Delucca's Marriage Contract. Эбби Грин

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      She assured herself she could do this. Gianni Delucca, and his disturbing brand of masculinity and fathomless dark eyes that had watched her far too carefully, was not going to deter her from her path.

      * * *

      That evening Gianni looked at his watch impatiently. Keelin was late, over half an hour late to be precise. For someone who was a stickler for punctuality, this grated on his still-jangling nerves. He’d never waited for a woman in his life. And he really did not relish overhearing the bar staff discussing rumours about a merger between the Harrington and the Chatsfield hotels. The last thing he wanted was a blaze of publicity to accompany this wedding. He was about to take out his mobile when he heard a hush descend on the exclusive Harrington Hotel bar and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled just before he looked up.

      Keelin stood silhouetted in the doorway. Every head turned towards her. Gianni’s eyes felt like they might explode out of his skull with a mixture of horror and unwelcome desire. He’d thought her dress earlier was short, but what she wore now would have made it look like a nun’s habit. Her legs were completely bare, all the way up to where her modesty was just about preserved by the multicoloured lamé material of her dress. If it could even be called that.

      A dress that skimmed out over womanly hips, dipping in to her small waist before curving sinuously over perfect breasts, tantalisingly visible in the open V that showed her flesh from neck to navel. The whole apparatus seemed to be precariously held in place by a gold hoop necklace that showed off her bare shoulders and arms.

      That glorious red hair was bigger than it had been earlier, tousled and falling down behind her shoulders. Gianni was stunned. In shock. She looked like a call girl, but he felt the sharp kick of a lust so powerful it shocked him. Even as he was vowing that she would never, ever, appear in public with him again dressed like this.

      And then that green, heavily made-up gaze settled on him and she raised an arm and called across the muted dimly lit bar, ‘There you are!’

      Gianni winced and hated himself for it, as those long legs ate up the luxuriously carpeted distance and every head swivelled to follow her leonine progress. Dio. He’d seen more clothes on a Las Vegas showgirl. Even if she did move with an innately sensual grace that made his lust kick even more, confounding him. Was he really so rough underneath the respectable sheen he’d acquired that he appreciated this?

      She reached him and stopped, her feet strapped into insanely delicate and ornate-looking gold high-heeled sandals. She obviously misread his interest and lifted one foot and said chummily as if he really cared, ‘Just off the catwalk.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Like, this is ridiculous. I could happily live and shop here for ever.’

      Then she looked at him and clapped a hand to her mouth, eyes widening comically before she said, ‘I can’t believe I just said that! That’s exactly what I’ll be doing when we get married!’

      Gianni was conscious of people looking and whispering and felt the prickle of that public scrutiny. And the need to get away from it. Which is what Keelin O’Connor should be helping him with, along with the kudos of joining forces with O’Connor Foods.

      Angry that she was putting doubts in his mind again, Gianni took her elbow and said tightly, ‘We should go, they’re waiting for us in the restaurant.’

      He gritted his jaw as a wave of that noxious perfume assaulted his nostrils again. Keelin was resisting ever so slightly and he looked at her. She made a small pout. ‘Not even time for a weensy glass of prosecco?’

      She gushed, ‘I love prosecco, it’s my new favourite drink. I had it in the spa this afternoon while I was getting my nails done.’

      She shoved her hand under his nose then and waggled her fingers, showing off blood-red talons with a diamanté sparkle in the center of each one. His stomach lurched.

      ‘You like?’

      Gianni swallowed a sense of doom and took advantage of her momentary distraction to keep moving. ‘They’re fantastic.’

      As they walked out of the bar and across the marbled lobby, Gianni noticed a few men almost get whiplash, their heads jerked so hard when they saw Keelin. To his disgust, he felt a very uncharacteristic urge to go and snarl at every one of those men to keep their gazes on their own women.

      Keelin was chattering away, blissfully unaware, ‘...and I’m sorry I was late but I saw the most divine ruby necklace that would set off the peach resort dress I bought today, and then they had this thing on the Discovery channel about dogs—’ She gripped his arm just as the maître d’ of the restaurant caught his eye and ushered him in.

      Gianni stopped and looked at her impatiently. ‘Yes?’

      She was gazing up at him, wide green eyes hopeful. ‘Can we have a dog, please? I’ve always wanted a dog and Daddy never let me have one because he said I wasn’t responsible enough.’

      Her lower lip trembled. Cristo, was she about to cry? Gianni felt a clawing sense of claustrophobia, desperation. He dragged in a breath and reassured himself she was just excited and overwhelmed. It had been a mistake to give her the credit card; clearly she couldn’t be trusted with unlimited funds. They’d talk over dinner and she wouldn’t be as silly as he feared she was. She couldn’t be.

      ‘We’ll discuss it, okay?’

      Her green eyes shone with hope and gratitude, bright with unshed tears. ‘Thank you, Gianni, so much. I know we’re going to be really happy together. Daddy promised you’d take care of me, just like he has.’

      Gianni didn’t have time to let that last little bombshell land because the maître d’ was leading them to the table. Daddy promised you’d take care of me? She was looking at him like a father figure? When he was looking at her and feeling a powerful mix of desire and disgust? Now he was freaked out on top of everything else.

      An hour later, Gianni was also very much in doubt that any kind of happiness lay on the horizon. Irritation perhaps. Now that definitely featured. But he schooled his features and affected nothing but extreme interest in his fiancée, who he suspected could make an Olympic sport out of chattering inanely without drawing breath.

      When she did pause to draw breath for one moment, Gianni took advantage and put up a hand to stop her next monologue about the way she felt reality-TV shows were so true to life.

      ‘Keelin, we need to talk about this marriage.’

       CHAPTER TWO

      KEELIN WAS ACTUALLY relieved that Gianni had cut her off. She’d been ready to scream and had just been wondering what the hell she could witter on about next. But now she registered what he’d just said and suddenly air was in short supply. She forced a bright vacuous smile. ‘Okay.’

      He looked at her and she felt acutely self-conscious in the ridiculous outfit she was wearing. Her skin felt tight, sensitive. She was aware of her bare breasts brushing against the material of her dress or the material that called itself a dress. Her nipples were as hard as bullets and Keelin’s frustration mounted.

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