by Andie Brock
The proposal he never expected to make...
Life as a single man suits Orlando Cassano just fine. He believes in working hard and taking his pleasures whenever he chooses. Until his affair with sassy CEO Isobel Spicer ends in a very unexpected result!
Orlando may not have had a father figure growing up but he will be a parent to his child. Yet getting independent career woman Isobel down the aisle will take more than his legendary skills of seduction. For she demands the one thing he’s never given anyone: that he confront his past if they are to have a future...
“I am going to be one hundred percent committed to our child. Do I make myself clear?”
Isobel swallowed.
“And one more thing.” He set his jaw determinedly. “We will need to get married.”
Orlando coldly watched the look of panic sweep over Isobel’s face, the irony of the situation striking him. Never had he expected his marriage proposal to be met with such a reaction. But then, never had he expected to make one. Life as a single man had suited him just fine—he believed in working hard and taking his pleasures when and where he chose, usually in the form of beautiful women and always, always on his terms.
But circumstances had dramatically changed, the unimaginable had happened and now he was going to make Isobel his wife, no matter how distasteful she may find it. Because no way was he going to have his child growing up illegitimate, like he had. No way was he going to follow the pattern of his father in any shape or form.
One Night With Consequences
When one night...leads to pregnancy!
When succumbing to a night of unbridled desire it’s impossible to think past the morning after!
But, with the sheets barely settled, that little blue line appears on the pregnancy test and it doesn’t take long to realize that one night of white-hot passion has turned into a lifetime of consequences!
Only one question remains:
How do you tell a man you’ve just met that you’re about to share more than just his bed?
Find out in:
Married for Amari’s Heir by Maisey Yates
Bound by the Billionaire’s Baby by Cathy Williams
From One Night to Wife by Rachael Thomas
Her Nine Month Confession by Kim Lawrence
An Heir Fit for a King by Abby Green
Larenzo’s Christmas Baby by Kate Hewitt
An Illicit Night with the Greek by Susanna Carr
A Vow to Secure His Legacy by Annie West
Bound to the Tuscan Billionaire by Susan Stephens
Look for more One Night With Consequences coming soon!
ANDIE BROCK
The Shock Cassano Baby
Andie Brock started inventing imaginary friends around the age of four and is still doing that today; only now the sparkly fairies have made way for spirited heroines and sexy heroes. Thankfully she now has some real friends, as well as a husband and three children, plus a grumpy but lovable cat. Andie lives in Bristol and, when not actually writing, could well be plotting her next passionate romance story.
Books by Andie Brock
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The Sheikh’s Wedding Contract
The Last Heir of Monterrato
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To my daughter Betsy. For being an enthusiastic reader of my books and encouraging her friends to be, too! Love you, Bets.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
EPILOGUE
EXCERPT FROM THE MOST SCANDALOUS RAVENSDALE BY MELANIE MILBURNE
CHAPTER ONE
ISOBEL STARED AT the figures on the screen one last time. The initial stages of the business plan had been implemented successfully; target forecasts were all on course. Yes, she was confident that the board of Cassano Holdings would be satisfied with the progress she had made so far. More than satisfied, even.
After closing the lid of her laptop Isobel zipped it into its case. She was ready. She glanced at her watch. There was just one more thing she had to do before she could leave for the board meeting in the city.
Rising to her feet, she smoothed down the skirt of her navy business suit and crossed the few steps to the sofa to pick up her handbag. Her heart was thumping now, her hand shaky as she slid it inside to retrieve the small packet in its chemist’s bag.
Giving herself no more time to think she headed for the bathroom. There really was no going back.
* * *
‘Any other business?’
Orlando Cassano leant back in his chair, the gold pen in his hand catching the light as it was slowly rotated by strong, olive-skinned fingers.
With a negative murmur the board members started to gather together their papers, opening briefcases and stowing away their electronic devices.
‘Isobel?’ The dark sweep of his eyes now focussed directly on the young woman seated on the opposite side of the wide glass table. ‘Is there anything else you want to add?’
‘No.’ Isobel shook her head. ‘I think we have covered everything.’
If only that were true. Looking around, she forced herself to smile brightly at the assembled group of directors, accountants and marketing officers that comprised the UK division of Cassano Holdings. But there was no way she could meet the eye of the company CEO himself, whose piercing dark stare had been all over her ever since she had entered this boardroom and now, two hours later, still scorched across her skin. As if this wasn’t hard enough, it seemed Orlando Cassano was intent on making it a whole lot worse.
‘Bene. Then I think we can wrap this up for today.’
Orlando offered her a smile that knifed into her guts.
‘You have done well, Isobel. I’m confident that this will be a rewarding partnership.’ He paused, his brows knotting together as he watched the colour drain from her face.
‘You’ve made a sound start, Ms Spicer, no doubt about that.’ The chief financial officer gave a nod of agreement. ‘It’s early days, but if you can replicate this performance I can see us renegotiating your contract sooner than anticipated.’
‘That’s good to know.’ Isobel held on to her smile with grim tenacity. Six weeks ago, when she had signed the contract with Cassano Holdings, this news would have seen her skipping down the street. But now... Now it felt as if the world had tipped sideways and she was left clinging on to the edge.
Six weeks ago it had felt like a real gamble, signing over sixty per cent of her business to this massive corporate enterprise. But Spicer Shoes was expanding so rapidly it desperately needed a large injection of cash—and fast—and this was the only way Isobel had been able to think to do it.
She had been proud of her negotiating skills—securing the right to buy back twenty per cent of the shares and regain the all-important majority shareholding once the profit margins showed they could sustain it. In fact it had been easier than she’d thought.
But then so had falling into bed with the stunning Orlando Cassano.
Now, as she stared through the glass tabletop at the red suede ankle boot jiggling on her foot, she knew what a massive mistake
that had been.
‘Well, thank you, everybody.’ Pushing himself away from the table with the palms of his hands, Orlando waited, chivalry preventing him from standing before Isobel and the only other female present—a scarily efficient PA called Astrid—had done the same.
Finally the board members were filing out of the room, shaking Isobel’s hand and politely congratulating her, their thoughts no doubt already turning to lunch.
And suddenly they were alone. Isobel’s heart took up a thundering beat.
Orlando, tall and silent, stood with his back to the wall of windows, silhouetted against the London skyline. He looked dark and brooding and impossibly handsome, the elegant cut of his suit accentuating his considerable height and broad shoulders, the shirt white against his tanned skin. Isobel felt her throat go dry, her skin tighten against his imagined touch.
This was Orlando Cassano—a formidable businessman, a harder, colder, altogether more dangerous man than the one she had first met on the island of Jacamar. This was the man she had been prepared to meet when she had flown to his private Caribbean island to make her pitch for his company’s investment in her business.
She had been such a bag of nerves then, but excited too, full of enthusiasm and ideas. Her business plan had been honed until it shone, her speech practised to perfection. Orlando Cassano was a tough nut to crack—everybody knew that. Legend had it that beneath his urbane good looks there lurked a heart of steel. But having secured the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to meet him, through a client who happened to know him, there had been no way Isobel was going to mess it up.
Then she had met him...and all those preconceptions had vanished in a skyward-soaring heartbeat. Because the man she’d discovered on Jacamar had not been what she had been expecting at all. Arrestingly handsome, yes. But also relaxed, charming, funny. Not to mention deeply, bone-meltingly sexy.
She had noticed him straight away—how could she not have? From her seat on the little motorboat full of chattering staff she had watched the tall, commanding figure on the rickety landing stage coming closer into view. He’d been wearing faded board shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt, the breeze ruffling his dark curls, his feet bare on the sun-bleached wood. But even though he’d appeared to be someone who could undoubtedly rock the beach-bum look, Isobel had known immediately who he was. The confidence in his stance, the easy grace as he had stretched to catch the rope, the twinkle in his eye as it had caught hers—all had told her that this had to be the man she had come to see: billionaire businessman Orlando Cassano.
Isobel had waited as the other passengers disembarked, listening to their warm greetings as Orlando had helped them ashore, had assisted them with their parcels and packages, until finally it had been her turn. As she had wobbled to stand he had reached forward to take her hand, and the feel of that warm, firm grip against her skin had spread through her body like a bush fire. And it had burned there ever since...
‘So, Ms Spicer.’ Now, folding his arms across his broad chest, Orlando spoke. ‘You are a surprisingly difficult woman to get hold of.’
His voice was low and deep, with just enough of an Italian accent to reveal his heritage and curl around Isobel’s heart. But today there was no warmth to it.
‘Why do I get the impression you have been avoiding me?’
‘Not avoiding you.’ Lifting her chin, Isobel took a second to bite down hard on her lip to stop it giving her away. ‘I’ve just been busy, that’s all. I thought that was what you wanted.’
‘Busy is good. Too busy to answer my calls and emails, less so.’ Moving away from the window Orlando strode over to the door to the outer office, closing it with a soft click before returning to stand a few feet in front of Isobel. ‘I was beginning to worry.’
Isobel scanned his self-assured face for signs of this so-called worry. Nothing. But she was about to change all that.
‘Well, I hope the figures have shown you that everything is on track.’ The slight tilt of his head, coupled with his narrowed eyes, suggested this was not the answer he was looking for, but Isobel pressed on. ‘Full production is due to start in the factory in Le Marche very soon, and...’
‘I’m not talking about the factory, Isobel, or the business—as well you know.’ He closed the gap between them, his voice lethally calm. ‘I’m talking about things on a more personal level. How about we start with my invitation to dinner that you have totally ignored?’
Isobel flinched. He was too close now, and she was faced with a besuited wall of taut muscle and towering height. He was messing with her ability to think clearly, to form sensible sentences.
It was true that she had ignored the email he had sent her last week. Well, ignored was hardly the right word—she had stared at it long and hard, trying to formulate a suitable reply, before eventually giving up. In any case, she strongly suspected that after she’d told him her news he would have a severe loss of appetite. She knew she did.
But it seemed that by failing to leap at the chance of spending an evening with him she had ruffled his feathers. In front of the board members he had been polite, professionally charming. Now that politeness had turned to interrogation, and a cold stillness had settled over his handsome features—nothing like the impish devilment and sexy grin of the man she had known on Jacamar. No doubt somewhere there was a dent in that pristine pride of his—not that he would ever let her see it.
‘I didn’t reply to that email because I didn’t think there was any point.’
Orlando’s eyes narrowed further as he took a step closer to her. ‘Go on.’
Isobel swallowed down the knot in her throat. ‘I think that what happened on Jacamar...what we did... I mean...’ She faltered beneath the mocking innocence of his gaze. ‘I think from now on we should keep our relationship strictly professional.’
‘Do you, indeed?’
Another step closer and the small space between them had vanished completely. Isobel felt her knees start to wobble.
‘Yes—yes, I do.’
‘And why is that, Ms Spicer?’
He placed his hands on her shoulders, warm and firm, nailing her to the ground. Now there was no escaping the physical, sexual tidal wave that was Orlando Cassano. No mistaking the raw throb of desire that pulsed between them, nor the answering roar of blood in her ears.
Isobel held herself very still, her arms by her sides, determined to fight the intense feelings that were sweeping through her body. It would be so easy to raise her arms, link them around his neck, let herself be pulled against the taut strength of his body and satisfy the hunger she felt for him. But that way disaster lay—in fact it already had. No, she would take a second to compose herself, and then she would move away, do what she had to do.
But Orlando had other ideas about how to spend that second, and before she knew it his hands had moved to the back of her head, his fingers plundering the softness of her hair as he tipped her face up to his, seeking her lips with his own. His face blurred out of focus as he lowered his head to claim her, and suddenly he was kissing her, wasting no time before increasing the pressure and using the heated, erotic slide of his tongue to open her up to him.
It was a kiss full of heat and possessiveness and deep sexual need. A kiss that left no doubt as to where it would lead, if circumstances would let it. Isobel felt her eyes close against its force, her body instantly surrender to its power.
Orlando altered his position, sliding his leg against her thigh, pressing his arousal to her groin. ‘I’ve missed you, Isobel.’ He pulled his mouth away just far enough to groan the words against her swollen lips before angling his head in order to kiss her more deeply. Then, drawing in a deep breath he continued hoarsely, ‘And I hope you have missed me too.’
‘No!’
That split second of space was enough to bring Isobel to her senses and, bracing her hands against Orlando’s chest, she used its rock-hard strength to push herself away. The look of surprise that flashed in his eyes cut through her like a bla
de.
‘We have to stop this.’
Taking a step back, and then another, she fought to control the heaving of her chest, to stem the river of lust that was snaking its way to every part of her body.
‘I mean, it’s over—finished...’ Her voice tailed off with the effort of dragging the reluctant words up from her body. From the absurdity of trying to reject the only man she had ever truly desired. ‘We can’t do this any more.’
* * *
Orlando tugged loose the tie that was suddenly unbearably tight around his neck and, shrugging off his jacket, hurled it behind him where it hooked limply over the back of a chair. It seemed nothing was going his way at the moment.
He had been looking forward to seeing Isobel again today—had been surprised, actually, just how much. Reacquainting himself with the lovely Ms Spicer was supposed to have been the one bright spot in what he knew was going to be a frustrating and depressing few days. Now it seemed even that pleasure was going to be denied him.
He’d allowed himself an extra day in London before he had to fly to Italy to sort out his late father’s affairs. His business in the UK could be concluded pretty quickly, and the thought of spending some free time with Isobel had been a very attractive one. But, judging by the look on her face now, it was time that wasn’t going to be needed. He might as well fly to Italy this evening, get it over with, then head back to New York as fast as his private jet would take him.
But it was a grim prospect. If he had his way he would never set foot in his home town of Trevente ever again. The ancient Italian town, sited between the turquoise waters of the Adriatic and the snow-capped Sibillini Mountains, had all the picture-postcard beauty you could ask for, but it certainly held no charm for Orlando. And as for the castello that looked down on the town, and the estate and the wretched title that went with it—Marchese di Trevente—well, he wanted none of it. Even if it was his rightful inheritance.
Some inheritance. Orlando felt a fresh wave of anger roll over him. Passed to him on the recent death of the miserable lowlife of a creature who had called himself his father, the once noble and profitable estate that had been in the Cassano family for countless generations had been brought to its knees, the vineyards neglected, the farms uncared for and the many properties virtually in ruins. And that included the majestic Castello Trevente.