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Dark Masquerade
Dark Masquerade Extended Epilogue
Revenge Marriage Sneak Peak
Starting Over A Dark Masquerade Extra
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I thought I was going to pick up a toy for my little’s girl’s birthday when we went to the toy store that day. I got that and a hell of a lot more.
Joy was the customer service rep my daughter invited to her little birthday lunch. They hit it off right away.
The fire inside me had been extinguished, or so I thought, it began to smolder for Joy that afternoon.
After only knowing the young beauty for less than an hour, I asked her to come live with us and be my daughter’s nanny. And to my surprise, she accepted.
Once I had her within my walls, I couldn’t think about anything other than getting my hands on her, using her body to quench the fire that had grown inside me. Taking her in every way imaginable and making her beg for more!
So, I went to her and made her an offer I hoped she couldn’t refuse…
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Dark Masquerade
A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance
By Michelle Love
©Copyright 2017 by
Michelle Love- All rights
Reserved
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights are reserved.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
When award-winning writer Elliana Moretti is hired by billionaire philanthropist Aldo Costanza to write his biography, she travels to his secluded mansion outside Venice to interview him. Over the course of six weeks of intensive one-on-one collaborations, an attraction between them emerges, and one night, that attraction develops into a full-blown fling, erotic and intense. The night leaves Elli feeling as if she has been unprofessional and she tells Aldo that while she enjoyed the night, it can never happen again.
Aldo accepts this with seeming good grace, but one night, he asks her to escort him to a society party, where she is stunned to meet an old friend, Indio Navaro—her high school crush and noted bad boy billionaire. Indio and Aldo seem acquainted, if a little reserved with each other, and Elli wonders what the story is between them. Aldo is more than happy to trash Indio to Elli later that night, telling her that Indio was responsible for breaking up one of Aldo’s relationships with a girl who later ended up murdered.
Elli is horrified, but Aldo’s story doesn’t seem to fit with how she remembers Indio from school.
Indio approaches Elli in a café in Venice, and curious, she agrees to have lunch with him. Elli’s old crush is charming and appears genuinely interested in her. Elli begins to doubt Aldo’s story. Soon, she and Indio are spending more time together, to Aldo’s great jealousy, and Elli finds herself giving her body, her trust, and her heart to Indio. But when Elli finds she is being stalked, she has to wonder whether Indio is indeed more dangerous that she could ever have expected. Has she fallen in love with a killer …or her savior?
Does she trust her client, Aldo, or does she follow her heart and believe Indio when he tells her that Aldo is the one she should be afraid of?
Set in the swirling, colorful romance of Venice’s Carnival, Elli has to figure which one of her admirers plays the best game in an erotic but deadly Masquerade …
Venice, Italy
December
Elliana Moretti pulled her too-thin coat around her as she hurried over the bridges and through the small streets of Venice to work. An ice storm had blown through the city, and as usual, Elli had been completely unprepared for it.
At twenty-eight, Elli had made a name for herself as a tenacious investigative journalist, focused entirely on her career. Her beauty was useful, getting her through the door of places she might otherwise have been refused from, but once she had her prey on her hook, her intelligence and talent were what most people admired about her. Vivienne Marche, publishing maven, had seen those qualities when Elli had applied for an internship with her. Elli had worked for Vivienne for five years at their San Francisco office before they both relocated back to Elli’s hometown to start the new magazine.
Today, the magazine, a women-led political and social monthly, was hosting a lunch for Aldo Costanza, an American-Italian philanthropist billionaire who had recently relocated to Venice from Rome. Vivienne had told Elli that the man was thinking of investing heavily in the magazine.
“It would mean the magazine could go international.” Vivienne was excited. Elli could see that. “It would mean I could send my top journalist abroad to dig out the stories she really wants to write,” Vivienne added, with a meaningful look at a grinning Elli.
“Well, in that case …” Elli chuckled, enthused by her boss’s excitement.
Now, as Elli walked briskly through the frozen Venice streets, she was trying to compile in her head a list of stories she had wanted to go deep into and the possibilities that lay ahead. She was so lost in thought that she didn’t see the car as she walked across the road. Someone shouted a warning, and she looked up to see the car bearing down on her. She jumped back and slipped, crashing to the cold, hard ground and slamming her head against the stone. The car skimmed past her without stopping.
For a second, dazed, she lay there, head whirling, until she felt someone crouch down beside her. “Are you all right?”
Elli pushed herself into a sitting position, still stunned. A man peered down at her. “You’re bleeding, Bella.”
He pulled a clean, white handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it to her temple. “Should I call an ambulance?”
Elli was horrified and tried to get up. “No, I’m fine. Thank you for stopping to help me. It was just a fall …” She swallowed hard when she saw the amount of blood on the man’s handkerchief and her head whirled.
“Sweet one, I think we should go get you checked out anyway …you might need stitches.”
In one swift movement, he swept her up into his arms and was carrying her toward his huge, black Mercedes. Elli wanted to protest, but she couldn’t form the words. God, her head was killing her …damn, what if she’d cracked her skull? Today, of all days? Of anyone, Elli would hate to let Vivienne down; her boss was like her big sister as well as her mentor and her heroine.
The man put her in the back of his car and got in beside her, calling an order to his driver. He cradled her in his arms. Elli felt her body get cold—was she in shock? It was just a fall, goddamn it …but her head whirled and she felt faint and nauseous. Her companion stroked her hair back from the wound.
“Sweetheart, you must stay awake for me. What’s your name?”
“Elliana.”
“A name as beautiful as its owner.”
He had a nice voice, she thought fuzzily. But now there were black spots in her vision and her chest felt tight.
“Elliana, don’t faint on me now …”
His voice faded into the recesses of her memory as she slipped away into darkness.
Elli woke on a gurney in a hospital room. She blinked a couple o
f times and felt pain sear through her skull. She moaned quietly, then heard a scrape of a chair on linoleum.
“Elli? Welcome back.”
Turning her head caused a jolt of pain that nearly drew the curtains back over her eyes once more.
“Stay still,” the voice warned, coming closer until the face attached to it swam into view.
Elli squinted, making out dark hazel eyes, stubble, and light brown hair cropped close to his head. He looked vaguely familiar. Somewhere at the back of her battered brain, she also registered that he was seriously good looking, but it hurt too much to put that into any kind of context.
The man leaned down, bringing those warm eyes that much closer, and gently brushed her cheek with his knuckle. Heat flared through her for a moment, bright enough to dislodge the dizziness. “Stay still, Bella,” he repeated softly. “You have a bad concussion.”
“What happened?” she asked in confusion.
“You were very nearly hit by a car. It could have been far worse, but you have a severe concussion, Bella,” he repeated. “They’ve stitched your head wound. You’ll be okay, but you’ll have to stay here for a day or two.”
Elli sat up in horror, ignoring the pull of the I.V. tube in her arm. “No …no, I can’t. I have to work. I have to be there today.” She could feel herself starting to panic, and he sat on the side of her bed and took her cold hand in his large, warm one. Again, there was a pulse of heat that moved through her body like a slow-burning flame.
“Sweet one, let me call your workplace—where do you work?”
. “Il Mondo Italia,” she rasped. “We’re a ...”
“Magazine, yes I know,” he said, grinning. “I’m a subscriber.”
“You are?”
He laughed. “Of course. And as you are Elliana, you must be Elliana Moretti. Your work is the reason I subscribe.”
She gaped at him. “That’s not true.”
“Hand on my heart. Hi, Elliana Moretti …I’m Aldo Constanza.”
Vivienne Marche’s eyes grew huge as she saw her best friend and top journalist, Elli, complete with a bandage wrapped around her head and a bruised, pale face, being escorted into the magazine’s offices by Aldo Constanza. Ordinarily, any unexpected appearance by Aldo would have been cause for scrambling in the office, but Vivienne presently had no interest in anything but her friend.
“Elli!” She jumped out of her seat and rushed around to carefully embrace the woman who she called sister. “What happened?”
Aldo greeted her warmly before Elli could say anything. “Vivienne, how wonderful to see you again. This little one insisted on bringing me today, despite her accident. Elli, please sit down before you fall down.”
“Accident? What accident?” Vivienne demanded, easing Elli into a seat and hovering beside her.
“She only just missed being struck by a car,” Aldo explained. “Her head took the brunt of her narrow escape.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” exclaimed Vivienne in horror, very nearly pulling Elli into a bearhug before realizing she might have other, unseen injuries. She contented herself instead with taking Elli’s hand and holding onto it tightly.
Aldo nodded at the head bandage. “She was indisposed.”
“The pavement has a dent in it,” Elli joked wearily. “No major damage done to this hard head.”
In spite of her attempt at lightheartedness, Vivienne could see the embarrassment in Elli’s eyes. She pressed Elli’s fingers as Aldo continued. “She has a severe concussion, and I think she should have gone straight home from the hospital, but she insisted on bringing me here.”
Vivienne’s heart warmed. That was just like Elli. She pressed her lips to Elli’s temple. “You are a peach,” she said. “But I’m sending you home right now, El. I’ll arrange a cab.”
“No, please. I insist my driver take her home.” Aldo was firm, and so in a few minutes, Vivienne was tucking Elli into the warm backseat of Aldo Constanza’s limousine, lingering worriedly in the door to admonish,
“You take as long as you need, El. I don’t want you back until you’re well.”
Elli smiled gratefully at her. “I’m so sorry about this, Viv.”
“Don’t be silly.” Vivienne leaned in closer, “If anything, you’ve broken the ice with Constanza …it’s just a shame you had to do it with your head.”
Elli chuckled at her boss’s grin. “Anything to help, boss.”
It turned out billionaires were fussbudgets. Or, at least, this one was. Aldo Costanza insisted on carrying Elli upstairs. She barely had time to deal with the flare of heat, this time all through her body, before he was unlocking her door and asking where her bedroom was. It was too surreal, being tucked into her bed by a handsome billionaire, all the while her head spinning.
She half expected him to take a seat beside her bed and sit some kind of guard as she slept, but instead, he apologized profusely, saying he had a meeting he couldn’t rearrange, but that he would check up on her soon. After more passionate apologies, he finally left, but not before making sure she had water, aspirin, and a phone within arm’s reach.
Once he was gone, Elli lay in bed for a long while, but couldn’t sleep. The exhaustion was there, but it warred with her ever-active mind. Even a concussion couldn’t stop Elli from overthinking things. She crawled out from under the covers that Aldo had fastidiously tucked around her, cranked up the heat, and made herself some tea—some kind of blend Vivienne said was good for relaxing. By the time the water boiled, her legs were wobbly and she was glad to curl up on the couch with her favorite blanket, listening to the wind outside her windows.
Her apartment was tiny, but she didn’t care about that—the view from the windows over Venice’s Lagoon made it worth the squeeze. Resting her aching head against a pillow, she saw the ice and fog covering the gondoliers, jostling together at their moorings, the usually crowded streets almost empty. It would be Christmas soon, but if this weather held up, it would be a subdued event. Elli liked to walk the streets at night during the festive period—being alone in the world had never bothered her much. She would eat food from street vendors and soak in the atmosphere, thinking about her mother who had died when Elli was only eighteen. Her father had been long gone; Elli didn’t even know who or where he was. And her older brother, Enzo, had died the year previously from the same cancer that took their mother.
Sadness touched Elli as Enzo filled her mind. Nearly a decade older, he had been her hero—companion, teacher, protector—or at least, he had taught her how to protect herself. He had been an architect, designing some of the most beautiful hotels in Italy with his best friend, Indio. The sadness that Enzo’s memory always brought Elli was gently sidelined by a warm rush through her veins when she thought suddenly of Indio.
Indio Navaro had been her first crush—her first love. She closed her eyes now and thought of his dark curls, his swarthy caramel skin, and his bright green eyes. She remembered the first time she had seen him when she was just nine and he was eighteen. God, he had looked like an Adonis, so beautiful, with huge eyes, a perfectly symmetrical face, and a hard, toned body. No teenage acne or awkwardness for Indio, and even at her young age, Elli had known she would never again see such a beautiful man in her life. And he was beautiful—handsome wasn’t strong enough word for Indio Navaro—not just physically perfect, but the kindest, sweetest, strongest man she had ever known. For his part, Indio had stayed true to the code—never fool around with your best friend’s sister—but he had adored Elli too and would spend hours with her, even when Enzo wasn’t there. They were the moon and the sun to each other.
But then, when Elli was twenty, a couple of years after her mother had died, something had happened between Enzo and Indio—something neither of them would ever talk about—and when Indio had come to say goodbye to Elli, her heart had been broken.
“Please don’t go,” she had begged him. “I love you so much, Indio. I always have.”
Indio had looked shattered, and fo
r a moment, she had thought he might kiss her. Instead, he had leaned his forehead against hers, and to her astonishment, she had felt tears on his cheeks. “Elli Bella, I …” He had choked on the words and, not caring anymore about what was right, she had pressed her lips to his.
“Tell me you love me …please, Indio, say it just once. I know you do. I know it in my soul …”
Indio had grabbed her head and kissed her roughly, then pulled away, his hands dropping from her, his eyes closed. “I can’t. I’m sorry, cara mia, I can’t.”
And then he was gone, and Elli had curled up into a little ball, her heart destroyed. When Enzo, pale and hollow-eyed came to find her, she hadn’t attacked him or blamed him. He was her brother after all.
Indio didn’t love me enough, Elli told herself for years, trying to mend her heart, but something had always told her that wasn’t the truth. But when Enzo had died, her chance of finding out what had really happened between him and Indio was gone. Indio had left Venice and gone to Rome. Elli made herself stay away from searching for him on the internet or reading about him in magazines. She knew he was a big deal in Rome and abroad, his property nous and artistic aesthetic making him a billionaire. He had dated a string of beautiful women and married and divorced a former Miss World within a year, but lately, had disappeared—gone to ground.
Elli sighed and pushed the thoughts of Indio away. She was a master of that; it was just in quiet moments like this one that she wished he was here with her, watching old movies and cuddling under a blanket like back in the old days. In bed alone, sometimes Elli would think about what it might have been like to have sex with him, his big body covering her tiny one, his mouth on hers.
You are twenty-eight and still behaving like a lovesick teenager. Maybe it was the concussion that made her feel so melancholy. She dragged her thoughts back to Aldo Constanza and smiled. What a sweetheart of a man. His gaze had been intense on hers a couple of times, and her stomach had curled, warming at being so obviously admired.
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