by Penny Jordan
‘Ti amo?’ she dared to ease out.
He tensed—all of him tensed, then he gave a curt nod of his head. ‘From the first time our eyes met in London,’ he admitted. ‘It came as a severe shock to me. I thought it was because you reminded me so much of nonna, but the feeling did not go away and I wanted it to. My life was already mapped out. I was betrothed to Bianca—’
‘And sleeping with Bianca,’ Lizzy put in huskily.
‘What do you want me to say?’ he demanded heavily. ‘I’m a thirty-four-year-old man and I did not embrace celibacy while getting to this age.’
‘I didn’t think you did,’ Lizzy said stiffly. ‘I just didn’t—’
She stopped, taking a bite out of her bottom lip because she knew what she had been about to say sounded stupid and immature and totally unfair—but she just hadn’t thought about Bianca with him in that way. She didn’t even know why it should matter to her so much yet it did.
‘With Bianca it was just—’
‘Don’t,’ she choked, not needing to hear him compare the two of them as if they were—
‘No,’ he sighed, hunching his shoulders and turning away from her, his stance weary and bleak.
Then—‘No,’ he said again and spun back to face her again. His chin jutted and his expression turned fierce. ‘I am going to say it,’ he insisted, ‘because I think it needs to be said. Bianca and I were engaged to be married so of course we were intimate. This is the twenty-first century, cara, an age in which most women expect their relationships to be intimate! But the intimacy stopped when I met you,’ he admitted. ‘A fact which probably contributed greatly to Bianca taking other lovers.’
He saw Lizzy’s shocked expression and smiled cynically. ‘Our decision to marry had nothing to do with love, cara. Bianca was telling the truth when she called it forming a dynasty. She had the right name and she was beautiful.’
He paused, the words catching in his throat. ‘But I made a big mistake,’ he continued then. ‘In my arrogance, when I didn’t bother to look for the right woman because I believed I did not need to with Bianca there in the wings of my life, I did her no favours, or myself, by accepting what fate had handed to me on a plate. Then I met you and I was way too attracted to you to be fair to anyone. The way you just had to keep looking at me fascinated me. I watched for you doing it and arrogantly took it as my due without bothering to analyse why I liked to feel your eyes on me.’
His eyes blazed a golden trail across her pale, still face.
‘Your hair fascinates me,’ he murmured softly. ‘I love its colour and the way it does its own thing and you don’t care. I love your long, womanly shape and your soft, womanly curves and I miss you when you are not curled against me in our bed. I miss being able to fall asleep with my hand filled by the warm softness of your breast, or waking up with your mouth a brush away from my mouth and your hand claiming possession of me. You want to hear more?’ he flicked out tautly.
Like a mouse mesmerised by the big jungle cat, Lizzy nodded.
‘Okay,’ he said and took in a deep breath. ‘I hate the way I took your innocence. It plagues me constantly that I was so tough on you. I never want to see a look on your face like the one you wore when Bianca told you she was pregnant by me. And I despise that cheap excuse for a dress you are wearing because I can’t see your beautiful figure through it and I want to see it. I want to lust after you even if you never let me touch you again. And I adore—’ his voice softened and grew silky ‘—the way you’re standing there lapping all of this up because you believe you deserve it when you know retribution is going to come at you for being such a greedy—’ he took a step forward ‘—selfish, unforgiving woman with sex on her mind.’
‘We don’t have sex. We make love,’ Lizzy corrected.
‘Ah.’ At last the strain relaxed from his face. ‘So you admit you get the difference.’
Reaching up, he took hold of a fistful of her hair and tugged. Her head went back, exposing the length of her creamy throat to him and locking her eyes with his.
‘Green,’ he said. ‘You’re dying to rip my clothes off.’
‘I want your baby,’ she whispered.
And his golden eyes turned black, the studding power of the lion in him surging to the fore on a hot adrenalin rush as he dealt wih the rear zip to her dress.
The cheap black fabric fell away whilst her fingers were busy with the buttons on his shirt. He lost the jacket. Warm dark skin as taut as leather and clouded by dark virile hair brushed the backs of her fingers as she worked. She felt muscles flinch and flex as she worked.
And he didn’t break contact with her eyes as she did it. He did not claim her waiting mouth. He just built on the pulsing sexual tension because—that was how they liked it, singing along wires pulled taut through the rushing heat of their blood.
His shirt was cast aside, her dress along with it. She un-clipped her bra and discarded that too—and still they made no physical contact other than his fist in her hair and her hands now dealing with the clip and zip of his trousers.
But her lips had started to tremble and his eyes had gone from black to flames of burning gold. ‘Take the shoes off yourself,’ she tremored.
As he obediently heeled the first shoe off, one of her hands slid around his neck and the other slid inside his loosened trousers. Stretching up on tiptoe, Lizzy placed her lips against his ear.
‘Ti amo,’ she whispered and felt his response run like Martha’s rum through his body. It raced along the place her hand was holding, and raged like fire across his face.
‘Ti amo,’ she whispered again across the burning temptation of his lips.
Then her hands squeezed—both of them, the one holding the velvet-smooth power of erection captive and the one clasped around his neck so she could bring his mouth into full, hungry contact with her own hungry mouth.
‘I hope you appreciate you are going to pay for that,’ he muttered tensely when she pressed her teeth into his warm bottom lip.
‘Just something else I owe you,’ Lizzy sighed mock tragically. ‘Five and a half million kisses, a few De Santis cubs and one sexy bite of your lip.’
‘You will never pay me back in this lifetime,’ he declared confidently as he picked her up in his arms and walked through to the bedroom and tumbled her down on some really decadent-looking four-poster bed that knocked spots off the one in the Caribbean because of its heavy drapes in a dark red fabric and the matching cover that made her skin look so pearly white and clashed so alarmingly with her corkscrew hair.
But Luc loved what he was seeing—Lizzy saw it blazing like golden fire in his eyes.
‘I give you leave to try,’ he invited as he stripped the rest of his clothes off, then dealt with what else she had left on with the cool economy of a man who knew how much he was exciting the woman he was about to throw himself down on top of.
‘Do I get to start soon?’ she quizzed innocently.
‘Sì.’ He made the long snaking stretch with his body until he completely covered her. ‘I will keep an account.’
Italian Boss, Ruthless Revenge
By Carol Marinelli
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
EPILOGUE
PROLOGUE
‘RANALDI’S here!’
A shiver of anticipation went around the lavish hotel reception—starting with a nod from the doorman to warn the concierge, who in turn signalled to the receptionists—and Caitlyn noticed everyone’s backs seemed to straighten just a touch more, hands all moving to flatten ties or hair, as a sleek limousine pulled up outside.
‘The quest
ion is—’ Glynn, the manager, blinked nervously as he flicked his fringe back off his face ‘—which one?’
The answer was, for Caitlyn, more relevant than Glen could possibly realise.
Here on work experience, shadowing the staff and completely supernumerary, it shouldn’t have mattered a jot to Caitlyn which one of the dashing Ranaldi twins was pulling up outside—after all, both were legends.
Lazzaro and Luca Ranaldi both headed up the sumptuous Ranaldi chain of luxurious international hotels—and, along with their sister, were heirs to the vast wealth their father had created and subsequently, following his death last year, left behind.
Impressive? Yes.
Newsworthy? No.
Unless, of course, that vast wealth happened to have landed in the laps of stunning identical twins. Not one but two immaculate prototypes, who regularly hit the headlines courtesy of their jet-setting, depraved existence. Since their father’s death, and their sister marrying and settling there, the stunning pair had loosely based themselves in Melbourne—two irrepressible playboys, who made no apologies and certainly offered no excuses! Only last week Luca had been in the papers for a fight at the casino, and there had been a few drink-driving scandals recently that Caitlyn could recall.
A dark-suited man stepped out of the limousine, and Caitlyn found herself holding her breath…
‘Which one is it?’ Caitlyn whispered.
‘I’m not sure yet…’ Glynn mused. ‘They’re both identical, both divine…’
Caitlyn hoped it was Lazzaro.
Not because he was considered the most powerful, the true leader of the two, but for a reason Glynn would have trouble believing.
Watching as two strappy sandals hit the ground beneath the car door, Caitlyn chewed on her lip, wondering what on earth she’d do if Roxanne came into view—wondering how the other hotel staff would react to her if they knew the strange truth…
Luca Ranaldi was dating her cousin.
‘It’s Lazzaro,’ Glynn confirmed as, without waiting for his date, the dark-suited male walked through the gold revolving doors.
‘How do you know?’ Caitlyn frowned. ‘I thought you said they were identical…’
‘Lazzaro doesn’t wait for anyone…’ Glynn hissed out of the side of his mouth before stepping forward to greet his boss. ‘Not even a beautiful woman!’
Oh, she’d seen him before—had seen him in the papers, his photo being on the cover of a business magazine she was reading for her course—but nothing, nothing had prepared Caitlyn for the impact of seeing him up close and in the flesh. Well over six feet, as he walked in it was clear to all that he owned the place—and not just literally. Confidence and arrogance just oozed from him, and as he walked over to the desk Caitlyn realised he wasn’t just stunning—he was absolutely beautiful. His jet hair was longer than it was in the photos, with a raven fringe flopping over his forehead, and as for those eyes…Caitlyn actually gave a little sigh. Thickly lashed, they were black as the night and just as dangerous. As his gaze met hers, it was bored, utterly uninterested and he soon looked away. But, for Caitlyn, it was as if his image had been branded on her brain, freeze-framed so she could examine it at her leisure—see again that straight Roman nose, see close up his smooth olive skin and that sulky, full, incredibly kissable mouth.
Realising she was staring—gaping, even—Caitlyn tore her gaze away and looked at the woman who had walked in behind him. She was now sitting on one of the plush lobby sofas as she awaited her master—and Caitlyn couldn’t help the tiny ironic smile that pursed her lips.
Though it wasn’t Roxanne, it might just as well have been.
The raven beauty who accompanied Lazzaro certainly hadn’t been striving to achieve au naturelle when she’d applied her make-up. Dark glossy hair tumbled, albeit strategically, over shoulders that were so evenly tanned it could only have come from some serious hours on a sunbed combined with a regular spray tan.
‘Welcome, sir.’ Glynn’s outstretched hand went ignored.
‘How are things?’ Lazzaro didn’t return the greeting, his eyes narrowing as they scanned the reception area. ‘Any problems?’
‘None at all,’ his manager assured him.
‘Has Luca been in?’
‘Not as yet,’ Glynn said, discreetly omitting to mention the drunken call he’d taken earlier, demanding that the best room in the hotel be somehow vacated and prepared for his arrival.
‘How’s the wedding?’
‘Excellent,’ Glynn enthused. But as Lazzaro’s burning gaze fell on him, he coloured up just a touch. ‘Well, there’s one teeny problem, but we’re taking care of it now.’
Lazzaro raised one perfectly arched black brow, and, though he didn’t say a word, the tiny gesture clearly indicated that he wanted more information.
‘The bride’s father, Mr Danton—’
‘Gus Danton is a close personal friend of mine,’ Lazzaro interrupted, and though his English was excellent, his deep, heavily accented voice held just a tinge of warning.
Caitlyn’s eyebrows shot up just a fraction—after all, if he was such a good friend, how come Lazzaro hadn’t been at the wedding? She didn’t say it, of course, but Lazzaro was either a skilled mind-reader or had felt the breeze from her eyebrows raising, because, as if answering her very thoughts he deigned to give her a brief look.
‘There are not enough Saturday nights in a year to attend every wedding to which I am invited but—given Mr Danton has chosen my hotel, and given Mr Danton is a friend—naturally I will come in for a drink. Of course, I hoped to hear there have been no problems…’
‘Quite.’ Glynn swallowed.
‘So?’
‘Well, he’s asked that the bar remain open for another hour. Of course we’re more than happy to oblige—it’s just that his credit card has been declined. I was actually on my way to have a discreet word with him now.’
‘Bring up his details.’ He snapped his fingers in Caitlyn’s vague direction, and even though she’d been bringing up guests’ details for most of the night, this almost mastered skill had never been tested under such stressful conditions.
‘Er, Caitlyn’s only here on work experience, sir,’ Glynn said, rushing over to the computer. One black look from Lazzaro halted him. ‘She’s studying hospitality, and—’
‘Since when has a work experience student stayed till midnight on a Saturday?’ Lazzaro cut in, staring at her name badge, lowering his eyes to her suede stilettos, and then lazily working them upwards—taking in the rather cheap navy skirt and white blouse that comprised her uniform. In absolutely no hurry, as Glynn chatted nervously on, he scrutinised her face, staring into her blue eyes and doing the strangest things to her stomach.
‘Caitlyn was very keen to witness a busy Saturday night…’
God, she wished she’d had warning—wished she’d had time to dash to the loo and redo her heavy blonde hair. She could feel her attempt at a French roll uncoiling before his eyes. And she wished the mouth he was staring at had just a little bit of lipstick on.
‘And she has been dealing with guests?’
‘Yes,’ Glynn croaked. ‘Well, she’s been closely supervised, of course.’
‘She has been bringing up details for paying guests?’
‘Er, yes…’ Glynn nodded. ‘But, as I said, only with supervision.’ Which wasn’t strictly true—Glynn had been out for more smoke breaks than Caitlyn could count. Still, she was hardly going to tell Lazzaro that.
‘If she is good enough for my guests,’ Lazzaro responded, with the martyrdom only the truly pompous could muster, ‘then she is good enough for me.’
If he called her she again, Caitlyn decided, then she’d jolly well give him a piece of her mind.
As his black eyes fell on her, Caitlyn recanted.
Well, maybe she wouldn’t actually say anything. Still, she could think it—divine he might be to look at, but he was a loathsome, arrogant, chauvinist brute. Blushing with a mixture of annoyance and
embarrassment, she furiously backspaced as she spectacularly mistyped. After an exceedingly long moment, Gus Danton’s details finally flashed on to the screen.
Momentarily!
‘His account,’ Lazzaro snapped, clearly expecting that with a few rapid clicks Caitlyn should bring up the necessary page. But his impatience only unsettled her more.
The cursor wobbled on screen as suddenly he was behind her, standing over her, his hand hovering to take the computer mouse—effectively dismissing her efforts. She should have stepped back—only he was behind her. She should have moved her hand to let him take over—only his was above hers.
Perhaps it was the prospect of physical contact with him, perhaps it was nerves, or an impossible combination of both, but at that second precisely her hope for a glowing reference from the Ranaldi Hotel for her work experience melted away as rapidly as Caitlyn clicked the mouse—not once, not twice, but as if her finger had suddenly developed a nervous twitch. She repeatedly tapped away—panic rising as she deleted Lazzaro Ranaldi’s number-one guest’s entire financial history before his very eyes. He should step in, Caitlyn thought, frantically hitting the back arrow, sweat trickling between her breasts as his hand still hovered. His breath was on the back of her burning neck as an unfamiliar system command popped on screen, to taunt her.
Put Susan to Bed.
What?
Oh—she should have pressed cancel. As soon as she tapped okay, Caitlyn recalled the meaning of the strange prompt—that she really didn’t want the computer system to shut down on the day, that she really, really didn’t want to do the one single thing Glynn had told her she must never, ever do. But as the screen went black, Caitlyn knew that Susan wasn’t just in bed, she was snoring her head off and completely unrousable as somewhere in the system she tallied and recorded the day’s figures and guests’ comings and goings.