Innocent of His Claim. Janette Kenny

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      The man she’d thought never to see again stepped into the office and shut the door behind him with a deafening click. Her traitorous eyes drank him in: tall and commanding, broad shoulders racked tight. Breathtakingly handsome.

      Piercing dark eyes set in a classic face drilled into her, impaling her to the spot. “Ciao, Delanie.”

      Her fingernails dug into her father’s chair, likely scoring the leather. But it remained her only shield against the enemy.

      Enemy … In her wildest imaginings, she had never guessed that the mystery owner of Varsi Dynamic was Marco Vincienta, her ex-fiancé. The man who’d held her heart in his powerful hands and crushed it without remorse.

      There could only be one reason for him to take over Tate Unlimited and demand that she meet him here a scant hour after her father’s funeral. Revenge.

      She swallowed, her throat parched, the spacious room shrinking as the powerful throb of his aura reached out to encircle her. Trap her.

      “Marco,” she said, her voice catching over his name that she’d once said lovingly, the emotionally wounded man that she’d foolishly thought she could heal with her love.

      He looked larger, stronger, colder. His lean torso was in top physical form, more so than memory served. His wealth of dark hair that she’d loved running her fingers through was clipped short in a fashionable style, yet an errant curl strayed onto his broad tanned forehead to hint at his rebel soul.

      He was far more handsome and intense than she remembered. Far more dangerous-looking. Hungry. Like a caged wolf she’d seen at the zoo, its cool gaze scanning the crowd, searching for easy prey.

      Only Marco stared straight at her. The look of a predator who’d tracked down his quarry. Who had it cornered and was moments away from pouncing.

      Perspiration beaded her forehead and dampened the deep V between her breasts. It took supreme effort to stand straight and keep her head high, refusing to show fear or any weakness.

      “So you are the man behind Varsi Dynamics,” she said.

      A rapacious smile curved his chiseled lips that had once played so tenderly over her eager flesh, awakening sensations she’d never felt before or since he’d exited her life. Sensations that maddeningly still caused heat to curl in her belly.

      She hated that odd loss of self-control, that awareness of him on that level. Hated him as much as she’d once loved him. Perhaps more now that she knew he’d been the one to put her through such hell the past few weeks.

      “It is one of my lesser acquisitions.”

      “Lesser?” She couldn’t hide her surprise.

      The wolf’s smile widened. “Hard to believe that the young bastard you and your father stole a company from amassed a fortune and the power to take down a titan.”

      “I had nothing to do with what my father did,” she said, earning a snort from him. “Everything I felt for you was real.”

      “Yes, just like your tearful confession of family abuse, revealed after I confronted you and your father with the truth, after I said I was done with you.” His dark eyes were void of emotion. “It was too little too late. Perhaps if you’d told me your story before you betrayed me …”

      “I never betrayed you,” she spat. “Why are you so blind to the truth? Why must you think the worst …”

      He sliced the air between them with a hand and she stammered to a halt. “History. What happened then has nothing to do with why I’m here now.”

      She forced her chin up and met his cold gaze head-on. “That’s rather difficult to believe after you’ve systematically stripped me of everything.”

      The tailored sleeves of his jacket pulled into perfect pleats as he crossed his arms over his chest, his face an impassive mask. He was a stranger, worlds away from the young Italian she’d lost her heart to. An older, harder version of the dynamic lover who’d broken her heart.

      “I’m in need of your services,” he said sharply.

      She blinked, stunned speechless. As a wedding planner? Lover? Did it matter when either was cruel to ask of her?

      “Is this a joke?”

      “Not at all,” he said. “I want you to come to Italy with me today.”

      For a moment she couldn’t think, couldn’t get past those same words he’d spoken long ago. Come to Italy with me … Leave the hell of her life. Leave her mother at her father’s mercy …

      She couldn’t do it then. She wouldn’t now.

      “No way,” she said. “The only reason I honored your order to be here today was to hear your counteroffer to my bid for Elite Affair.”

      One dark brow winged up. “This is my counteroffer. Come to Italy and plan a wedding. If you please the bride and me then Elite Affair will be yours.”

      Could it be that simple? No, there would be nothing simple about being around Marco, seeing him fawn over his bride.

      It would be emotional hell for her. Torture. But, she thought, her mind catching on the carrot he dangled before her, in the end she would gain Elite Affair—if she could trust him to uphold his end of the bargain.

      Her eyes met his intense ones and her foolish heart fluttered. It was a dangerous game. But right now she had absolutely nothing to lose and everything to gain.

      “All right. But I can plan your wedding from London and send one of my consultants to ensure the events go off perfectly.”

      He shook his head. “No. You will be there from start to finish or the deal is off.”

      She shoved her father’s massive chair aside and rounded the desk, facing him. “Why? What does it matter as long as your bride is happy?”

      He drove his fingers through his hair, then pinned her with a look so intense she had to lean against the desk to keep from swaying. “Because the bride insists that you be there to oversee every detail.”

      “And you would do anything for your bride,” she said.

      “Si. I want her day to be perfect.”

      Exactly what every groom should want, except this man had once asked her to marry him. The man who had vowed to stand by her. Believe her. Protect her.

      Marco had failed miserably at all three. What was to stop him from stringing her along to get his way?

      “Not good enough,” she said. “I demand a guarantee in writing that I’ll get my company back when the work is done.”

      “No. You get the company if your work is satisfactory to the bride.”

      “And if she nitpicks?”

      “You have a reputation for pleasing the most finicky client.”

      “Within reason,” she clarified.

      He СКАЧАТЬ