by Annie West
AT THE ITALIAN'S BIDDING
Annie West
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to events, businesses, companies, institutions or locations is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright © 2017 by Annie West
Cover Design by The Killion Group
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means whatsoever, including information storage and or retrieval systems, without the express written permission from the author, Annie West, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.
Licence notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away. If you would like to share this book with someone else, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
About Annie
Excerpt From ‘Back in the Italian’s Bed’
Prologue
* * *
Come and spend the weekend with me, Lia. I need you.
Lia reread the message in disbelief.
Niccolo Marchesi wanted her to spend the weekend with him?
Her heartbeat kicked from normal to frantic, revving just like the engine of Niccolo’s latest race car.
She darted a look around the elegant hotel lobby, still empty of guests needing her assistance, then stared at her phone.
Niccolo never messaged her. Oh, they talked. Whenever he visited her family home for some celebration or when she caught up with her brother Matteo in Rome, Niccolo was often there. Niccolo and Matteo were still close after all these years, and Niccolo treated her as a little sister to be teased and indulged.
But he never went out of his way to seek her company.
Who could blame him? He knew full well about that teenage crush she’d had on him years ago.
The memory of his kindness then, his understanding, sent heat washing through her. No woman, not even a half-grown one, wanted pity instead of passion. And at seventeen it had been passion she’d desperately yearned for.
Thank goodness, at twenty-two, she was over him. She was busy with her own career, her own life. And if she took extra care to look good whenever she knew she was going to meet him? Well, who wouldn’t? Niccolo Marchesi wasn’t just a celebrated, phenomenally successful international race driver. He was handsome and sexy, always with at least one pretty girl in tow. Pretty? Make that gorgeous.
Lia frowned at her phone. Had he meant to send this message to Matteo? But no, he mentioned her by name.
How did he have her number, anyway?
The answer was easy. Any of her older brothers would have provided it. They treated him as one of their own.
Matteo had brought him into their home years ago. Niccolo had worked a season at the prestigious, historic hotel in the Italian Alps owned by his ultra-wealthy family. He’d been sent to learn the value of hard work. Lia’s brother Matteo had worked there part time and the teenagers had hit it off instantly. After that Niccolo had spent all his spare time in the De Laurentis home.
Being addicted to speed and thrills like all Lia’s brothers, Niccolo had returned every winter, since their mountain provided challenging slopes and perfect powder snow.
I need you.
Lia could imagine him saying it, an earnest look in his extraordinary dark eyes. His voice rich and deep and just a little husky as he reached out to her.
She blinked and thrust the fantasy aside.
As if! One thing she’d learnt about Niccolo – he might be a nice guy beneath those movie-star looks, he might even take it upon himself to be kind to a skinny, smitten kid, but he was not attracted to her.
In the years since she’d grown into a woman, he’d not once looked at her with anything approaching male interest.
To him she was the little sister he’d never had. So if he needed her it wasn’t because he’d suddenly discovered he’d been pining for her all this time.
Lia settled back in her leather chair behind the reception desk and again surveyed the hotel foyer. Through the window sunlight shone on the cobblestones and tourists clustered to take photos of picturesque Bergamo, the quaint hill town with its small but ultra-luxurious boutique hotel owned by her brother Luca. She was even a part owner of the enterprise along with the other staff, due to Luca’s innovative profit-sharing scheme.
Right now there were no guests needing attention. Nothing urgent to do. She turned back to her phone.
How could Niccolo possibly need her? At twenty-nine he was at the peak of his career, with so many wins under his belt the press were lauding him as a once-in-a-century sportsman. In addition to the millions he’d made from racing and sponsorship, he came from a well-heeled family. As for his love-life — he had the pick of women. It was well documented by the press and her brothers ribbed him about it all the time.
Need me for what?
She sent the message before she could have second thoughts.
Resolutely she put the phone aside and busied herself, double-checking bookings that had already been checked, and making a list of extra services that might be required. The American couple had spoken of a tour to Verona and—
A message pinged into her phone.
Need your help. Please?
Lia’s heart fluttered. Niccolo needed her help?
The idea tugged at her conscience. Hadn’t he come to her rescue when she needed him?
At seventeen, she’d been so fixated on him she’d almost convinced herself he reciprocated her feelings. When cornered by the other girls, taunting her about not having a date for the all-important local dance, she’d defiantly announced that Niccolo Marchesi, the newest, hottest star on the international racing circuit, would be her date.
It was a moment of insanity she regretted as soon as she’d spoken but then it was too late. The news spread like wildfire. Right to her brothers. And from there to Niccolo.
She remembered his solemn tone when he’d called to ask if it was true, and she’d stumbled, stricken, over her reply. The damning silence while he took it in. And the elation when, unbelievably, he’d promised to escort her, though it meant squeezing the visit into his already packed schedule.
She’d danced on air that night, radiant with happiness. Until he’d taken her home, gently kissed her on the forehead and made it clear that, while he cared for her like a sister, he had a girlfriend waiting for him elsewhere.
The fact was, she owed Niccolo. He’d stood by her and never reproached her for her foolishness. He’d saved her pride when it would have been far easier to let her face the consequences of her wishful lie.
More than that, he’d helped her family in so many ways it was impossible to count. Through knowing him, Luca, her eldest brother, had got valuable contacts who’d helped him as he developed his own chain of resorts. Because of that, Lia herself had a promising career in hotel management.
Another message arrived. This one promising an explanation on Friday afternoon, if she was willing to spend the weekend at his family’s villa at Lake Como.
Lia chewed her lip.
Lake Como with Nicc
olo or spring cleaning her little flat?
Besides, there was that debt of honour. Niccolo needed her.
Lia ignored the flush of heat that thought evoked and told herself she was doing a favour for a friend. Whatever trouble Niccolo was in, she’d help him. Then she’d walk away, pleased to have helped and lighter for having cleared that ancient debt.
Chapter One
* * *
‘Your girlfriend?’ Lia’s voice rose half an octave and those remarkable eyes widened. Light brown, flecked with gold, they’d always drawn attention, even when she was a skinny kid with braces and a nervous habit of twisting her hair in her hand.
That shy, skinny girl was long gone.
He almost wished she wasn’t. It had been far easier to deal with that Lia, his best friend’s cute younger sister, than the dazzling woman she’d become.
‘Temporarily.’
She planted her hands on her hips. ‘How temporarily?’
‘Just for the weekend.’ He paused, wondering if, after all, this was a mistake.
But who else could he turn to? There was no other woman he trusted like Lia. Besides, she was perfect for the role. ‘I promise to bring you back on Sunday night in plenty of time for work on Monday.’
He watched her pace across her neat lounge room, her movements all unconscious, sinuous grace, her slim body far, far too enticing. Desire punched straight to his gut.
Damn. That was a complication he didn’t need.
Too often now he was aware of her as a desirable woman.
Shame sliced through him. Since she got over that painful bout of puppy love years ago, she’d made it clear she viewed him the same way she did her brothers. She was the only woman, apart from his grandmother, with whom he could totally relax. He could be himself, not the sporting hero or a walking advertisement for his team.
He valued that. Didn’t want to lose it.
‘Listen, if you’re too uncomfortable—’
‘It’s okay.’ She swung around, her long straight hair flaring around her shoulders like ebony silk.
Niccolo’s fingers tingled. That hair of hers had taunted him far too long. Last time they’d met in Rome he’d laughed automatically at Matteo’s jokes, all the time wondering whether Lia’s hair would be as soft to the touch as he imagined. They’d crammed around a table in a cheap, cheerful trattoria that sold the best food, and Niccolo had basked in the sense of belonging the De Laurentis siblings always gave him.
Poor little rich boy! As if you haven’t grown up with every advantage.
But her family had adopted him as one of their own, trusted him, and he couldn’t betray that.
‘So.’ The word caught his wandering thoughts and yanked him back to the conversation. ‘Are you going to tell me why you need a girlfriend for the weekend?’
He shrugged. ‘My grandmother is celebrating her seventieth birthday and we’re invited for the weekend.’
‘You, not we.’ She wasn’t cutting him any slack. So much for the little girl who’d once looked at him with stars in her eyes.
‘Me and a friend.’ He drew in a deep breath and crossed the room to stand at the window near her. From here the late sun highlighted her flawless complexion and the fascinating curves and hollows of her features.
Briskly, Niccolo looked away, out to the narrow street and a pair of guys strutting their stuff in jeans and leather jackets.
‘You know my parents died when I was young and that I have no siblings.’
From the corner of his vision he saw her nod.
‘My grandmother brought me up and she’s always felt I…’ Damn, but it was hard to share such personal stuff. ‘That my life would have been better with a family.’
His gaze cut to Lia’s and he saw the sympathetic warmth in her golden gaze.
He didn’t need sympathy. He was perfectly fine as he was. Yet a tiny part of him revelled in the knowledge Lia cared.
How bizarre was that? It wasn’t as if he’d had a terrible childhood. On the contrary, he’d had opportunities denied to most people. He might have been orphaned young, but his memories of his parents were hazy at best, and otherwise life had been generous.
‘She conveniently ignores the fact I’ve got a host of cousins plus the whole De Laurentis family who’ve more or less adopted me.’
Lia nodded, but still she looked sombre. Strange how important it felt to wipe that serious look off her face and make her smile again.
‘She’s an imperious old lady but I love her. She doesn’t nag but I know it disappoints her that I haven’t found the right woman.’
As if there was any rush! He enjoyed being young and vigorous and pursued by gorgeous women. Okay, not all the time. Not when pursuit became stalking, or when he could barely hear himself think for the press of adoring fans.
‘So you want us to lie to her?’ Lia’s mouth turned down in a sulky pout that sent heat unravelling through his veins. Since when had Lia’s mouth looked quite so seductive? He scowled and saw her stiffen.
‘Not exactly lie.’ Not technically. ‘The truth is I’d forgotten she’d asked me to bring someone special to her birthday celebration. It was only when we spoke earlier this week that she reminded me. Frankly I didn’t have the heart to disappoint her. Besides,’ he added with a winning smile, ‘you are special.’
Lia tilted her head in that solemn, questioning way of hers. So too had she looked at him years ago across the scrubbed kitchen table of the De Laurentis home when he’d occasionally let slip some detail of his life away from the mountains. A world where the Marchesi name was synonymous with wealth, privilege and success.
‘Surely you know plenty of women who’d be eager to fill the role.’ Her tone wasn’t exactly disapproving but there was a definite chill.
Slowly Niccolo nodded. Yes, he knew plenty of women. Beautiful women who’d be pleased to spend a weekend at the gracious old villa renowned even now for the parties his grandmother had hosted there in her heyday.
And excited to play your long-term girlfriend.
He flattened his mouth, remembering the recent paternity claim against him, made by a woman he’d never even met. It was hard to tell these days which women were interested in him, as opposed to his money or his public profile. There were some attracted, he knew, by the dangers of his profession, as if sleeping with a guy who regularly risked his neck on the track added extra spice. Or maybe they fancied themselves in the role of grieving widow with a stack of cash to sweeten the pain.
He shoved a hand through his hair. Since when had he become such a cynic?
‘Niccolo? What’s wrong? You look—’
He met Lia’s serious gaze and smiled, watching the frown clear from her brow. But she didn’t smile back. Maybe he was losing his touch!
‘That’s the thing. When my grandmother reminded me of my promise to bring someone I realised there was no-one I could take with me.’ He put up his hand when Lia opened her mouth as if to argue. ‘No-one who wouldn’t get the wrong message if I invited them to meet my family, even if I explained the situation.’
Not that he could imagine sharing so much private stuff with any woman other than Lia.
He really was lucky to have her to fall back on, he realised. And how rare to know a beautiful, single woman who wasn’t scheming to get herself into his bed or her hand into his bank account!
‘You’re afraid they’d read too much into the invitation?’
Niccolo nodded, watching as Lia processed that. It was like waiting for a judge to pronounce sentence. She’d always been serious, her quiet nature a counterpoint to her brothers’ volatility. But her smiles when they came, were worth waiting for. Even as a withdrawn teenager she’d lit up from within when happy.
He remembered her at seventeen, on the cusp of womanhood, yet so blatantly innocent and sweet it had pained him to think of her growing up and being hurt by some boy. He’d been protective as hell over her, ridiculously honoured that he’d been her first, innocent crush. Even wh
en his manager had berated him for taking precious days off to fly back to Italy for her dance.
He saw her dubious stare and laughed. ‘You think I’m caught up in my own reputation? Maybe. But there’s no other woman I know purely as a friend, that I’d trust not to read too much into the invitation.’ He didn’t explain that most of the women he met saw only what they thought they could gouge from him. Or tell her about the sordid paternity case his lawyers were dealing with. Or the many and varied ways women, total strangers, had inveigled their way into his hotel room and other places they knew he’d be.
He spread his hands. ‘You’ll have to trust me on this, Lia. Nonna will be disappointed if I turn up alone. It won’t completely wreck her party but I’d rather make her happy.’ Especially as, just lately, he’d been forced to notice that his grandmother, despite her iron will, was showing surprising signs of frailty. ‘It’s just for a weekend. There’ll be no talk of anything long term and I’ll introduce you simply as a friend. No lies, but hopefully, a pleasant weekend for us all.’
Lia looked doubtful. ‘And later, when she asks about us?’
‘I’ll tell her the truth. That we see each other from time to time but we weren’t meant to be together.’
Was that relief or something else in Lia’s bright gaze?
‘And what will you tell Matteo and the others?’
Niccolo hadn’t even thought of that. But Matteo was wrapped up in his own life at the moment, so patently happy to be reunited with his wife, Angela, that he barely seemed to take in anything else.
Hopefully it wouldn’t ever come up. Because even knowing this was a sham solely to please his grandmother, Niccolo felt a furtive little ripple of masculine pleasure at the prospect of having Lia by his side all weekend. Lia looking cool and delectable and all too sexy.
‘If it comes up I’ll tell them the truth. I have nothing to hide.’