The Sicilian’s Marriage Arrangement

by Lucy Monroe

  She didn’t fear being accosted by one of the many male guests at her grandfather’s party. She was aware that the most likely scenario would be her standing alone and watching others kiss. Her stomach tightened at the thought of watching Luciano locking lips with some gorgeous woman. And there were plenty of them downstairs.

  Rich businessmen attracted beautiful women who had a chic she envied and could not hope to emulate.

  She wasn’t worried about leaving Luciano to his own devices. Even now, she had no doubt he was no longer sitting alone while he waited for her. He might not even wait at the table, but expect her to come find him once she returned downstairs. Now that his guilt had been appeased, she would no longer qualify for his undivided attention.

  Going back downstairs at this moment in time would serve no purpose other than to further underscore the humiliating fact that she did not fit amidst her grandfather’s guests. She might have been born to his world, but she could never feel like she belonged in it. Perhaps because she had never felt like she belonged anywhere.

  From the clock, her gaze shifted to the plaque hanging on the wall. It was a saying by Eleanor Roosevelt and it reminded her that she might not be able to help her shyness, but she did not have to be craven as well.

  Luciano became aware of Hope instantly when she arrived once again in the periphery of his vision. She said and did nothing, but the sweet scent he associated with her reached out to surround him. He turned from the Scandinavian cover model who had approached him within seconds of Hope’s disappearance from their table.

  “You’re back.”

  Her gaze flicked to the model and back to him. “Yes.” She reached her hand out, a small white card between her delicate thumb and forefinger. “Here’s the contact information for the shelter.”

  He took it and tucked it into the inner pocket of his formal dinner jacket. “Grazie.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Suddenly noisemakers started blaring around them and a ten second count down began in the other room. The model joined in as did the other guests surrounding him and Hope. Hope did as well, but an expression he did not understand crossed her features. Why should it make her sad to ring in the New Year?

  He could not look away from the almost tragic apprehension turning her lavender eyes so dark, they appeared black. The blonde put her hand on his arm and he realized that men and women were pairing off. Ah, the traditional kiss to bring in the New Year with luck. And in a split second of clarity he understood Hope’s sadness and that he had a choice. He could kiss the sexy, extremely world savvy woman to his left, or he could kiss Hope.

  Her expression was carefully guarded, but he could tell that she expected him to kiss the model. She had grown accustomed to neglect and although she seemed more than willing to talk to him, she was terribly shy around others. She expected to kiss no one. And the expectation had put that sadness in her eyes. It was not right.

  She was gentle and generous. What was the matter with the men of Boston that they overlooked this delicate but exotic bloom?

  He shook off the blonde’s hold and stepped toward Hope. Her eyes grew wide and her mouth stopped moving in the countdown, freezing in a perfect little O. Placing his hands on both sides of her face, he tilted it up for his kiss. A cacophony of Ones sounded around him and then he lowered his mouth to hers. He would kiss her gently, nothing too involved.

  He did not want to frighten her, but he owed her this small concession for having made her cry. Buying furniture for her women’s shelter would not cut it. That was money, but the insult had been personal and this was personal atonement.

  His lips touched hers and she trembled. He gently tasted her with his tongue. She was sweet and her lips were soft. They were still parted and he decided to go a step further. He wanted to taste the warmth and wetness of her mouth. So he did.

  And it was good, better than he would have thought possible.

  Her tongue tentatively brushed against his and heat surged through his male flesh. He wanted more, so he took it, moving one hand to her back and pressing her into him. She went completely pliant against him, molding her body to his like molten metal over a cast figure. Using the hand on her back, he lifted her off the floor until her face was even with his own and he could kiss her as urgently as he wanted to do.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and moaned, kissing him back with a passion that more than matched his own.

  The small noises emanating from her drove him on.

  He deepened the kiss further, oblivious now to his surroundings.

  He wanted to do more than kiss her. He wanted to strip her naked and taste every centimeter of her delectable little body. The library. He could take her back to the library.

  His hand was actually moving to catch her knees so he could carry her off when a booming voice broke through the daze of his lascivious thoughts.

  “With a kiss like that, you’re both bound to have more good luck than a Chinese dragon.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  LUCIANO’S head snapped up at the sound of Joshua Reynolds’ humor-filled voice and reality came back with a painful thud. Hope was still clinging to him, her expression dazed, but the rest of the room was very much aware. And what they were aware of was that he’d been caught kissing the host’s granddaughter like a horny teenager on his first date with an older woman.

  He set Hope down with more speed than finesse, putting her away from him with a brusque movement.

  She stared up at him, eyes darkened with passion and still unfocused. “Luciano?”

  “Didn’t know you two knew each other so well.” A crafty expression entered Reynolds’ eyes that Luciano did not like.

  “It is not a requirement to know someone well to share a New Year’s kiss,” he replied firmly, wanting to immediately squelch any ideas the old man might have regarding Luciano and Hope as anything other than passing acquaintances.

  “Is that right?” Reynolds turned to Hope. “What do you say, little girl?”

  Hope stared at her grandfather as if she did not recognize him. Then her eyes sought out Luciano once again, the question in them making him defensive.

  He frowned at her. “She is your granddaughter. You know as well as anyone how little I have seen of her over the years.” His eyes willed Hope to snap out of her reverie and affirm his stand to her grandfather.

  At first, she just looked confused, but then her expression seemed to transform with the speed of light. She went from dazed to hurt to horrified, but within a second she was doing her best to look unaffected.

  It was not a completely successful effort with her generous lips swollen from the consuming kiss.

  She forced a smile that hurt him to see because it was so obviously not the direction those lips wanted to go. “It wasn’t anything, Grandfather. Less than nothing.” She spun on her heel without looking back at Luciano. “I’ve got to check on the champagne.” And she was gone.

  He watched her go, feeling he should have handled that situation better and wishing he’d never come to the party in the first place.

  “It didn’t look like less than nothing to me, but I’m an old man. What do I know?”

  The speculative tone of Joshua Reynolds’ voice sent an arrow of wariness arcing through Luciano. He remembered the gossip he had overheard earlier. Rumors often started from a kernel of truth. The old man could forget trying to buy him as a husband for his shy granddaughter.

  She might kiss with more passion than many women made love, but Luciano Ignazio di Valerio was not for sale.

  He had no intention of marrying for years yet and when he did, it wouldn’t be to an American woman with her culture’s typically overinflated views on personal independence. He wanted a nice traditional Sicilian wife.

  His family expected it.

  Even if kissing Hope Bishop was as close to making love with his clothes on as he’d ever come.

  Hope slammed the door of her bedroom behind her and then spun around to loc
k it for good measure.

  It was after three o’clock and the last guest had finally departed. She’d made herself stay downstairs for the remainder of the party because she was guiltily aware her grandfather had arranged it for her benefit rather than business. He’d said as much when he told her he planned to have a New Year’s Eve bash at the Boston mansion.

  She wished he had not bothered. At least part of her did. The other part, the sensual woman that lurked inside her was reveling in her first taste of passion.

  Luciano had kissed her. Like he meant it. She was fairly certain the whole thing had started as a pity kiss, but somewhere along the way, he’d actually gotten involved. So had she, but that was not so surprising.

  She’d wanted to kiss the Sicilian tycoon for the better part of five years. It had been an impossible fantasy…until tonight. Then a combination of events had led to a kiss so devastating, it would haunt her dreams for years to come.

  She plopped down onto the side of her bed and grabbed a throw pillow, hugging it to herself.

  He had tasted wonderful.

  Had felt hard and infinitely masculine against her.

  Had smelled like the lover she desired above all others.

  And then he had thrust her from him like a disease ridden rodent. She punched the cushion in her lap. He had been enjoying the kiss. She was sure of it, but then her grandfather had interrupted and Luciano had acted embarrassed to be caught kissing her.

  Okay, maybe it did nothing for his sophisticated image to be caught taking pleasure in the kiss of an awkward twenty-three-year-old virgin who never dated. But surely it wasn’t such a tragedy either. Not so bad that he had to shove her away like something he’d found under his shoe in a cow pasture.

  The tears that had seemed to plague her for one reason or another all evening once again welled hot and stinging in her eyes. He’d made her look like a complete fool. She’d been forced to smile while cringing inside at the teasing and downright ribald comments tossed her way for the last three hours.

  People were saying that she’d thrown herself at him. That he’d had to practically manhandle her to get her off of him. That as desperate spinsters went, she had won the golden cup.

  Wetness splashed down her cheeks.

  She’d heard it all while circulating among the guests. People had gone out of their way to speak loudly enough so she could not help overhearing. Some had made jokes to her face. A few of the male guests had offered to take on where Luciano had left off.

  Grandfather remained blissfully ignorant, having closeted himself in the study with a businessman from Japan after the official New Year’s toast. If she had anything to say about it, he would remain that way.

  Luciano, the rat, had left the party within minutes of his humiliating rejection of her.

  Even the joy of being kissed with such heady abandon by the one man she had ever wanted could not overshadow her degradation at his hands in front of a room filled with her grandfather’s guests. She hated Luciano di Valerio. She really did.

  She hoped she never saw him again.

  “The shares are not for sale.”

  Luciano studied the man who had just spoken, looking for a chink in the old man’s business armor, but Reynolds was a wily campaigner and not a speck of interest or emotion reflected in his gray eyes.

  “I will pay you double what you gave my uncle for them.” He’d already offered a fifty-percent return on investment. To no avail.

  Reynolds shook his head. “I don’t need more money.”

  The words were said with just enough emphasis to make a very pertinent point. Whatever Joshua Reynolds wanted in exchange for those shares, it wasn’t money and he could afford to turn down Luciano’s best offer.

  “Then, signor, what is that you do need?” he asked, taking the bait.

  “A husband for my granddaughter.”

  Impossible! “Che cosa?”

  Joshua leaned back in his chair, his hands resting lightly on his oversize executive desk. “I’m getting on in years. I want to make sure I leave Hope taken care of. Regardless of what young women these days believe, and young men when it comes to it—that means seeing her married.”

  “I do not think your granddaughter would agree with you.”

  “Getting her to agree is your job. The girl doesn’t know what is best for her. She spends all her free time working for the women’s shelter, or the local animal shelter, or doing things like answering phones for the annual MDA telethon. She’s a worse bleeding heart than her grandmother ever was.”

  And it was unlikely she found the slightest understanding from the ruthless old bastard sitting across from Luciano. “Are you saying that Hope doesn’t know you’re trying to buy her a husband?”

  “I’m not interested in discussing what my granddaughter knows or doesn’t know. If you want those shares, you’re going to have to marry her to get them.”

  The shares in question were for the original family-held Valerio Shipping, a company started by his great-grandfather and passed through each successive generation. While it rankled, having a nonfamily member holding a significant chunk of stock was not the end of the world.

  He stood. “Keep the shares. I am not for sale.”

  “But Valerio Shipping is.”

  The words stopped Luciano at the door. He turned. “It is not. I would never countenance the sale of my family’s company.” Although his interests in Valerio Shipping represented a miniscule portion of his business holdings, his family pride would never allow him to offload it.

  “You won’t be able to stop me.”

  “My uncle did not hold majority stock in the company.” But the fool had sold the large block he had held to Joshua Reynolds rather than approach his nephew when gambling debts had made him desperate for cash.

  “No, but with the proxy of some of your distant cousins as well as the stock I have procured from those willing to sell, I do control enough shares in the company to do what I damn well please with it.”

  “I do not believe you.” Many of those distant cousins had emigrated, but he could not believe they were so lost to family pride as to give an outsider their proxy or worse, sell their portion of Valerio Shipping to him.

  His uncle he could almost believe. The man was addicted to wine, women and casinos. He had the self-discipline of a four-year-old and that was probably giving the man more credit than he deserved.

  Reynolds tossed a report on the desk. “Read it.”

  Luciano hid his mounting fury as he crossed the room and then lifted the report to read. He did not sit down, but flipped through the pages while still standing. Outraged pride grew with each successive page and coalesced into lava like fury when he read the final page.

  It was a recommendation by Joshua Reynolds to merge with Valerio Shipping’s number one competitor. If that were not bad enough, it was clear that while the other company would maintain their business identity, Valerio Shipping would cease to exist.

  He tossed the report onto the gleaming surface of the walnut desk. “You are not trying to buy Hope a husband, you are trying to blackmail one.”

  Reynolds shrugged broad shoulders, not even slightly stooped by his more than seventy years. “Call it what you like, but if you want to keep Valerio Shipping in the di Valerio family and operating business under the Valerio name, you will marry my granddaughter.”

  “What is the matter with her that you have to resort to such tactics to get her a husband?”

  For the first time since Luciano had entered the other man’s office, Reynolds’ guard dropped enough to let his reaction show. Luciano’s question had surprised him.

  It was in the widening of his eyes, the beetling of his steel gray brows. “There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s a little shy and a bleeding heart, I admit, but for all that she’ll make a fine wife.”

  “To a husband you have to blackmail into marriage?”

  In many ways, he was a traditional Sicilian male, but Joshua Reynolds made Lu
ciano look like a modern New Man. Hope’s grandfather was more than old-fashioned in his views. He was prehistoric.

  “Don’t tell me, you were waiting for love eternal to get married, man?” Derision laced Reynolds’ voice. “You’re thirty, not some young pup still dreaming of fairy tales and fantasies. And you’re plenty old enough to be thinking about a wife and family. Your own father is gone, so cannot advise you, but I’m here to tell you, you don’t want to leave it too late to enjoy the benefits of family life.”

  Not only did Luciano find the very idea of taking advice from a man trying to blackmail him offensive, but Joshua Reynolds was the last person to hand out platitudes about enjoying family life. He’d spent his seventy plus years almost completely oblivious to his own family.

  “I’m offering you a straightforward business deal. Take it or leave it.” The tone of Reynolds’ voice left no doubt how seriously he felt about following through on his threats.

  “And if I leave it my family company ceases to exist.”

  The other man looked unconcerned by the reminder. “No company lasts forever.”

  Gritting his teeth, Luciano forced himself not to take the other man by the throat and shake him. He never lost control and he would not give his adversary the benefit of doing so now.

  “I will have to think about it.”

  “You do that and think about this while you are at it. My granddaughter left two weeks ago for a tour of Europe in the company of four other girls, a tour guide and five young men. Her last letter mentioned one of them several times. David something or other. Apparently, they are developing quite the friendship. If you want Hope to come to the marriage bed untouched, you’d better do something about it soon.”

  Hope peered through the viewer of her state-of-the-art digital camera that had been a parting gift from her grandfather before her trip. She knelt down on one knee, seeking the perfect shot of the Parthenon in the distance. The waning evening light cast the ancient structure in purplish shadows she had been determined to catch on disc.