The Italian Billionaire's Disgraced Fiancée

by Betsy Swann

  ‘You seem to be worried about your lover’s reaction. Hetherington might think…,’ he began, but she swiftly interrupted.

  ‘You’re mistaken,’ she said. ‘Nick and I don’t have this kind of relationship, and I’m not worried about anything. On the contrary, it’ll be fun to indulge in a bit of design again for a while.’

  Enzo didn’t believe for one second that she didn’t care about Hetherington’s reaction. Probably she planned to keep him sweet with a tissue of lies and the prospect of hours of incredible sex after her return.

  ‘I’d need tomorrow morning off to pack, if that’s okay with you.’

  He nodded. ‘No problem, that’s settled then. Make sure you pack summery clothes. Rome is very hot at this time of year.’ Enzo was just about to turn and leave, when his eyes fell on a framed picture of Nick Hetherington on a sideboard. Within seconds the green-eyed monster hit again.

  ‘So he’s the one paying for this penthouse, or you wouldn’t feel obliged to prop up his picture as if he was one of your nearest and dearest.’ He swung back to her. ‘So tell me, Izzy, how long did it take you to get him eating out of your hand? How often did you need to spread your legs for him and whisper sweet little lies into his ear?’

  Her eyes narrowed, turning almost green in anger. ‘Bastard,’ she hissed. ‘Don’t you dare speak to me like this, as if I were a whore.’

  Within mere seconds he had closed the distance between them and grasped her chin, forcing her to look at him, his other hand pressing into her hip.

  ‘And what are you then if not a whore?’ he whispered, his mouth only a breath away from her trembling lips. ‘A temptress…an angel…a sex goddess? Tell me what you are, Izzy, I long to know.’

  She tried to push him away, but the moment her fingers touched the broad expanse of his chest just where his heart was beating heavily against his rib cage he pressed his firm lips on hers and felt her giving up all resistance. Soft like a flower her mouth opened under the onslaught of his lips. His tongue caressed the welcoming inside of her mouth, cherishing her sweet reply while his mind grew wings in the complete bliss of that kiss. Enzo forgot everything around him, everything that was ever important, the kiss consuming his mind. The lemony scent of her hair engulfed him, a smell he remembered so well. With a sigh he let his hands slide across her back over the soft fabric of her blouse and down to her jeans clad bottom, bringing her even closer to him. He heard her breathing accelerate as she felt his heavy erection against her stomach, her shaky fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. He wanted her. Dio. Had she any idea how much he wanted her, how much she had gotten under his skin? He had to get her out of his system. He just had to, otherwise…

  The thought brought him back to his senses. They were in Hetherington’s flat, and no way would he take her in another man’s bed. Breathing heavily he pushed Izzy away from him.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked with an anxious expression in her eyes. ‘Did I do something wrong?’

  Something wrong? An experienced woman like her certainly knew that there was absolutely nothing wrong with that kiss. Quite the contrary, it had been too good to be true. The kiss of a siren.

  ‘I guess I’ve proved my point,’ he snarled. ‘A few more minutes, and you’d have spread your legs for me as well. You’re nothing but a whore, Izzy. Just like I said.’

  She went as white as a sheet. ‘You swine, you miserable…’

  He laughed. ‘No need to start swearing, princess. I already know what you think of me, and I can assure you that I have exactly the same opinion of you. But that little truth aside, we are still stuck with each other for the next couple of weeks, so for business’ sake let’s get over our misgivings and start afresh.’ He held out his right hand to her. ‘Truce?’

  Izzy looked at his hand as if it was a snake. ‘You must be joking.’

  ‘No joke,’ he said, his eyes serious. ‘I’m even willing to forget this kiss and pretend it never happened.’

  She didn’t seem to understand. ‘Why would you want to do that?’

  He smiled. ‘My little brother seems to be quite…fond of you. So let’s say, I don’t want to spoil his feelings. You do like him too, don’t you?’

  ‘Like him?’ For a second she seemed confused as if she had completely forgotten that Luca even existed. Then she lifted her chin and looked right into his eyes. ‘Of course I like him…I love him, actually. Not that you’d know anything about being in love.’

  You have no idea how much I know about it. He ground his teeth. About heart-achingly miserable, all consuming, ill-fated love; the kind of hopeless love one hates with a vengeance and can’t shed, no matter how hard one tries.

  ‘True, I know nothing about being in love,’ he replied. ‘But I do love my brother, and just in case we end up being brother- and sister-in-law one day, we need to make this work.’

  He saw a myriad of emotions cross her face. Then, finally, she reached out to take his hand.

  ‘Okay then. Let’s call it a truce.’

  Her voice was trembling so much that he would have sworn she was close to tears, had he not known she was nothing but a mercenary bitch. It was nothing but an act.

  He was already standing in front of the lift, when Izzy called him back.

  He turned. ‘What is it?’

  She stood in the doorframe looking utterly innocent and as beautiful as in his dreams. ‘I just wanted to make sure you understand that no man has paid for this flat,’ she said. ‘I have inherited it, and Nick and I…as I said, he’s not my lover. It’s not one of those relationships.’

  Not one of those relationships. Enzo opened the car door and glided into the driver’s seat. She had almost made it sound as if this was one of those gay friendships. ‘Darling, please meet my best friend Nick. He’s gay.’ Only that Nick Hetherington was as heterosexual as they could possibly get. The number of beauties who had graced his arm was longer than the Queen’s birthday honour list. And who had bequeathed her this fabulous flat, if her poor-as-a-church-mouse artist father was the only living relative she had ever known? The Fairy Godmother?

  Did Izzy take him for a fool?

  A red Ferrari roared around the corner and slid into the parking slot in front of him. Enzo held his breath, when Nick Hetherington slammed the car door shut and strolled across the road to Izzy’s building. Just as the glass entrance door closed behind him, Enzo hit the accelerator and sped home through the night as if chased by the devil.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The following morning, Izzy was woken by the shrill sound of her alarm clock to the light-filled expanse of her bedroom. Still halfway asleep she dreamily glanced at the ceiling where the golden rays of the early morning sun danced across the wallpaper.

  After the draining encounter with her new boss, her brother Nick had turned up yesterday evening and given her an earful about kissing ex-fiancés in unlit corners, working for the competition under false pretences and, to top it all, now even spending time with Enzo in Italy.

  ‘I’m not going to spend time with him,’ Izzy had argued. ‘This is a business trip, nothing more.’

  ‘If you truly believe this, you’re kidding yourself.’ Nick gave her a stern look and laid his hands on her shoulders, giving her a little shake. ‘The guy paid half a million pounds to dance with you. Half a bloody million! And judging the way you two kissed out there on the terrace… Hell, Izzy, if I hadn’t turned up to interrupt… ’

  He was right, Izzy had to admit. That kiss had been unforgivable, hot and sweet and wonderful as it was. It should have never have happened.

  ‘Don’t worry, Nick. It’ll be fine.’

  ‘How can you possibly ask me not to worry, when I see you running into disaster with your eyes wide open?’ Her brother glared at her, a steep line between his brows. ‘Vallorini has hurt you enough as it is, I certainly won’t allow him to do so again. The way he treated you was appalling and only hours after your father’s death.’

  ‘Enzo
didn’t know that. I never got to tell him the news.’

  ‘Whatever.’ Impatiently Nick waved his hand through the air. ‘He should have guessed that something was wrong merely by looking at you. Hell, Izzy, the state you were in when Bella and I first met you that morning… You looked like a zombie, and that is even putting it mildly.’ Frustrated he raked his fingers through his blond locks as he always did when he was at his wits’ end. ‘I can understand you have unfinished business with the guy, I really do, but I still don’t think this trip to Italy with him sounds like a wise idea.’

  Izzy paled. Unfinished business. Was that the reason she had reacted so strongly when she had seen Enzo again at the charity ball or even before that, when she had merely felt his presence? Was that why, against all intentions, she had opened up and kissed him twice like her life depended on it when in truth she couldn’t forgive him for the way he had treated her?

  Sighing she glanced one last time at the dancing sun rays above her head and rolled out of bed. It was no use to ponder about last night’s events when there was so much to be organised before her trip to Rome. The unexpected morning off work had come as a godsend, because her PA at Hetherington’s had texted late last night that the final fitting for Ruby’s ball gown was scheduled for nine o’clock, and that the girl had especially asked for her to be present. Suffering from Scoliosis, the fifteen-year-old had to wear a rigid spinal bracing, and her greatest wish had been to attend a fairy tale ball wearing a beautiful silk gown - finally looking like a princess for once in her life.

  ‘My Greatest Wish’ had arranged it all. Ruby and her family would be attending a glittering ball in aid of the charity in the Vallorini flagship hotel in Rome, thanks to Enzo Vallorini, who had recently come forward with several gracious donations to the charity. Izzy, alias Clarissa, had designed a stunning evening gown for the teenager that fitted over her brace like a glove. She had even introduced some clever ruching that made the ugly device virtually invisible.

  Whistling a happy tune Izzy stepped into the shower. It would be pure bliss to see the girl’s delighted face when she finally glanced at herself in the mirror wearing that princess dress of her dreams.

  Several hours later an elderly chauffeur loaded Izzy’s suitcase into the boot of the black limousine that had arrived to bring her to the airport and held the back door open for her. When she slid onto the immaculate black leather upholstery she realised that she was not alone with the driver. Next to the opposite window and oozing male sophistication Enzo was already seated and gave her a short once-over while talking to someone on the phone. He was dressed in a crisp grey office suit, white shirt and a blue silk tie that complimented the stunning blue of his eyes.

  My God, he was beautiful.

  Izzy gave herself a mental shake. Once she could have drowned in these eyes, in the love and warmth shining from them, but these days all that shone from them in her direction was wrath and contempt. Even when Enzo had kissed her, there had been anger and unwanted desire glinting in his eyes, not love or even the tiniest bit of kindness. Not a good basis for a successful close collaboration like the one they were facing during the next couple of weeks.

  At least she felt sufficiently confident wearing one of Bella’s elegant office outfits and not merely comfortable jeans combined with a top, her usual outfit while travelling. She would have hated to be confronted with a nasty comment the moment she stepped into the car and didn’t pass his inspection.

  ‘Good to hear you’re enjoying greener pastures,’ she heard Enzo say. ‘Have fun and keep me posted.’ He ended the call and slid his phone back into his pocket.

  ‘Luca?’ she guessed.

  He nodded without giving any further explanations and stretched his legs.

  What greener pastures, she wondered. Had they been talking about the delights of Las Vegas, or had Luca already found a new lover - possibly a Barbie-style brunette wearing cherry-red lipstick and huge sunglasses?

  Izzy doubted it was the latter. Bella would have sent her a text, if it were all hearts and flowers on the Las Vegas love front. So either the brothers had spoken about the gambling capital or the hotel, or Luca had fallen for the charms of someone else. Slightly worried she bit her lower lip. What if Luca didn’t like brunettes?

  She slightly relaxed when Rebecca Morton crossed her mind, the willowy brunette who’d been Luca’s first wife. So Bella’s new choice of hair colour wouldn’t be a stumbling block between her sister and the love of her life. Still, this left plenty of other presumptions and misunderstandings between these two. Bella had a lot of explaining ahead of her, if Luca was even willing to hear her out. Heaven alone knew how she’d get him to say the L-word before finally telling him the truth.

  ‘Worried that my little brother has already forgotten you?’ Enzo looked at her lips, a satirical smile dancing around the corners of his mouth. ‘Or is biting your lower lip a new little habit of yours?’

  She threw him a cool glance. ‘It isn’t and, quite frankly, I’m surprised you bother asking. You’d put no trust in my answer anyway, would you?’

  ‘True,’ he answered. ‘Once bitten, twice shy is the saying, especially if it concerns the same woman. Do you really believe I’d trust anything you say, a mercenary little schemer like you?’

  Keep calm. Izzy grid her teeth to suppress the reply she’d loved to have given him.

  ‘You offered me a truce yesterday, and I must ask you to keep your promise,’ she answered instead. ‘I cannot work for you, if you keep throwing insults at me every five seconds. This is a business trip, so please don’t even think of turning it into an act of revenge for past misconceptions.’

  To her surprise she noticed colour rising into his cheeks. Was he blushing?

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He briefly closed his eyes as if he couldn’t bear her accusatory glance before facing her again. ‘You’re right. It’s not going to work, if I allow myself to get carried away like this. So forgive me, it won’t happen again.’

  The unexpected apology startled her. Judging by his strained features this couldn’t have been easy for him. He’d probably rather apologise to the devil himself, but Enzo would do anything for his younger brother, she guessed, including being polite to a woman who might one day be his sister-in-law. She sighed. His change of attitude didn’t mean that he wouldn’t try his uttermost to get rid of her before Luca even had the chance to propose. Fortunately Enzo didn’t suspect that his brother was in love with her twin and didn’t even know Izzy.

  ‘So we’re having a truce again?’

  He nodded. ‘It’s a truce. For real now, I promise.’

  With a weak smile she turned towards the window and looked outside. It wouldn’t last; she felt it with every fibre of her body. He might not say anything nasty to her again, if he even managed to stick to that, but he’d certainly think it.

  Mercenary little schemer.

  Whore.

  Gold-digging slut.

  He might not allow his verbal insults to come out into the open again, but nonetheless they’d creep into his mind every time he set eyes on her.

  Get over it and keep away from him, she told herself and clenched her hands into fists while pressing her forehead against the window pane. There was no way she’d fall under his spell and kiss him again while his opinion of her was as downright rotten as it was. Why on earth had she got lost in his kiss yesterday night although moments before he’d called her a whore - and only to be treated with the same terrible insult afterwards? And why, oh why, did she still crave his touch after all he’d said and done? How could she possibly keep her distance?

  She felt a shiver run down her spine. If he wanted to kiss her now, right this instance, she would kiss him back, again and again like an addict. What kind of masochistic attraction was that, she asked herself, what kind of magnetic pull that forced her to walk into his embrace as if her life depended on it?

  Bleakly Izzy noticed they’d left the motorway and slowly approached Heathrow airpor
t. A feeling of foreboding settled over her, the urge to run. As soon as she boarded that plane with him, it would be too late. But what else could she do? She’d promised her sister to play this act, and now she was bound by her promise and her wretched desire to be near Enzo. A desire, she reluctantly admitted, that was fed by her impossible dream. The glimmer of hope that one day he might trust her and listen to her and even come to love her again.

  How could she possibly still love a man, who hated her with a vengeance? Granted, he was beautiful, but there were many good looking men in the world. Why him? They hadn’t even slept together. What had he done to her to spoil her for any other man? She hadn’t even looked at someone else since that fateful morning two years ago. How sad was that? And now he called her a whore, and she fell around his neck and kissed him as if there was no tomorrow…

  She sighed. Her only chance to get out of this mess was to keep some kind of polite distance and play the prim PA slash designer, while they stayed in Rome. If things went well, Bella and Luca would get together in the next couple of days, maybe even get engaged, and she could finally give up pretending to be her sister and catch the next plane home. If things went extremely well, she’d even manage to tell Enzo the truth, and he’d believe her, but this was probably wishful thinking after he’d just confirmed that he couldn’t be expected to trust a lying schemer like her.

  And right he was, as a matter of fact. She was lying. Everything about her current role in his life was just that, a role. Nothing but an act, because she was not her sister, not his PA and not the love interest of his brother. Even Isabella, the name she was using, was not her own. If Enzo ever found out about any of this, she was done. She’d never earn his trust back...

  The least she could do was relentlessly stick to the truth where everything else was concerned. He deserved that, if nothing else, in the midst of all this Shakespearian shamble.