by Dani Collins
‘What have I done,’ he said finally, his voice low and slow, ‘to deserve you?’
He took back her hands, both of them, cradling them in his, and she could feel the welts on them where burning shards had scorched his flesh as he’d tried to rescue the woman who had wrought such terrible destruction. The look on his face stopped the breath in her.
‘From the very first you have been a gift past all deserving—’
He broke off. Then spoke again, his voice still low, but filled now with an intensity of emotion that reached into the deepest recesses of her heart.
‘Pushing you away like that was more pain than I ever want to feel again. And last night...’ his face shadowed, etched with remembered darkness ‘...last night as I sat here, in my wrecked body, my wrecked home, knowing I could never ask...beg...you to come back to me, maimed as I am, I cried out to heaven with my desolation. I believed that Berenice’s vengeance had been more thorough than she could ever have dreamt of—’
She freed a hand, laying a finger on his lips, silencing him. Berenice had been denied her victory.
‘She’s gone, Evandro. She’s gone. For ever. She can hurt and damage and harm none of us any more. And we have each other...’ Joy was filling her, radiating outwards to embrace him, to embrace the whole world. ‘For ever.’
She let her fingers trace the ragged seams of his scars. Lifted her mouth to graze his softly, sweetly. Then drew back. In his eyes was all she had longed so much to see. All his love for her.
‘My lovely, loving woodland sprite,’ he said, his voice low and husky, ‘whom I love so very much...’
Emotion was rich in his voice, and Jenna’s overflowing heart swelled with radiant joy as she heard it.
He kissed her again, more deeply this time, and she felt tears dew on her lashes. But she would not shed them. This was not a time for tears...only for joy. Nothing but joy after so much heartache, and heartbreak, and tragedy, and pain. Now only joy—
For us both...for ever!
And for one more.
Footsteps sounded on the terrace, light and rapid.
‘Papà! I’m home—are you in here?’
Amelie burst in through the open French doors, then halted dead in her tracks, dropping her school bag on the floor. Evandro lifted his mouth from Jenna’s, but she felt his hand squeeze hers, not relinquishing it.
A cry of disbelieving delight and excitement broke from Amelie. ‘You came! You came, you came, you came!’
She hurled herself at Jenna, and Jenna dropped down to hug her back, crushing Amelie to her, her heart overflowing all over again at seeing the little girl she had come to love so dearly.
‘I wished and wished and prayed and prayed!’ Amelie cried into Jenna’s neck. ‘And you came—you came!’
Jenna felt Evandro haltingly hunker down beside them. When he spoke his voice was warm and rich with love—for both of them, Jenna knew with another rush of joy.
‘Yes, carina, she came—and we will never let her go again, will we?’ His arm came around them, warm on Jenna’s shoulder. ‘Never.’
Her heart was singing and she was radiant with joy, rapturous with it. With a whole heavenly chorus of everlasting joy.
He straightened, and Jenna did likewise. She could see him wince at the pressure the movement put on his damaged leg.
‘Poppet, your papà needs to sit down...’
Making a fuss of him, Amelie and Jenna helped Evandro to his leather armchair.
Evandro dropped a kiss on Amelie’s head. ‘Mignonne, run and find Signora Farrafacci. Ask her for a bottle of champagne. For we are going to celebrate—now and for always! And do not hurry back too fast, because you see...’ He bent his head and whispered something in a conspiratorial fashion to Amelie, whose face lit up before she hared off.
Evandro caught at Jenna’s hand as she stood beside his chair. His slate-dark eyes glinted with gold and she felt her heart turn over, that heavenly chorus of joy inside her reaching a crescendo.
‘I know that I should go down on one knee to say this,’ he said, and there was a ruefulness in his voice as he spoke, ‘but I might never be able to get back up again if I do, so instead—’
He drew her down to perch on the arm of the chair, taking her other hand as well, raising each to his lips in turn. His gaze was alight, pouring into hers, rich and lambent and full of love—oh, so full of love. And his voice, as he spoke, was deep and filled with all that she could ever want to hear.
‘Will you, my beloved Jenna, be my own true love, all my life, and take my love for you all your life? You are my blessing and my joy, my heart’s delight and my body’s pleasure, the companion of my days...the passion of my nights. Be mine, as I am yours, for now and all eternity.’
She felt tears dew on her eyelashes again, and he kissed them away with soft kisses.
‘Is that a yes?’ he asked.
She could hear the humour in his voice—and so much more. A world of more...
‘For now and all eternity,’ she answered.
For one long, endless moment they gazed deep into each other’s eyes, secure in the knowledge that all that had parted them had gone for ever. Then his mouth claimed hers again. She was his own true love—as she knew she always would be—and her heart soared higher yet with joy, and higher still. Time stopped and eternity began—love’s creation and its gift.
And then, as their endless kiss sealed their love, their happiness, the library doors were flung open and Amelie burst in again, followed by Signora Farrafacci bearing champagne, and Loretta and Maria holding champagne flutes and a jug of orange juice for Amelie.
There was a cacophony of congratulations and laughter and excitement and happiness, and Amelie dancing around in joyful glee, and the pop of the champagne cork, and the fetching of more glasses for the housekeeper and the maids as well, and the brimming of flutes... And Jenna was embracing everyone, and glasses were raised in toasts and salutations and felicitations such that the noise must reach heaven itself.
Except that heaven was surely here right now...and always would be.
Jenna’s joy-filled eyes swept the happy throng before coming back, as they always would, to her beloved Evandro...
Mine, oh, mine at last. As I am his.
And would be—always and for ever now.
EPILOGUE
AMELIE WAS messaging her friend.
Luisa, she’s married him! I knew she would—I wished and wished, and prayed and prayed, and now she has! And I was bridesmaid. I wore a cream dress with lace on it and I will send you a photo, because it is lovely and I will keep it to wear again at special parties, my new mamma says.
It wasn’t a big wedding, because poor Papà’s bad leg is still not completely healed, and he has to have an operation on his eye so he can see properly again, and our home is still being repaired. It’s very sad with it so much burnt down, and even sadder that my poor maman died, but Papà says she had a kind of illness inside her head, which is why I came to live here in Italy. I put flowers on her grave and the nuns pray for her, and so do I.
Reverend Mother says she is in heaven now, so she is not ill any more, or dead, because no one is ill or dead in heaven. And Reverend Mother says God has sent me a new mamma—not to take her place, but to be an extra mamma, one that’s alive, and I can love her as well as Papà, which I do already.
And Papà asked would I like a baby brother or sister, like you already have, and I said yes, please, so he is going to ask Mamma to grow one especially for me. And for them, too, as they would love to have a baby as well, my new mamma says. And I can help choose names when he or she is born.
It will take quite a long time for the baby to grow, so we shall have Christmas by ourselves, and then we shall go to Sorrento for New Year, and they will have fireworks at sea, and I can watch them from the balcony of my great-aunt’s house.
She is very old, but I like her, and she is looking after the dolls’ house Papà bought me in the summer from Naples.
I am going to stop now, because my fingers are tired and it is time for dinner. I can wear whatever outfit I like, Mamma says, because it is the weekend, so I am going to wear the frou-frou skirt with the sequinned top which I love, even though Mamma doesn’t, but she doesn’t say so, and nor does Papà, but he doesn’t say so either. But my maman in heaven bought it for me, so I think I should wear it for her.
She said as much to Jenna when she came downstairs, and Jenna kissed her gently and said that it was the right thing to do. It had been hard for Amelie to learn that Berenice was dead, but at least she knew that her father had nearly died himself, trying to save her.
‘I did try, mignonne. I promise you with all my heart’s love that I tried to save her,’ he’d said, sad for the waste and tragedy of it all.
But Jenna’s words echoed in him, helping him make what peace he could with Berenice’s memory.
‘No child is born bad. That’s the first lesson a teacher must learn. Just as something made my father cold and unloving towards me, so something warped and twisted Berenice, even if we can’t understand what it was. Maybe all we can say is that there was a sickness inside her—and we can understand her better for that, Evandro. Feel compassion because she was never able to know happiness, as we are blessed enough to know it.’
Her eyes went to Amelie, lighting with the love she felt for the little girl.
‘And she gave us both so great a gift, Evandro,’ she said quietly. ‘She gave us your daughter. For Amelie is your daughter, by every measure that counts.’
‘And yours,’ he said, taking her into his arms. ‘Never, for an instant, think otherwise.’
‘Ours.’ She smiled.
And as they went into dinner, hand in hand, Jenna remembered how they’d stood, the three of them, out on the terrace at sunset, and how she’d longed so much for what they now—thankfully, truly—were.
Family.
Loving and united.
For all their days.
* * * * *
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ISBN-13: 9781488073304
Cinderella in the Boss’s Palazzo
Copyright © 2021 by Julia James
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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www.Harlequin.com
Driven by that same little inner demon, Zoey moved a fraction closer, breathing in the vanilla-and-coffee scent of Finn’s breath, her senses rioting.
“You think you’re irresistible. That no woman with a pulse could ever say no to you. But I can resist you.”
Finn touched his nose against hers—the tiniest nudge, but it sent a shock wave through her entire body. “You’re not saying no to me—you’re saying no to yourself. You want me so badly, I can feel it every time I see you.”
Zoey fisted her hand in his hair in an almost cruel grip. “I didn’t think it was possible to hate someone as much as I hate you.”
His lips slanted in an indolent smile. “Ah, but you don’t hate me, babe. You hate how I make you feel. And I make you feel smoking-hot.”
“I feel nothing when I’m around you.”
He gave a low, deep chuckle and placed his hands on her hips, tugging her forward until she was flush against his rock-hard body. “Then let’s see if I can change that, shall we?”
Wanted: A Billionaire
What a woman wants...
Ivy, Zoey and Millie know what they want. They just never imagined that they might need the help of a billionaire to get it! Or that the arrival of Louis, Hunter and Finn would make their ordinary lives, in an instant, extraordinary!
Still, it’s the ultrarich businessmen’s worlds that will truly change. They’re about to learn that life is about more than just their next business deal. This time, it’s not their money that they’ll have to put on the line... It’s their hearts!
Lose yourself in...
Louis and Ivy’s story
One Night on the Virgin’s Terms
Millie and Hunter’s story
Breaking the Playboy’s Rules
And Zoey and Finn’s story
One Hot New York Night
All available now!
One Hot New York Night
Melanie Milburne
Melanie Milburne read her first Harlequin novel at the age of seventeen, in between studying for her final exams. After completing a master’s degree in education, she decided to write a novel, and thus her career as a romance author was born. Melanie is an ambassador for the Australian Childhood Foundation and a keen dog lover and trainer. She enjoys long walks in the Tasmanian bush. In 2015 Melanie won the HOLT Medallion, a prestigious award honoring outstanding literary talent.
Books by Melanie Milburne
Harlequin Presents
The Return of Her Billionaire Husband
Conveniently Wed!
Penniless Virgin to Sicilian’s Bride
Billionaire’s Wife on Paper
Once Upon a Temptation
His Innocent’s Passionate Awakening
Secret Heirs of Billionaires
Cinderella’s Scandalous Secret
Wanted: A Billionaire
One Night on the Virgin’s Terms
Breaking the Playboy’s Rules
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
To Elida Yesenia DeHaan. I hope you enjoy this book specially dedicated to you!
Best wishes, Melanie xx
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ONE
ZOEY SAW HIM the moment she stepped into the London auditorium where the advertising conference was being held. It wasn’t hard to make out Finn O’Connell in a crowd—he was always the one surrounded by drooling, swooning women
. At six foot six, he was head and shoulders over everyone else, with the sort of looks that could stop a bullet train. And a woman’s heart. An unguarded woman’s heart, that was.
But, just this once, Zoey allowed herself a secret little drool of her own. She might hate him with a passion but that didn’t mean she couldn’t admire some aspects of him—like his taut and toned body, his strong, powerful, muscle-packed legs, his impossibly broad shoulders, his lean chiselled jaw or his laughing brown eyes. Other aspects, not so much. If there were an Academy for Arrogance, Finn O’Connell would be top of the class.
As if he sensed her looking at him, Finn turned his head and glanced her way, his prominent black eyebrows rising ever so slightly above his eyes. Zoey was glad she wasn’t easily provoked into a blush, as that mocking gaze moved over her in one slowly assessing sweep. His lips curved upwards in a smile that sent a frisson of awareness right through her body. It was the smile of a conqueror, a man who knew what he wanted and exactly how he was going to get it.
He moved away from his posse of adoring fans and strode purposefully in Zoey’s direction. She knew she should whip round and dart out the nearest exit before he could get to her, but she couldn’t seem to get her feet to move. It was as if he had locked her in place, frozen her to the spot with the commanding force of his dark brown gaze. She always tried to avoid being alone with him, not trusting herself to resist either slapping him or throwing herself at him. She didn’t know why he of all people should have such an effect on her. He was too confident, too charming, too polished, too everything.
Finn came to stand within a foot of her, close enough for her to smell the expensive citrus notes of his aftershave and to see the devilish ah, now I’ll have some fun glint in his eyes. ‘Good morning, Ms Brackenfield.’
His bow and mock-formal tone stirred the hornet’s nest of her hatred. The blood simmered in her veins until she thought they would explode. Zoey straightened her spine, steeled her gaze and set her mouth into a prim line. ‘Looks like you’ve got your love life sorted for the next month.’ She flicked her gaze in the direction of the group of women he’d just left, her tone rich with icy disdain.