Italian Prince, Wedlocked Wife. Jennie Lucas

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      He gave her a brief bow, elegant and fluid and ironic. The sharp cut of his coat, his blue eyes against tanned skin, reminded her of Mediterranean sun and olive groves. He was a romantic fantasy, every dream she’d ever had of exotic lands. And then he spoke.

      “I am Prince Maximo d’Aquilla.”

      She stared at him for a shocked moment, thinking she’d heard him wrong, that she was having a flashback to all the historical novels she’d read as a teenager. “You’re a prince?”

      “Does my title impress you?” He punched numbers on his cell phone, the expression on his face hard as granite as he snapped it shut. “Va bene. Perhaps now you’ll cease your pointless resistance and accept your fate.”

      Prince Maximo d’Aquilla. An exotic name. But he was more than a dream. He was a flesh-and-blood man, a Roman gladiator hard of sinew and bone, with a powerful, dangerous edge.

      And he was too good to be true.

      She shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

      “I grow weary of this.” His eyes traced over her. “I do not have time. We both know you’re coming with me. Either do it gracefully, or—” he came closer “—I will simply take you.”

      She could see at once that it was not an idle threat. He could take her—in any way he wished. And on this dark, empty, snowy night, with no cameras or weapons or customers, who would stop him?

      She sucked in her breath, gathering her anger like a defensive force. She would stop him.

      How dare he try to intimidate her this way! Did he think he could boss her around with his gorgeous face, his wealth, his power, his alleged royalty?

      “Do you think I’m stupid?” she demanded.

      “I’m starting to wonder.”

      “Your story is ridiculous! You’re a prince, and you want me to run away with you to Italy and be rich and happy? What’s your scam? I get on your plane, then what—end up sold into a harem in some desert?”

      “You think any sheikh would tolerate such insolence?” he said icily.

      “I just know that when a handsome man makes an offer that’s too good to be true, it means he’s lying.”

      His laser-blue eyes narrowed.

      “First you insult my honor. Now you call me a liar?”

      His voice held a quiet, dangerous edge. She trembled with fear, even as she rebelliously clenched her hands.

      “If you think I’m idiotic enough to believe some fantasy about becoming wealthy and getting revenge on Alex, you’re not just a liar, you’re a fool.”

      He looked down at her, and she felt scorching heat to her toes. His glance made her feel hot all over, dizzy, pummeled by a whirlwind. “If you were a man, I would make you regret those insults.”

      She raised her chin defiantly. “And since I’m a woman?”

      His fingers gently traced a tendril of dark hair that had escaped her ponytail. “Your punishment will be entirely different.”

      There was a sudden ring at the door. It took a moment for Lucy to even realize what that meant, lost as she was in the sensation tingling up her hair, her scalp, down her spine to her toes. How was it possible that with just a single touch, he could make her whole body shake…?

      A hulking man, shorter than Maximo but twice as wide, came to him with a deferential bow. “Mio principe.”

      “Ermanno.” The two men spoke in Italian, one giving calm commands, the other acquiescing with a nod.

      For a moment, she stared at Maximo. A gorgeous, wealthy, arrogant prince. Demanding that she go with him to Italy. Her, Lucy Abbott. A nobody.

      No! she told herself fiercely. She wasn’t a nobody. She was Chloe’s mother. And she couldn’t succumb to this so-called prince’s evil scheme, whatever it might be. She wouldn’t obey. And the fact that his slightest caress made her ache to surrender only proved how dangerous he truly was.

      Now. While he was distracted—this was her chance to escape. Before he dragged her away to hell under the guise of sweet promises, and she never saw her daughter again.

      Quietly she edged back toward the door.

      The two men continued to talk.

      Lucy took a deep breath. Then turned and ran.

      “Ferma!” the dark prince roared. “Stop, Lucia!”

      Outside, the blast of cold air hit her, swirling snow and making her long dark ponytail twist in the wind. Pushing up her glasses, she sprinted for her old Honda. Parked behind the gas station, it was covered by ice and snow. Her hand shook as she stuck the key in the door.

      But the lock was frozen!

      Panicking, she glanced over her shoulder.

      Prince Maximo was striding toward her like a bull, his dark eyes cold and furious. Desperate, she turned it harder.

      The key broke off in her hand.

      She had no car. No escape.

      With a gasp, she turned and stumbled through the snow, crossing the street toward the deserted city park. On the other side of the vast, empty darkness she could see lights and the twinkle of traffic. But she’d barely reached the edge of the park before he caught up with her.

      He knocked her into the soft powder, his large, muscled body pressing her into the snow. Grabbing her wrists, he turned her over beneath him. She struggled, but he used his weight against her.

      She looked up at his face, so close to hers. With his body so hard and warm against her own, she could barely feel the cold snow beneath her.

      “Basta! I told you to stop!” He tightened his hands, shackling her wrists. “You must learn to obey.”

      The trees were dark over his head, their snowy branches waving like claws against the gray sky. Scattered moonlight sifted through the clouds, leaving his dark hair in a halo of light.

      “I’ll never obey you,” she cried. “Never!”

      “We’ll see.” His glance touched her lips, and she suddenly knew he was going to kiss her. In the dark winter wonderland of the park, they were utterly alone. Surrounded by snow and cold, she felt fire in her veins at his touch, and she was helpless to move, helpless to fight.

      But she had to fight. Without a mother to protect her, her baby would be vulnerable and alone, tossed into foster care as Lucy herself once had been. She couldn’t give in.

      She would fight to protect Chloe to her last breath…

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