. That you’ll see all this through—these huge decisions and being a parent—without running away from it. For three months, don’t make any more life-changing decisions. Deal with your grief over your mother’s loss. Decide what you want to do with your career.”
She hated that he was being the sensible one here. “There’s nothing to deal with, V.”
“You’ve just lost your mother, Princess. You—”
“I never really had my mother in the first place to lose her.”
He reached for her hand but Alex instinctively jerked away from him. Because she didn’t trust herself. Not with him.
He exhaled roughly. “Don’t run away. Don’t... Just stay still, with me. Show the world that you’re settling down. Show me that you’re committed to this arrangement over the next three months. And then we’ll start the custody proceedings.”
“But that’s three months that Charlie’s...”
“Visit with him in the meantime. Wrap up your other obligations. Three months is a small drop in the ocean when you consider the fact that you’ll give him a stable home for the rest of his life.”
“Three months is a long time to a child who’s just lost everything, who’s living with family members who see him as nothing but a meal ticket to a better life. You’re doing this just to punish me. Because I walked out on you.”
“No, Alessandra. I’m doing this to make sure we both know what we’re getting into this time. To make sure we’re not compounding the first mistake by bringing an innocent into this mess.”
“Both you and I know how much damage could be done to a child by the smallest thoughtless action. We can’t...” Her throat caught on the words. “I can’t leave him there alone, unprotected.”
“Fine, Princess,” Vincenzo offered in a soothing tone. His brow furrowed into a thoughtful frown while he stared at her with that same intensity he brought to everything he did. “Did your mother have any friends that Charlie knows well?”
“Yes.” Alex nodded.
“People you trust?”
“Yep. They have a little boy Charlie’s age. I met them when I visited him for his last birthday party.”
“You said you and your mother were estranged.”
Alex shrugged. “Yes, we were. But that doesn’t mean I was going to completely shut Charlie out of my life. I never missed a birthday of his, and as soon as he learned to read, I regularly sent him little cards and letters.”
“I’ll make some calls. Maybe we can arrange for him to stay with that family until the custody hearing is done. He can go to the same school as their son, keep the same routine and have familiar people around him while you and I figure this out.”
Alex nodded, gratitude cutting away any words that could rise up and ruin this temporary détente. At least in this matter, her trust in him hadn’t been misplaced. And he was right.
She’d run away from her problems in the past. More than once. But not anymore.
This time, she was going to face them, and him, head-on.
She was going to stay by his side and do everything she could to stop this destruction of the Brunettis that he was bent on, using every weapon available to her. But never again was she going to forget that there was a bone-deep ruthlessness inside him; never again was she going to foolishly believe that he was capable of love.
“I have a condition of my own too,” she threw at him impulsively, the idea of three months living in close quarters with him seeming like a lifetime. A lifetime of intimacy, of awareness and desire, of shattered dreams and naive hopes.
“What?” he said smoothly, even as he uncoiled himself and sauntered toward her. It was like watching a predator emerge from stalking, ready to pounce.
She stood rooted in place, refusing to reveal how much his nearness affected her. How much the heat of his body called to her. “I’m not sleeping with you. This is not a real marriage. Not anymore.”
“Ah... Massimo was right.”
Her breath stuttered in her throat as he lifted his hand and gently pushed away a strand of her hair from her shoulder. “About what?”
“That I don’t know you well at all. But even he doesn’t know how cruel you can be, does he, Princess?”
Alex compulsively licked her lips just as his gaze zeroed in there. “It muddies everything for me. That’s how you trapped me in the first place. You’re too damned good in bed.”
A wicked light came into his eyes, making them magnetic. “I think that’s just the connection between us, bella. A connection that you’re doing everything to run away from.”
“Hot sex, however tempting, can’t be the only bedrock of a marriage.”
“Unfortunately for my body, I agree.” He pursed his lips and leveled a thoughtful look at her. “Shall I suggest an amendment to your condition?”
“What?”
“We should each be allowed to try to seduce the other, si? If I try and you give in, you can’t hold that against me.”
“I won’t give in. And I definitely don’t want to seduce you.”
He tilted his head to the side, his gaze holding hers captive. “Then there’s no harm in the challenge then, is there?” She had somehow managed to nod when he bent his head and whispered in her ear. “I do wish you’d change your mind about seducing me, Princess.”
Her heart raced, sensation zinging across her skin. “Why?”
&nb
sp; “There’s nothing more arousing, nothing sexier in the world than a beautiful, powerhouse of a woman who goes after what she wants with a single-minded determination.
“In fact, I’d say that’s how you trapped me, Princess.” His lips never really grazed the sensitive skin beneath her ear, but Alex felt the touch nevertheless, like a searing burn. “Being so thoroughly wanted like that by you is an incredible high unlike any other in the entire world.”
CHAPTER FIVE
ALESSANDRA HATED TO admit it, even during the most peaceful moments while she’d been hiding out in Bali, but there had been a kernel of doubt in her mind as to whether she’d done the right thing in deciding to quit modeling.
Show after high stakes frantic show for top designers around the world, running from city to city, country to country like a nomad, working close to eighty hours a week, with no time for a personal life or the deep commitments she’d wanted—the stress of it had taken its toll on her.
Of course, she’d partied in the beginning—partied hard with the heady freedom of a sixteen-year-old who’d found the world at her feet—but over the years the vacuous, often cutthroat glamor of it all had paled and she’d become more and more unhappy.
Photographers who’d once loved working with her had started calling her fractious, restless, the second she hadn’t been performing to perfection. She’d been turning up late for fitting appointments, finding a myriad of excuses. Once she’d arrived late and covered in glitter and hair spray from a previous show, minutes before she was due to walk, the stress of running across the city during fashion week making her nauseous. Making her want to run away from the sea of frantic strangers surrounding her.
That particular evening, she’d confided in Javier that her heart just wasn’t in it anymore.
The creep had mocked her. From there, their argument had spiraled into a complete destruction of their relationship, the only place it had left to go. Only then had she realized she didn’t want to be with Javier. He had become another crutch.
And then she’d learned the appalling facts about the working conditions of the cosmetics company she represented. Horrified, Alex had scathingly criticized the company in an interview and quit the contract on the spot.
It had been a hotheaded, more than reckless, move. Her agent had blasted her—she was gathering too much ill will in an industry where reputation meant everything. Even the warning hadn’t been enough to make her care.
She’d had enough. So she had run off to Bali and ended up marrying the first man who’d shown an interest in her.
Seen like that, the picture of her that emerged didn’t look good.
Now, while she stood like a mannequin with her arms stretched out, her face upturned for a makeup artist to dab highlighter onto her cheeks, Alex looked at her reflection in the mirror under the overhead lights and smiled.
Relief was a river gushing through her insides.
God, she was so done with this.
Only a few minutes to the show and backstage was packed with people, all to ensure a fabulous show. She was totally aware of the strange looks she’d been getting from all of them, ever since she’d arrived.
Gossip was the backbone of the fashion industry, and she’d no doubt her stunt with the cosmetics company, her subsequent absence for the last few months and her sudden reappearance now were the hot topics of discussion.
She felt free, as if a weight had been lifted, as she shrugged on a sheer, lacy, red cover-up and moved to join the line of models about to go on.
Someone sidled up to the producer, Isha, who was one of Alex’s few friends in the industry, and a heated argument ensued. All heads turned to them as both women bent their head over a seating arrangement.
Alex sidled up to her friend in the wings and enveloped her in a side hug, being extra careful as to not smudge her makeup or even breathe the wrong way. “Everything okay?”
“Some big bajillionaire VIP has shown up, unannounced, at the last minute, and his team of assistants wants a front row seat for him, of course. Even the crazy genius that is Jean Benoit,” she said, mentioning the designer whose collection they were showing off, “doesn’t want to get on this man’s wrong side. They’re all turning themselves inside out figuring out where to put him.
“Apparently, he’s here to see one of the models.”
Alex felt a flutter of alarm in her chest. It had been a fortnight since Vincenzo and she had butted heads, then agreed to a plan. Since they both had super busy schedules, they’d barely seen each other since. It suited her just fine, even though she knew the logistics of their deal would come at her soon enough like a freight train.
Suddenly, Alex understood how a hunted animal felt. “Any idea who it is?”
Isha shook her head. “Focus on the show, Alex.”
The flutter morphed into a full-blown panic attack. “Isha, just tell me.”
“It’s the same Italian businessman—the reclusive owner of that international brokerage firm who’s been in the media spotlight the past week. It was leaked that he’s related to the Brunettis of Milan, which is why he’s been going after them. Apparently, he’s the secret illegitimate son of the old coot, Silvio. His name’s...”
“Vincenzo Cavalli,” Alex added, her insides turning into spaghetti. Her heart thumped with a dizzying excitement, and it had nothing to do with the high she usually associated with doing a show.
Alex squared her shoulders and strutted out onto the catwalk, wondering how apt the song blaring out of the speakers was.
Something about bad girls living fast and burning out.
She had to be if she wanted to change the mind of the man sitting in the middle seat of the front row, eating her alive with those penetrating gray eyes.
Too late to back out now that she’d made a deal with the devil.
Vincenzo threw back the last bit of his whiskey and walked up the curving designer staircase onto the balcony that offered a bird’s-eye view of the latest nonstop party central that was the nightclub he’d launched recently.
Seeing the final product tonight, when it had been the ruins of an old, abandoned train depot not long ago, filled him with an immense satisfaction.
The secret nightclub—not so secret anymore now that the high fashion crowd of Milan had discovered it—was bustling with people from the show. Hip-hop music blared through the loudspeakers, while bartenders delighted the crowds with colorful cocktails.
But even with purple strobe lights flashing on and off from crowd to crowd, he could still spot his dear little wife.
His gaze unerringly returned to Alessandra again and again, desperate to drink in the sight of her after two weeks of drought.
He’d always been a man who took risks. A man who played against the odds and won. Or else he wouldn’t have been in a position to challenge the Brunetti brothers, who’d been born with every conceivable advantage.
His marriage had been a risk, just like this club had been, but not a strategic or financial risk like all the others. It had been a different kind. But in the end, it would pay out.
Alessandra fluttered through the party like a butterfly, flitting from flower to flower. Her toned, curvaceous body that she maintained with an iron-willed discipline showcased beautifully in the slinky black number that parted with a wide V-neck, displaying the sides of her breasts, and yet somehow remained tasteful, elegant. There was a slight ruffled hem that flirted around her upper thighs, again just about covering those round buttocks he’d cradled in his palms a few months ago.
No such contact was forthcoming anytime soon, he realized with a self-deprecating smile. He’d just have to be patient. He’d have to win Alessandra like he did everything else in life.
Knowing that the woman he’d married was an international supermodel that men fantasized over was one thing. Seeing it in person was another. It felt like every man here a
t the club had swarmed her.
“Everyone adores Alessandra.”
Here was proof. And yet she’d chosen to marry him after knowing him only for a few short weeks.
“I’m not a prize, Vincenzo.”
Her angry words reverberated inside his head, and he knew he was wrong for feeling this sense of pride whenever he saw her.
An atavistic response, uncharacteristic and unworthy of him. Mine, something inside him insisted. Only mine.
He frowned, as a particularly tenacious man followed her from group to group, an urgency to his swarthy features. A stocky Spaniard by the name of Javier Diaz, Vincenzo had no doubt.
He kept an eye on them, ready to lend help if needed, but she dismissed her ex with a scathing remark that had her eyes flashing sparks. That made Vincenzo smile despite the tension stiffening his shoulders.
Other than a brief tilt of her head in acknowledgment, she’d been avoiding Vincenzo all evening.
He let her.
She needed to decompress after the electrifying atmosphere of the show and the relentless demands it had placed on her, and he... He needed to get a better handle on his own emotions tonight before he approached her.
While he’d intended to give them both a breathing space and the energy to finish their immediate obligations before the media ruckus the announcement of their marriage would cause—two fashion shows and one photoshoot in Alessandra’s case—and everything had gone to hell. Someone had leaked his relationship to the Brunettis to the press.
He’d had to cut his Beijing trip short to deal with the media circus and the crisis it had caused with the BFI board.
“Is it true that Silvio Brunetti seduced a hotel maid and you were the product?”
“Are you the illegitimate son of Silvio Brunetti?”
“What are your intentions for BFI?”
The Brunetti Bastard one trashy tabloid had called him, choosing to go with the lowest denominator.