The Italian Billionaire’s Scandalous Marriage: An Italian Billionaire Romance (Italian Billionaire Christmas Brides Book 2)

by Mollie Mathews

  Not many women could claim to marry a gold tycoon, certainly not one who they barely knew. She chuckled at the absurdity of it all and pinched herself. No, she wasn’t dreaming. She really was getting married! Even if their wedding was a bad mistake, Alex couldn’t imagine ever getting married again. She suspected that all other men would pale into insignificance when compared to the virile splendor of Vitali Rossi.

  She reached for the bridal magazine she’d found in the hotel lobby and thumbed through the pages. Her mother had asked for a photograph, and while she could not be there to see her daughter get married one thing Alex could do to was not throw rock salt into her wounds by dressing defiantly. Where once she would have relished following through on her threats of getting married in crimson, Alex could not take pleasure in shocking her mother. Not now.

  But as she flicked through the pages filled with stark white gowns she began to get more and more disillusioned. Pleasing her mother was important but it was her big day, the day she never thought she’d have. Wasn’t it important that she was happy too?

  Then she saw the gold wedding gowns. Delight bubbled in her heart. Gold was perfect, she thought as she thumbed through the designs Not only could she depart from tradition and still be elegant and sophisticated but a sumptuous gold gown would complement her husband’s business interests. Vitali and her mother were sure to be pleased.

  Since she wasn’t getting married until later that evening and she wouldn’t be hearing from Vitali until early afternoon she had plenty of time to go in search of the perfect dress. It couldn’t be just any gold gown. It couldn’t be too dull, nor to bright and shiny, but something in between. Something uniquely special. Something befitting the occasion.

  She folded the page so she could find them again and called the hotel reception.

  ‘Could you please call a taxi,’ she said, giving them the Auckland inner city address of the bridal salon she had seen in the magazine. ‘And I’d like to make an appointment in your beauty salon. It’s my wedding day,’ she said, wanting to share her news with anyone who’d listen.

  ‘Whatever happens you will always have your gold dress, which unlike other gowns that needed to be tucked away and stored, your gold gown could be used again and again,’ the owner of the salon told her.

  But Alex was already sold. Throwing away all notions of practicality she stepped back and admired herself in the mirror. The soft golden feathers of the Marchesa dress clung to her body, making the most of her curvaceous figure. She was no longer the ugly duckling of her adolescence but a beautiful swan, she thought, happily. She did a twirl, delighting in the way the blossoms embroidered on the silken tulle skirt, flaring from just below her feather lined hips, splayed around her feet in a carpet of flowers.

  ‘I’ll take it!’ she bubbled merrily. She added a pair of gold sling backs sprinkled with glittering diamantes, and a pearly-gold handbag to match, and returned to the hotel exhilarated with her acquisitions.

  She spread her new purchases on the bed and took a series of photos so she could take pleasure in looking at her wedding outfit again, then placed a call to Room-Service and ordered a light lunch. She doubted the butterflies flitting around in her belly would stomach much more than the lightest of meals.

  She had barely put down the receiver when the phone rang again.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Vitali demanded. ‘I’ve been ringing all morning.’

  The agitation in his voice came as quite a shock. She’d thought the call would be from room service. Alex bit back her hurt and resisted the temptation to put him and his bad mood firmly in their place by reminding him that he was phoning her much earlier than they had arranged. But this was her wedding day and she wanted it to be a happy one, no matter how odd the circumstances.

  ‘I had the painting removed from the exhibition as you requested,’ she replied, matching his brusqueness.

  ‘Bene,’ he said, his voice softening. ‘I wanted to see if you needed any help… It’s important you look—’

  ‘Everything is under control.’ She said, coolly. She felt like telling him she knew how important looks were, that she’d been indoctrinated by an expert into believing that ‘looks are everything’, but decided against it. ‘You won’t be disappointed.’

  His tone gathered a sardonic edge. ‘I expected nothing less.‘There is one other matter.’

  Something in his tone told her to expect the worse. Alex braced herself.

  ‘My mother.’

  She slumped on the bed and shut her eyes, pressing the phone to her chest. Please God, make his mother like me. She lifted the receiver back to her ear.

  ‘My mother is demanding to meet you.’ Vitali continued.

  ‘Naturally,’ she said more brightly than she felt. Any woman capable of rearing such a head strong, dominant alpha male would be fiercely intimidating to say the least.

  ‘She flew in from London with her husband this morning. I must warn you, Alexandra, she is a woman with high expectations. I trust the outfit is suitable.’

  Alex smiled. So, that was why he was so impatient to track her down. At least he was only worried about her outfit being a disappointment. There was hope for their marriage yet.

  ‘My mother is a demanding woman too, Vitali. I won’t let you down.’

  ‘I’m flying our head jeweler in from our atelier in Milano. I’m sure the importance of having the appropriate jewelry for a bride of gold hasn’t escaped your attention,’ he drawled cynically. ‘He has begun designing a bespoke piece already. I’ll bring him to your hotel room at three. That will allow time for any minor adjustments before the marriage at six.’

  ‘As you wish,’ she replied coolly. Jewels meant nothing to her, but clearly Vitali thought that gold was the whole point of the marriage, and if that was how he wanted to think today was not the moment to be arguing.

  ‘Still the consummate Ice Queen,’ he said derisively. ‘Have you any idea how infuriatingly provocative…? No, don’t bother replying. I’m sure you know exactly what you’re doing.’

  Alex grinned to herself as she wound up the call and abruptly disconnected. Vitali had dropped his stoic mask, revealing that he found her façade of detached control provocative. Maybe she got under his skin in the same way he got under hers.

  If that was the case…well, she might be a bride of gold who wasn’t easily impressed, but she would be a wife that Vitali Rossi wouldn’t shrug off easily.

  She picked up her iPhone and clicked the Spotify icon, then scrolled through the Love Lost playlist she’d created. She selected Diana Krall’s Let’s Fall in Love and put her iPhone into the dock by the bed. She picked up her dress and, pressing it to her chest, waltzed around the room.

  Call her a romantic, call her overly optimistic but she would never be called a failure. Not without putting up a good fight. She would give this marriage her best shot. What if the painting had been destined to bring them together? What if they were meant for each other, she mused as she heard Room Service knock at the door and went to answer it.

  She picked over the meal which the waiter had brought to her room, her inner excitement dulling her appetite. As she placed the tray outside her door, the voice of rational doubt sanctioned that her feelings of exhilarating anticipation were totally unwarranted.

  Padding over to the iPhone she pushed her nagging thoughts aside, turned up the volume, took a sip of champagne and took great pleasure in getting ready for her wedding.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Alex was showered, her nails painted a pretty shade of champagne pink, her neck lightly perfumed with Jo Malone’s Wild Roses, and dressed in her feather and tulle gold gown by eight minutes to three. All that needed to be done was to put on her princess crown with three-quarter veil, but she had decided that could wait until after the jeweler’s visit.

  She had coiled the thick mass of her blonde hair into a neat chignon just above the nape of her neck. Whatever jewellery Vitali had chosen could be shown off to best affect
. She glanced at the time. Five minutes to three. It felt like an eternity since she had purchased her dress, returned to the hotel spa for a relaxing aromatherapy massage, and had subtle make-up applied to her eyes by a beautician.

  Alex didn’t normally worry about such vanities but, mindful of the photograph her mother wanted and the high expectations of the mother-in-law she had yet to meet, she wanted to look as good as she could look without over-doing it and loosing herself in a layer of cosmetic mayhem. She reapplied her pale rose lipstick and stared at the door willing that her husband-to-be would arrive early.

  Her heart gave an exultant leap as right on 3’oclock a powerful knock rattled the door. It took a major effort to keep the beaming smile from her lips as Vitali's eyes ran the length of her body and gleamed with proud satisfaction.

  He was immaculately dressed in a graphite grey suit which had an appropriate air of formality about it, particularly with the silver-grey satin tie poised on a crisp white linen shirt. She dragged her eyes from her husband-to-be and observed the man who accompanied him. Next to Vitali any man would look small but this man, his thin frame sheathed in a dark three-piece ‘power’ suit, was unusually short.

  He stood with his arms crossed, surveying her speculatively through enormous round rimmed glassed which dominated his tiny round face. His slicked-back hair was completely grey, but his blue Paul Newman eyes were sharp with youthful curiosity as they appraised Alex.

  ‘Ricardo Allegri, jeweler,’ he introduced himself with an outstretched hand. ‘A pleasure to meet you,’ he said with a twinkling smile.

  ‘May we come in?’ Vitali asked shifting impatiently on his feet.

  ‘Yes of course,’ Alex said, her heart racing as he brushed past her. Her heart danced an exultant jig as she caught a sultry whiff of the violets adorning his lapel.

  Ricardo Allegri headed straight for the ebony desk under the large mirror in her room. He set down the slim Louis-Vuitton hard-sided case he was carrying and began to open a series of brass locks. He glanced up and winked at Alex.

  Vitali paused beside Alex, his green eyes alight with mocking appreciation. ‘You’ve won Ricardo over,’ he said in a low voice. ‘But then you’re very good at winning, aren’t you?’

  ‘I know what it’s like to be a loser. I can’t say I enjoyed the experience,’ she tossed back, then walked across the room to where the jeweler had opened the case.

  ‘Do you know your ring size, Miss Spencer?’

  ‘No, Mr Allegri. I can’t say I do.’ she said, careful to ensure her voice remained a nonchalant crawl. It was all terribly exciting.

  ‘May I?’ he asked, gesturing to her left hand.

  He placed an assortment of plain gold bands on her third finger until he was satisfied with the fitting.

  He glanced up at her ears, noting the tiny holes in her earlobes. ‘Bene. Ears are pierced,’ he said turning to Vitali, ‘Perfecto.’ He reached into the case and withdrew a box and handed it to him. ‘The earrings,’ he murmured.

  The jeweler lifted out another box from his case and opened it without ceremony. Alex’s incredulous gasp as he lifted an exquisitely intricate gold necklace from the satin lined box brought a delighted smile to the little man’s face. ‘The Rossi Circle,’ he told her proudly, as she studied the glittering array of indescribably beautiful jewels he spread before her

  The necklace was indeed designed as a circle, with 16 egg shaped balls of solid gold joined together from which three elegant golden droplets dangled from a splay of beaded diamonds.

  ‘Put it on,’ Vitali commanded.

  Excitement intermeshed with fear. A gift so majestic, so potent would surely come with demands, expectations, conditions she could not possibly meet. Her breath clung to her lungs as she met Vitali's gaze with a steady, stony stare.

  Bewilderment and outrage imprisoned her. Ever since she’d been little people had made her a subject for their pleasure, their adornment. Starting with her mother who, when Alex was three had entered her in the first of many beauty pageants. Ironically she was thankful when puberty ruptured her face making her too hideous to look at.

  Dry mouthed, her face rouged with shame as though she been ordered to strip naked, she arched her neck as Vitali picked up the exquisite necklace. With confident hands she placed the necklace around her quivering chest.

  His fingers slightly brushed her neck as he reached for the clasp. She suppressed a nervous gasp, steadying herself as her body trembled. The warmth of his breath on her lobes as he leant closer toward her, pretending to wrestle with the clasp, sent butterflies to her stomach—butterflies that danced recklessly, having far too much pleasure for Alex’s comfort.

  A slight blush heated her cheeks as Vitali studied her with unswerving intensity. Alex was physically conscious of herself more than she had ever been in her life. Conscious of the silky feathers of her wedding dress caressing her thighs. Conscious of the gold necklace nestled above her quivering breasts. Conscious of the dryness of her throat as she swallowed a melody of stirring emotions.

  And she knew her green eyes were no longer clear ponds of still water. They were hot and bothered with the awakening of explosive passions.Vitali on the other hand, she reflected painfully as he stood before her, looked consummately in control.

  Alex tried to regather her composure and turned her attention back to the necklace. There wasn’t anything in the Spencer family vaults that could remotely match the Rossi Circle. She doubted that there was anything to match the beauty and expense of it anywhere in the world—except possibly among the English crown jewels.

  It made her nervous to think about wearing it, let alone owning it! She told her mother that Vitali was fabulously wealthy, but clearly she had underestimated his worth. The necklace had to be worth tens of millions! But what she didn’t know was the value Vitali put on the expectations that came with such a gift.

  ‘Satisfied?’ He gritted.

  ‘It’s very lovely,’ Alex said stiffly, not giving away an inch of just how lovely she really thought it was. His mouth curled. ‘It’s more than lovely, it’s unique, Alexi. Rarer than toucan’s teeth. A gift that should leave your family in no doubt I intend to repay my debts. And the ring and the earrings have been designed to match. There won’t be a woman in the world who doesn’t look at you with envy.’

  He lifted a hand and lightly caressed the hollow of her throat with one tantalizing finger. Alex hoped he wouldn’t feel the leap in her pulse-rate.

  ‘At least you have the rare kind of beauty that will show them off.’ His finger ran slowly to her chin, tilting it slightly. His gaze dropped to her mouth.

  Alex held her breath, anticipating his kiss, but then his mouth thinned grimly and his eyes flicked up again, burning into her with fierce determination. ‘Priceless jewelry suits you. But then you knew that, didn’t you?’

  A frightening sexual heat whipped her body into tumultuous whirlpools of passion—battling with fury and pride. Vitali Rossi might wield a powerful sexuality that had the ability to drive her emotions, but he would not crack through the layers protecting her heart.

  He would have to earn her trust as she would have to earn his.

  Undoing the clasp and returning the necklace to the velvet pad, she said briskly, ‘I never asked for these, Vitali. And I’m not an object of art to add to your collection. Like Lost Love, I’m not for sale.’

  ‘Your unwillingness to take my gifts is almost convincing.’ He said, darkly.

  ‘I told you before Vitali, I’m not trying to convince you of anything. Why won’t you believe me?’

  He repacked the necklace in the jeweler’s case which Ricardo Allegri promptly relocked. ‘I assume it won’t take long to finish the ring?’ he asked Ricardo as he ushered the little man out the door.

  ‘Not long at all,’ Ricardo Allegri informed him confidently.

  ‘It goes without saying you will have it doubly checked to ensure there are no imperfections,’ Vitali called after Ricardo as he di
sappeared down the hall.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  ‘I like it,’ he said.

  ‘You do?’ she said, surprised at his reaction. ‘Would you like to see it on?’

  ‘Why not?’ he drawled.

  She was positioning it on her head when the jeweler returned. Vitali answered the door but didn’t ask him in. Alex heard Vitali thank Ricardo.

  ‘Very elegant,’ he commented as he came back to her. She stood in front of him, the short veil sitting just above her shoulder.

  Unable to suppress her happiness she giggled inwardly. It was like playing dress-ups, only way more fun. Just for today she was a princess and standing in front of her was a terribly handsome, albeit richer, Gregory Peck.

  Their eyes met in the mirror and for one brief moment they stared at each other—strangers who were about to enter into the most intimate relationship between a man and a woman.

  ‘Now the engagement ring,’ Vitali murmured, his face tightening as though that moment had disturbed him in some way. He opened the smaller of the two boxes the jeweler had delivered, and lifted out the engagement ring.

  Alex’s skin prickled with sensitivity as he slid the ring on her finger. Alex was too entranced and blinded by the dazzling brilliance of the spectacular cushion-cut yellow diamond to lament the woeful absence of romance surrounding their peculiar engagement.

  Thirty minutes later Alex was checked out of the hotel and they were in the private lift which serviced Vitali's penthouse apartment. The nervous flutter in Alex’s stomach had nothing to do with the speedy rise to the top of the building. Vitali's tension was affecting her badly. When the lift stopped he didn’t immediately step through the opened doors. He leaned forward and pressed the close-door button, then seemed to gather himself before turning to her.