‘She’s flying in from Sydney on Friday and I’d like Lena, Mark and the boys to join us here for lunch on Saturday to meet her.’
Before he left he had a private talk with his mother, pledging his and Lauren’s support in caring for his father. They’d sworn together to keep their knowledge of his father’s infidelity a secret from her, saving her any more pain.
Finally acknowledging that loving someone meant accepting their faults and weaknesses, he put his arm around her. Holding her close, he regretted the years they’d lost.
‘I was young, arrogant and so very wrong to keep distance between us for so long. If I hadn’t you’d have been able to confide in me and that reporter would never have had a story to write.’
‘You have your father’s pride, Matthew. Promise me you won’t let it come between you and Lauren.’
‘I promise. She’s more than I deserve, and is willing to help us keep Dad at home with you as long as possible.’
She wrapped her arms around him and he clung tight, grateful that he had the chance to make amends and heal the rift between them.
* * *
Mid-winter, the twenty-third of June. Lauren woke before the alarm, stretched and smiled at the blue skies behind the treetops outside. Sunshine as predicted for her winter wedding day, though not even a cyclone could mar the occasion. Tonight she’d be Mrs Matthew Dalton.
She threw back the covers, and ran to the shower, leaving the door open in case he rang early. He did, but by then she was perched on the side of the bed, wearing her dressing gown, and combing her towel-dry hair.
‘Happy wedding day, my love. I missed you.’ The sound of his voice, gravel rough from sleep, was her favourite way of starting each day.
‘Me too, Matt. I’m lost in this bed without you.’ She lay back into the pillows, wishing he were here beside her in the Fords’ guest suite.
‘Wasn’t my idea to spend the night apart. Clair and our mothers ganged up on me. Never going to happen again if I can prevent it.’ The low growl in his voice skittled up and down her spine. He’d only begrudgingly agreed after she’d said it would please the older women.
‘I’ll make it up to you.’ She dropped her tone, trying for seductive, laughed when he growled again.
‘You will, my love. I kept myself awake compiling a list.’
She quivered with delight, imagined ticking off each item. ‘I love you, Matt. Four o’clock is a long time away.’
‘Longer until we’re alone. Then we have two weeks, just you and me where no one can find us.’
Someone tapped on her door.
‘I have to go. I’ve got company.’
‘Look in the bottom drawer on my side of the bed, darling. I’ll see you at four. I love you, Lauren.’
Her mother peeped in as she ended the call. Along with thrilling Matt and Lauren with the offer of their home and grounds for the wedding, Duncan and Clair had invited her parents to stay with them for the event.
Accepting there would always be differences between herself and her family had allowed her to form a real bond with them. Matt had ensured no one on her guest list was absent, and hotels and guest houses in neighbouring towns were filled with relatives and friends from interstate.
‘You’re awake. Happy wedding day, darling.’ Her mother hugged and kissed her, and sat on the edge of the bed.
Do you want to come for a walk with me, Clair and the dogs after a quick breakfast? It’s going to be chaotic once the trucks start arriving with the marquee, and everything.’
‘Give me ten minutes and I’ll see you on the veranda.’
As soon as her mother left Lauren dived over the bed, pulled the drawer open, and took out a small black box. She gasped with joy at the delicate yellow pendant and earrings. A real full orchid and two orchid centres preserved in resin with their true colours.
Matt’s message, handwritten on the small white card, was memorised, never to be forgotten. Every word of the text she sent him came from her heart.
* * *
It didn’t turn out to be so long after all when the hours were filled with the walk, meals and watching the lawn areas being transformed into a perfect venue for her dream wedding. She agreed to a hair stylist but did her own make-up, her hand as steady as her heartbeat. And every two hours she slipped away to be alone when Matt called, their secret pact to keep in touch throughout their special day.
Marcus and Rosalind arrived and she shared a quiet time with the two sets of parents. Her future father-in-law had no idea he’d been spared prosecution because of his deteriorating condition and the fact that no withdrawals had been made from the secret accounts. Everything had been transferred into the company files and all due taxes paid with interest for late submission.
Dalton Corporation had a new direction, the contracts for the new project had been signed last month, and Matt was the official CEO. He and his colleague in London were negotiating the sale of his flat and his shares in the consultancy firm.
The way everything fell into place, and ran smoothly to favourable solutions, sometimes scared her. Then she’d look into Matt’s eyes, and know that, whatever troubles they encountered, he’d be there to love and support her, and smooth their way forward.
* * *
It was ten minutes to four. There was a chill in the air, and all areas were dotted with outdoor heaters. Somewhere in the garden Matt was waiting for her, as impatient as she was to make the vows that would join them for life.
She saw the rows of seated people waiting as her father escorted her across the veranda, looked beyond them to the decorated arch where the celebrant stood with...
Everything bar the man who’d turned towards her became lost in a haze that surrounded her. Matt, who’d taught her to let her true self shine, and showed her she was worthy of being loved. There was only Matt and his irresistible smile, his electric touch and those oh-so-persuasive lips drawing her closer. Only his midnight-blue eyes growing misty as she reached him. Only him, his gentle kiss and whispered words as he embraced her.
Matt would never find the words to express the emotions that rippled through his body when he turned to see Lauren at the top of the veranda steps. A vision in white was inadequate. She was gorgeous, stunning, and wearing his wedding gift.
This beautiful woman who’d captured his heart and soul as she helped him save his father’s company and reputation. His own special angel who filled his days and nights with love and laughter.
Their eyes locked and the world disappeared as he willed her to his side. He acknowledged her father’s traditional greeting automatically, his focus on Lauren’s dazzling smile. Drawing her into his arms, he kissed her soft lips and whispered how much she meant to him.
They stood face to face, hands joined. Ten years ago he’d asked for a prize and claimed a kiss. He might not deserve her, but today he was claiming the best, the sweetest, the most loving woman as his for ever.
* * * * *
If you enjoy office romances,
look out for the next 9 TO 5 title,
MISS PRIM AND THE MAVERICK MILLIONAIRE
by Nina Singh—on sale next month!
Keep reading for an excerpt from
RETURN OF HER ITALIAN DUKE
by Rebecca Winters
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Return of Her Italian Duke
by Rebecca Winters
CHAPTER ONE
Castello di Lombardi, ten years ago
AT TWO IN the morning, Vincenzo Gagliardi, newly turned eighteen, quickly dressed in jeans and a hoodie he pulled over his black hair. The long sleeves covered the bruises on his arms. He could feel the welts still smarting on his back and legs as he slid his pack over his shoulders. Then he looked around his room one more time, glancing at the bed.
A vision of Gemma, the woman who’d been entwined in his arms there the night before, wouldn’t leave his mind. After the pleasure they’d given each other despite his wounds, and the plans he’d envisioned for their future, it killed him to think he had to leave her at all. But the difficulties with his father made his flight necessary. Worse, he couldn’t tell her where he was going or why. It was for her own protection.
Once his father, the acting Duca di Lombardi, started looking for him, he’d interrogate everyone, including Gemma, and he would be able to tell if she was lying or not. If the girl he’d grown up with from earliest childhood knew nothing about his disappearance, then his father would sense it and have to believe her.
Arrivederci, Gemma, his heart moaned. Ti amo.
Making sure no one saw him, he hurried through the fourteenth-century castello to Dimi’s room in the other tower. His cousin had left his bedroom door open. Closer than brothers, they’d been planning Vincenzo’s disappearance for a year.
Dimi was waiting for him. “You’re late and must go now! I’ve been watching from the parapet. The guard with the dog won’t be walking past the entrance for another seven minutes.”
“This is it, cousin. Remember—when I’m established in New York, I’ll contact you. Look for the phone number through an ad in the help wanted of Il Giorno’s classified section. Be sure to call me on a throwaway phone.”
Dimi nodded.
“It won’t be long before you turn eighteen. I’ll wire you money so you can join me. And as soon as I reach my destination, I’ll phone our grandfather so he won’t worry.” Both boys were the grandsons of the cancer-stricken Emanuele Gagliardi, the old Duca di Lombardi, who no longer could function and verged on death.
His cousin’s eyes teared up. “Che Dio di benedica, Vincenzo.”
He tried to clear his throat. “God be with you, too, Dimi. Promise me you’ll keep an eye on Gemma.”
“You know I will.”
Vincenzo hated this situation that took him away from her, but there was no going back. He thanked his cousin for his sacrifice, hating their gut-wrenching separation and the horrible position he’d been put in. But they both agreed the danger was too great to do anything else.
As they hugged hard, Vincenzo realized that he could barely see through the tears. The deep well of shame and pain because he hadn’t been able to protect his mother was something he would have to carry for the rest of his life. Gemma was better off without him.
Because of Dimi’s loyalty, no one would ever know where he’d gone. This was the way it had to be.
Now that Vincenzo had been forced to cut himself off from the world he knew, the need to make money had taken hold of his life and had become his raison d’être.
* * *
Gemma lay in bed, wide-awake, at six in the morning, reliving the moments she’d spent with Vincenzo the night before last. When she’d heard he’d suffered injuries from a fall off his horse, she hadn’t been able to resist slipping up to his tower bedroom to see if he was all right.
Despite his physical pain, they’d tried to love each other until he’d told her she needed to get back to her room. Gemma had wanted to stay the entire night with him and couldn’t understand why he’d been so insistent she leave. She’d wanted to lie in his arms forever.
It was painful to have to tear herself away from him. After making sure no guards were watching, she slipped down the winding staircase at the back of the castello to reach the rooms where she and her mother lived behind the kitchen.
Yesterday after school she hadn’t seen him at all, and she feared his injuries were worse. If she didn’t spot him in the back courtyard today after she got home, she’d go up to his room again tonight to find out why.
He was such an expert rider, it was hard to believe he’d been hurt so badly. While she suffered over what had happened to him, she heard a knock on her bedroom door. “Gemma? Get up and get dressed, then come in the main room quickly!”
She didn’t normally get up until six thirty to start getting ready for school. Alarmed by the concern in her mother’s voice, Gemma did her bidding.
When she emerged from the small room, she saw a sight she’d never forget. Vincenzo’s father, the acting Duca di Lombardi, stood there while three policemen searched their rooms off the castello kitchen.
He and Vincenzo bore a strong likeness to each other, but there was all the difference in the world between them. The duca’s stare at her was so menacing, she shuddered.
Her mother grabbed her hand. “The duca wishes to ask you a few questions, Gemma.”
He’d never talked to her personally in her life. “Yes, Your Highness?”
“Where’s my son?”
She blinked. “I—I don’t know what you mean,” she stammered.
“If you know anything, you must tell him, Gemma.”
“I know nothing, Mamma.”
The police reappeared, shaking their heads. The duca took a threatening step toward her. “My son is missing from the castello, and I believe you know where he’s gone.”
Gemma froze. Vincenzo was gone? “I swear on my faith in the Holy Virgin that I have no idea where he would be.”
His face turned a ruddy color. He shot a fiery glance at Gemma’s mother, who crossed herself. “She’s lying! Since you can’t get the truth from her, I insist you leave the premises immediately and take your baggage with you.” Gemma flinched. “I’ll make certain you’re never able to get another job again!”
He wheeled around and left. The police followed and shut the door.
Gemma ran to her mother and hugged her hard. Both of them trembled. “I swear I don’t know anything about Vincenzo. I swear it, Mamma.”
“I believe you. Start packing your bag. I’ll do the same. We have to get out of here as soon as possible in case he comes back. I’ll call for a taxi from the kitchen. We’ll leave for the train station and go back to Florence.”
Fifteen minutes later they assembled in the kitchen. The other cook and her daughter, Bianca, Gemma’s best friend, were there, too, with their bags. The duca’s fury knew no bounds. As they hurried out of the service entrance at the back of the castello to wait, the duca’s words rang in her ears.
She’s lying! Since you can’t get the truth from her, you must leave the premises immediately and take your baggage you. I’ll make certain you’re never able to get another
job again!
When the taxi arrived, Gemma climbed inside feeling as dead as last winter’s ashes.
New York City, six months ago
After Dimi had phoned Vincenzo during the night with news that had come close to sending him into shock, he made calls to his two best friends and asked them to come to his Manhattan penthouse above his office ASAP.
Once arrangements were made, he told his assistant he wouldn’t be in the office today and didn’t want to be disturbed for any reason. Within two hours they’d both shown up using his private elevator.
The ultra-contemporary apartment suited Vincenzo perfectly. He liked the modern art on the white walls and the floor-to-ceiling windows that let in the light. Up here there were no dark reminders of the past. Here, he could breathe. Or he’d thought he could, until Dimi’s phone call.
“Thanks for coming so fast,” he said in Italian. “I’m just thankful you were available.”
Cesare nodded. “You made it sound like life or death.”
“It is to me.”
His friend Takis eyed him curiously. “What’s going on, Vincenzo?”
“Something that will surprise you. I’ll tell you over breakfast. Come to the dining room.”
Once they sat down and started to eat, Vincenzo handed them each a photograph of the massive Castello di Lombardi. “You’re looking at the former residence of the Gagliardi family. From that family, two hundred years ago, sprang the first illustrious Duca di Lombardi, an important political figure in that region of Italy.”
They stared at the photo, then looked at him in confusion.
“Why am I showing you this?” He read their minds. “Because there’s more to me than you know. What I’m about to tell you could cause you to distrust me. You would have every right to walk out of here and never look back.”
A Bride for the Brooding Boss Page 18