Bestselling Authors Collection 2012

by Trish Morey; Day Leclaire; Natalie Anderson; Brenda Jackson; Ann Voss Peterson

  She fought to free herself from his hold, but he wouldn’t let her go. “You don’t want to love me, do you?”

  “I don’t want to be controlled by love,” he corrected. “So much of my life was spent being controlled by others, by circumstance, by my family’s financial difficulties, that I fought what cannot be fought. What I wasn’t willing to admit until this moment is that love doesn’t mean surrendering control.” He looked at her then, his dark eyes filled with an emotion impossible to mistake. “It means surrendering your heart into the safekeeping of someone you love and trust more than anyone else in the world. And that I do freely. Ti amo, piccola. I love you.”

  Helpless tears flowed down her cheeks. “I don’t understand. I took away The Inferno.”

  He laced their hands together. “Stop and feel with your heart. Is it still there, or not?”

  Her breath caught. Yes. Yes, it was. She didn’t understand it. She stared in wonder at their linked hands. “I still feel it. How is that possible? I released you.”

  Sev crouched in front of her. “Gianna, you should have told us this long ago. We would have explained the truth.” Pain ripped through his gaze. “My parents never felt The Inferno for each other. My father married my mother for her fortune, not because he loved her. He loved another woman, Cara Moretti. She was his Inferno soul mate.”

  “But Aunt Laura said she felt The Inferno.”

  Sev’s mouth compressed. “I’m sure Mamma thought she did. Though Babbo never loved her, not the way she deserved. That didn’t change the fact that she adored him. I think she wanted to feel The Inferno. So she convinced herself she did. But it wasn’t true.”

  In all the years since her thirteenth birthday, not once had Gianna ever considered the possibility that her uncle had lied to her aunt. That he could have done such an awful thing to his wife. But he had. Considering how hard the knowledge hit her, it had to be far worse for Sev. Impulsively she threw her arms around his neck and wrapped him up in a fierce hug.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

  He patted her back. “I already knew most of it,” he reassured her. “I didn’t realize he’d used The Inferno to convince my mother to marry him. But it isn’t that big of a surprise, considering some of the other things he’s done.”

  The information had also hit Primo and Nonna hard, particularly her grandmother. But there had always been a steely strength buried beneath Nonna’s sweetness. “This is a happy occasion, not a sad one,” she informed her family. “We are finished here, yes? It is time for the wedding.”

  “No,” Constantine said. His hands slid from Gianna’s shoulders and he stood, folding his arms across his chest. “We’re not getting married. Not yet.”

  Gianna rose and spun to face him, panic flaring to life. “Constantine?”

  “You released me. That suggests you wanted to be released, too.”

  Her panic grew, breaking across her in great, messy waves. “No. No, that’s not true.”

  “Then why release me?”

  She took a step in his direction. “Don’t you understand? I don’t want you to marry me because you’re honor-bound. I don’t want you to marry me because of The Inferno. I want you to love me.” Her voice broke and it took her a moment to gather herself sufficiently to speak again. “I want you to love me. Just me.”

  Constantine closed his eyes. He reached for her hand and before she could guess his intentions, slipped her engagement ring from her finger. Her entire family stiffened. Francesca gasped, while Ariana murmured a broken, “Oh, no.” He ignored them all.

  “Have you never once looked at your ring?”

  Gianna stared in horror. “You mean take it off? Before we were married?”

  “Of course I mean take it off,” he said in exasperation.

  “Oh, no. It’s bad luck,” the women chimed in, practically in unison.

  He released a sigh. “Got it. Well, I chose it very, very carefully. Sev can attest to that.”

  Her cousin nodded. “It took hours. He must have gone through every ring in the entire Eternity line before he settled on this one,” he informed her.

  Constantine nodded. “That’s because all the rings have names. It’s part of what makes them so special. I needed one with the perfect name.” He tilted it so she could see the tiny script inside the band. “Read what it says.”

  She needed a moment to blink the tears away. The letters swam into focus, forming words. Before All Else…Love. Then she was crying again. “Do you really mean it?”

  “I really mean it, piccola. Honor means everything to me, you know this. But you… You are my heart and soul.” He returned the ring to her finger, this time with an attitude of permanence. “You are not Laura and I am not Dominic. It’s our love that makes this marriage honorable. Without it, there would be no honor in the vows we take.”

  Gianna flung herself into Constantine’s embrace. “I was afraid you’d feel trapped. That one day you’d resent me.”

  His arms closed around her like iron bands. “Do you remember my telling you that I don’t like taking off my shoes, not even when I relax?”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s a reason for that.” He spared her family a brief shamed look before his gaze settled on his sister, Ariana. Gianna saw compassion in his sister’s expression, along with understanding. “Growing up, there was no money. My grandmother Penelope helped out the best she could, but it wasn’t nearly enough, not for an estate the size of ours. Do you know how we survived?”

  Gianna shook her head.

  “My father traded on the Romano name.” Considering Constantine’s pride, it must have been the most difficult thing he’d ever admitted. “We lived off the charity of others, including the d’Angelos. We sold our illustrious heritage and scintillating company for the bread we ate and the beds we slept in. For loans that were never repaid.”

  “That’s why you wouldn’t come to me empty-handed.”

  He nodded. “And that’s why I don’t take off my shoes.”

  She frowned in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

  “Our visits didn’t always end well,” he explained gently. “When they didn’t, we soon learned to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. Fleeing into a cold winter night without shoes is a memorable experience. You learn very quickly not to make the same mistake twice.”

  “Oh, Constantine,” she whispered.

  He set her aside and toed off first one shoe, then the other. Crossing to the window, he opened it and tossed his shoes outside. Then he returned to her. “You are all I want. All I’ll ever want. Do you understand now, piccola?” He cupped her face between his Infernoed hands and kissed her with all the pent-up passion he possessed. “I don’t need to keep my shoes close by because I’m finally home. This is where I belong and I’m here to stay. My sense of honor bound me to you. Our love is what will keep us together.”

  Primo rose to his feet. “Salute! Alla famiglia!”

  The rest of the family picked up the cheer while Constantine swept his bride into his arms. As one they exited the room in a grand procession to the chapel, laughing and crying, their happiness spilling out in great joyous waves over those assembled in the church. Down the aisle they came.

  They were Dantes. La famiglia. And that said it all.

  One Inferno family.

  One Inferno heart.

  Soul mates found.

  Soul mates bonded—united for all time.

  UNBUTTONED BY HER MAVERICK BOSS

  Natalie Anderson

  Praise for Natalie Anderson:

  ‘Natalie Anderson is one of the most exciting voices in steamy romantic fiction writing today. Sassy, witty and emotional, her Modern Heat™ are in a class of their own…an extraordinary new talent who can blend passion, drama, humour and emotion in one unforgettable read!’

  —www.cataromance.com

  ‘MISTRESS UNDER CONTRACT is a fantastic contemporary romance full of intense emotions, funny moments, bl
azing sexual tension and moving romance; don’t miss it!’

  —Pink Heart Society

  ‘Natalie Anderson’s HIS MISTRESS BY ARRANGEMENT is a charming romance of childhood friends reconnecting. It’s both fun and flirty, and conveys the wonderful feeling of finding someone you can truly be yourself with.’

  —RT Book Reviews

  About the Author

  Possibly the only librarian who got told off herself for talking too much, NATALIE ANDERSON decided writing books might be more fun than shelving them—and, boy, is it that! Especially writing romance—it’s the realisation of a lifetime dream kick-started by many an afternoon spent devouring Grandma’s Mills & Boon®…

  She lives in New Zealand, with her husband and four gorgeous-but-exhausting children. Swing by her website any time—she’d love to hear from you: www.natalie-anderson.com

  Kathleen Anderson, Kath Hadfield, Grandma.

  Twenty years have passed since you left us,

  but you know I still have your library of M & B—

  and I’m adding my own to it now. Wish you were here

  so I could show you. But I know you know,

  and you know you live on in our hearts. Always will.

  Thank you for giving me the belief in everlasting love.

  CHAPTER ONE

  TIME stood still for no man. And Sophy Braithwaite didn’t stand still either.

  She tapped her toes on the concrete floor. Slowly at first, just releasing a smidge of the energy pushing under her skin, but after a while the small rapping sound sped up.

  The receptionist had directed her straight up the stairs to the office—the sign on the door ensured she’d found the one the woman meant. So she was in the right place at the right time.

  Waiting.

  She turned and studied the pictures on the wall beside her. Picturesque scenes of Italian countryside—she figured they were Cara’s choice. Her assessment and appreciation took less than a minute. Then she looked again at the monstrosity masquerading as the desk. Good thing she wasn’t into corporate espionage or fraud. She’d had ample time to rifle through files for sensitive info. Mind you, given the mess it was in, she wouldn’t even find anything as useful as a pen in there. The papers were piled high in dangerously unstable towers. The unopened mail had long since filled the in-tray and now cascaded across the computer keyboard. Cara hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said she’d left it in a mess. If anything she’d been understating the case.

  ‘I’ve just not had my head there and it all got away from me. I feel so terrible now with this happening,’ she’d said.

  ‘This’ was the early arrival of her baby. Six weeks premature, the tiny sweetie was still in hospital and Cara was hollow-eyed and anxious. The last thing she needed was to be worrying about the part-time admin job she did for a local charity.

  Sophy’s irritation with the situation spiked. Where was he, then? This Lorenzo Hall—supposed hotshot of the wine industry and darling of the fundraising divas—the CEO of this chaos?

  ‘Lorenzo’s so busy at the moment. With Alex and Dani away he’s dealing with everything on his own.’ Cara had sounded so concerned for him when Sophy’s sister, Victoria, had handed the phone to her. ‘It would be just brilliant if you could go in there and stop him worrying about the Whistle Fund at least.’

  Well, Sophy wasn’t here to stop Lorenzo Hall from worrying, she was here to stop Cara worrying.

  She realised she’d been subconsciously tapping in time to a rhythmic thunking sound coming from a distance. As if someone were using a hammer or something but speeding up, then stopping, then starting again. She shook her head free of the annoyance and looked around at the chaos again. It would take a bit of time to sort through. She wished she could say no. But then, she never said no. Not when someone asked for help like this. And didn’t they all know it. She’d arrived back in New Zealand less than a month ago, yet her family had managed to fill her schedule to bursting already. But she’d let them, passively agreeing to it all. So much for becoming more assertive and ring fencing even just some time for her own work.

  She knew they saw no change, and wasn’t she acting as if there weren’t—with her ‘yes, of course’ here and ‘sure’ there? Tacitly acknowledging she had nothing better to do. Or, at least, nothing as important as what they were asking.

  But she did.

  While she loved to help them out, there was something else she loved to do. Her heart beat faster as she thought of it as ‘work’. She badly wanted to prove it could be just that. But to make a go of it, she needed time.

  So she really didn’t want to be standing here waiting for anybody—certainly not some guy who couldn’t even seem to organise his own temp. The same boss who had Cara calling her from her hospital bed asking if she could help out. If her help really was needed, then okay, but she wasn’t going to wait here for another twenty minutes. She glanced at her watch again. Ordinarily looking at it brought a tingle of pleasure—fine little vintage piece that it was. She’d found it in a flea market in South London one day. With a new old strap she’d found at another market and a trip to the watch doctor, it worked beautifully. It was definitely not running fast.

  The thudding impinged into her brain again, stirring a dormant memory from school days.

  No. Surely not?

  She stood, walked across the office and right round behind the desk to the window. Looked straight down to the asphalt yard at the back of the warehouse. She inhaled some much-needed cool air into her lungs.

  But yes. Basketball.

  Lorenzo Hall—she just knew it was him—out there having himself some fun. If he’d been playing with even one other person she might have understood it—that he’d wanted to finish the game before seeing her. But there was no opponent to beat. He was playing alone—while she was waiting for a scheduled meeting with him. Long minutes up in his office—and it was for his benefit.

  The irritation rose to a rolling boil. How come no one realised her time was precious too? She walked out of the office, her high heels clipping quickly down the stairs. She passed the receptionist, who was running in the other direction with the cord of her phone headset trailing after her.

  ‘Will Mr Hall be long, do you think?’ Sophy asked with extreme politeness.

  The receptionist stopped, but looked harassed. ‘He’s not up there?’

  Sophy gave the woman a cool stare. She didn’t know? Wasn’t she his receptionist? Where was the efficiency in this place—off on a holiday to Mars? She inhaled and crisped up even more. ‘Obviously not.’

  The frown on the receptionist’s face deepened. ‘I’m sure I saw him earlier. You could look and see if he’s up on the third floor or try out the back.’ With that she was gone, hurrying to do whatever it was that was so urgent.

  Sophy continued down the stairs and went through the doorway behind Reception. This was a meeting that had been arranged two days ago. He might be the newly crowned king of the wine exporters, but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out how he’d managed it. Not when he couldn’t even make it to a meeting on time. She found what had to be the door leading out to the yard. She paused for a second, squared her shoulders and then turned the handle, pulling the heavy wood back.

  From what she’d seen at the window upstairs she’d known what she was about to face—but she hadn’t accounted for the effect it would have on her up close. She swallowed, momentarily speechless.

  He had his back to her—a mightily broad back it was too, and very bronzed. Well, it would be from all the time he obviously spent out here—shirtless.

  The fire that blazed through her was surely all due to anger.

  The baseboard and basket were on a stand on the far side of the asphalt square. He had the ball in hand, feet apart, his knees slightly bent as he readied to take the shot.

  Sophy waited for the exact moment. Just as his body moved to shoot the ball, she called—raising her normal volume more than a fraction, and using what
her speech and drama teacher had referred to as ‘the tone’.

  ‘Lorenzo Hall?’

  Needless to say, he didn’t make the basket. Sophy smiled. But then, in an instant, it died on her lips.

  Even with the three or so metres between them she could feel the scorching heat of him. He turned his head, looked her over—a quick, slicing glance with the darkest eyes she’d ever seen. Then he turned back to the wretched basket.

  That had been all he needed to sum her up? Sophy wasn’t used to being dismissed so quickly. She might not have lived up to her family’s stellar success in the legal fraternity, but she did okay in the appearance stakes. Always immaculate. Always appropriate. Presentation had been drilled into her for so long it was second nature now. So she knew she looked more than acceptable in her baby-blue linen skirt and pressed white shirt. Her lipstick was muted but smooth and her face wasn’t shiny. Her one-style-only hair would be in place—she didn’t even have to try for that to happen.

  The ball had bounced a couple of times. He barely had to move to retrieve it. Once it was back in his broad hands he turned and gave her another look—even more pointed. Then he turned back to face the baseboard, took careful aim and replayed the shot—landing it this time.

  Sophy would have turned and walked if she wasn’t too angry to move. So that was the way of it, huh? His little game of by-myself-basketball was more important than a meeting scheduled with her. She’d heard nothing but positives about this guy’s charitable organisation. Had heard the rumours about his own background and his meteoric rise—marvellous, wasn’t it, people said, that someone with a background like that could become such a success?

  Well, Sophy wasn’t about to patronise the selfish jerk. ‘Are we meeting any time soon?’ She refused to offer to come back at another time—bit back the conciliatory words by pushing her jaws together. She wasn’t going to put herself out at all for him.